Warm, safe, and comfortable. That is all you have known your entire lifetime. Which, granted, has only been about five weeks, but still, its a lifetime in your mind. You can feel others around you, but they don’t bother you and you don’t bother them. Life is pretty good.
Suddenly, the liquid matrix around you begins to shift. You feel your kin begin to move, towards an area both unknown and uncharted. You begin to move with them, weakly struggling against the flow, your small hooves weakly flailing. A muffled scream of pain announces the departure of the first of your kin into the unknown. You struggle harder to avoid it, but are quickly tired out as the endless procession continues. Three screams later, it is your turn, as you slide out of the warmth into the cold air of the outside world.
You limply slide to the ground among a pool of amniotic fluid, the jolt of impact eliciting a weak “cheep” from you. The ground is much rougher than your previous haven of peaceful, warm floating. You hear a dull clunking approach before suddenly you are lifted by the scruff and carried away, weakly cheeping in protest at your treatment.
You are laid down as a warm voice speaks next to you. “Hewwo babbeh, mummah wub you.” Suddenly a warm, wet surface rubs against you. Its calming, and you feel safe again. “Mummah Izzabeww wub babbeh.” You feel yourself lifted again, this time much more gently, and cradled against a soft fluff. Its one of the best experiences you’ve ever had in your life. Which, granted, was only about three minutes at this point, but it was an experience you were sure you would always remember.
Suddenly you were put down, and while momentarily upset by the cessation of the hug, your weak cheeps stopped as you caught scent of some sort of ambrosia nearby. You begin to struggle towards it, every instinct in your body screaming for you to have it. You latch onto it, gulping down the sweet, creamy nectar. The warm voice spoke again. “Siwwy babbeh, dun wowwy, mummah have WOTS o’ miwkies!”
You drink your fill, falling back with a soft belch. “Siwwy babbeh.” You are lifted again, placed among your kin once again as a large, warm, fluffy mass curls around you and your siblings. The voice begins to sing, a glorious, melodious tone, at least as far as you can tell.
Mummah wuv babbehs,
Babbehs wuv mummah,
Dwink wots o’ miwkies,
Gwow up big an stwong!
Its been a few days since you were born. You have come to learn a few things. Firstly, you are a Babbeh, whatever that meant. Perhaps it was your name, perhaps a title. Secondly, the warm voice you heard was called both Mummah, and Spechuw fwiend. You also have learned quite possibly, your favorite word, Miwkies. They were that delicious fluid you just couldn’t get enough of. You also learned a couple other words like poopies and huggies, but Mummah, Babbeh, and Miwkies were definitely the top three right now.
Aside from your mummah and your siblings, there was a third person here, someone called Mummah also called Spechuw Fwiend but called themselves Daddeh, again, you were unsure of their true designation. Perhaps if you were able to see them you could learn more, but you neither have the concept of sight nor the faculties to do so currently, only a vague understanding of light and dark.
You feel your siblings rustle around you, before one of them begins to peep in distress. Instinctively you too, begin to peep, desperately trying to attract Mummah or Daddeh, to protect you from whatever was causing your kin’s distress. Suddenly, your kin lets out a long “SCREEEEEEEEE” and you feel a warm liquid splatter on your face. “Miwkies?” You think to yourself, sticking your tongue out to lick your nose. Instantly, a horrible, acrid taste clings to your tongue as you begin to chirp with renewed vigor.
“BIWDIE MUNSTA WEAVE BABBEHS AWONE!” You hear Mummah scream loudly, a loud rustling noise accompanied by a blast of wind announcing the exit of whatever intruder was at the nest. Mummah begins to cry as you and your kin wiggle and crawl towards it, the large, warm fluffy mass wrapping around you as Mummah continues to cry. The exertion of all this cheeping has worn you out, and you drift to sleep just as you hear the sounds of Daddehs return.
You feel movement, a gentle bobbing up and down. You wake abruptly, peeping as you seek comfort from Mummah. “Qwiet babbeh, dewe am munstahs awound!” Munstahs. You don’t know the word means, but it fills you with enough dread that you go silent. You can hear Daddeh speak from a bit away. “Dis am good nestie! Biwdie munstahs nu can get in dis nestie!” The dark time came faster than you expected, the vague light behind your eyelids suddenly extinguished.
You are picked up and placed on the ground, which is far rougher and less comfortable than it was before. “Mummah sweep wif babbehs, Daddeh gu find softie gwass fow beddies.” The creature known as Daddeh shuffled off. You felt the warm mass curl around you, and you snuggle deep into the fluff. You are about to fall asleep when you feel the pangs of hunger, chirping to gain the attention of Mummah. “Babbeh am hungwy? Dwink wots o’ miwkies babbeh.” You catch the scent of the miwkies, scrambling towards it and latching on. You drink deeply, stopping after you’ve had your fill with a soft burp. That’s better, you curl back into the fluff and fall asleep.
You wake up, your face itchy. You sleepily rub your eyes with your front limb, feeling a crusty gunk rubbed away your eyes blink open, and you see. You see around you three others like you, but varying in color. Theres a white you, a brown you, and a pink you. Then you see a giant, a huge behemoth, pink with a violet mane. Instinctively, you know this is mummah. You begin to chirp, and Mummah stirs. “Awe babbehs hungwie?” it mutters sleepily, hauling itself up to sit on its back haunches. You shakily rise to your feet, walking towards Mummah, chirping happily.
Mummah gasps with joy. “Babbeh am seeing AN wawky babbeh!” It coos, hugging you tightly to its chest. At this moment, your life is perfect. The moment ends as your kin begin to stir, their eyes beginning to open as well. A dull clunking sound approaches and you crane your head to look towards the opening of the nest. A deep, navy blue behemoth, even larger than Mummah, walks through, its mouth full of green things. Mummah turns to face it. “Spechul fwiend wook! Babbehs am wawky AN wookie babbehs!”
The blue behemoth lays the green things down and smiles happily. So this is a Spechul Fwiend, but it isnt Mummah, so it must be Daddeh! You peep happily, as Daddeh walks over and gives you a hug. “Babbehs am su cute. Bwuebeww wuv babbehs.” So it was Daddeh, Spechul fwiend, AND Bwuebeww? This name thing was harder than you thought. But the intricacies of names could wait until later. For now, it was huggies, miwkies, and sleep. A perfect existence.
The next few days are days of learning. Firstly, you learn that Mummah is a female, and Daddeh is a male. You too, are a male. The white you isnt actually you, its a female, along with the brown also not you. The pink you is also a male, but is again, not actually you. So confusing. According to Mummah, you are green, the color of the grass nummies that mummah and daddeh eat. You don’t know why they eat grass nummies when mummah already produces miwkies, but hey, more for you.
You’ve been trying to figure out how to express your gratitude to your mummah. Sure, you give as many huggies as you can, but there has to be a better way to express yourself. Perhaps you could communicate the same way Mummah and Daddeh communicate. There’s no harm in trying. You turn to face Mummah and Daddeh as they eat their grass. “Peep! PEEP!”
They turn confusedly to see you. “Babbeh? Wut am wong? Aweady dwink miwkies? Nee’ huggies?”
You try harder. “PEEP! CHIRP!” Daddeh walks over, lifting you with his hooves. “Nee’ huggies?” Yes, but that’s not what you are after right now. “WUB!” You’ve done it. Mummah and Daddeh are silent for a second before Mummah erupts in a squeal of joy. “BABBEH AM TAWKIE BABBEH!” You turn towards her, smiling. “PEEP! Wub mummah!” She squeals even louder as you turn to your beaming Daddeh. “Wub daddeh!” He hugs you tightly to his chest. “Dese am bestest babbehs evah!” The words bring your heart such joy. You are quickly lulled to sleep by his heart beat, the exertion of speaking having worn you out.
The following few days, your brudda and sissies, as mummah calls them, begin to speak too. Your parents couldn’t have been any happier. The days were long and full of milk. But, as you would learn, good things rarely last for fluffies.
You have begun to accompany your father on his excursions for food. Your teeth havent quite grown in yet, but your gums have begun to itch, so they are on their way. You gnaw on a stalk of grass to sooth the itching as your daddy carries you on his back. “Hafta be cawefuw, dewe awe many munstahs in da woods.”
You had been amazed when you first left the nestie. You had made bad peepees at the sight of all the giants, way bigger than Mummah and Daddeh combined, standing menacingly about. But according to Daddeh they were called “Twee-fwiends” and, in fact, you lived among the hoofs of one. They don’t walk, only gently sway about in the wind. You still keep a close eye on them. You never know.
As you walk, Daddeh tells you about the munstahs in the forest. There were lots of birdie munstahs, big, though not as big as daddeh, they had sharp feet and mouthie places. Most only ate the tiniest of chirpie babbehs, but there were big ones, with hooked mouthie places that would eat even a big fluffy! He said they only come out at night, which made you feel a little safer.
He talks about the lesser munstahs, the no weggies munstahs that eat babbehs whole, the many weggies munstahs that give wittwe huwties that become the wowstest huwties, even a black and white fluffy that made you smell not pwetty forever! You shudder at these stories as he begins to talk to you about the Big munstahs, neither of you noticing the rustling in the bushes nearby.
The red bawky munstah is the biggest threat, its faster than a fluffy and with sharp teeth and feet. Theres also the big meowie munstahs, they’re even meaner than regular meowie munstahs, but they also only really come out at night. Theres also the gray barky munstahs, but again, they only come out at night. You are glad for the safety the nestie provides, the dark times sound scary!
Suddenly, a creature about the size of your daddeh trundles out of the bushes in front of you. Its gray and black, with stripes of white running down its back with big, thick legs and heavy claws. It stares at the two of you impassively, a red, dripping chunk in its mouth. Could this be the gray bawky munstah? But your daddeh said they don’t come out during the day!
Your daddeh stands as still as a twee fwiend as the creature regards you both coldly, before slowly trundling off into the distance. You feel your daddeh weakly collapse beneath you. “Daddeh, what am dat? Gway bawky munstah?” Your Daddeh is silent as he slowly stands, taking a moment to calm down before the two of you continue your walk home. “Dat am nu bawky munstah. Dat am stwipey munstah. Fwuffies nee’ go. Now.”
You continue the walk home, a red trail seemingly leading you to it. Your Daddeh moves faster and faster, at the end you are almost struggling to stay on. As you reach the nestie, your daddeh lets out an anguished wail. Its a scene from a bad sweepie pictah. Your family is in pieces. Literally. Brown sissy is just a smear of red and brown fluff, long, raking claw marks in the ground as though she was wiped off a foot, white sissy has been bitten in two, her top half having drug herself towards her mummah. Pinky brudda was no where to be found.
Mummah. She was still alive, but barely. Her stomach had been slit open, her tummy skettis strewn across the entrance to the nestie. Her face was covered in long, deep scratches, booboo juice crusting her face. It was evident she had been crying, the streams of tears down her face being the only parts of her face fluff devoid of red stains. She wasnt crying anymore, but the expression on her face scared you even more. She was entirely calm.
Daddeh walked up to her. She regarded him with cold eyes. “Wan die.” The words sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had no idea what the words meant, but you could tell that a fluffy shouldn’t be saying them. Daddeh began to sob and huuhuu as he spoke to her. “Wut happen? Whewe pinky babbeh?”
“Wan die.”
He asked her many questions, receiving the same answer in response each time. Eventually, she stopped responding, staring ahead with an indescribable expression. Your Daddeh sobbed, picked you up and carried you towards a tree friend. “Gib twee fwiend huggies untiw Daddeh come back.” You didn’t understand, but complied. The tree friend wasn’t very good at huggies, but right now you needed any sort of comfort. There was a loud crack, then a wail of despair from your Daddeh.
He came back, his hoof a stark red against his blue fluff. “Come, Daddeh take ou’ to Big Hewd.” You didn’t know who or what Big Hewd was, but you were glad to be on his back again. You still had some questions though. “Mummah and bwuddas and sissy comin wif us?” Your Daddeh began to sob again. “Nu. Famiwy gu foweva sweepies.” Oh. Daddeh had told you about foreva sleepies. Its a sleep you don’t wake up from. “Bu’ babbeh wan mummah.” Your Daddeh shook his head, tears falling to the ground. “Nu see mummah evah ‘gain.” You too began to sob. You sobbed yourself to sleep in Daddehs fluff.
You wake up to the sounds of play. You look over to see more fluffies than you can count, foals, adults, mummahs and daddehs. You instinctively want to go and join them, but your Daddeh stops you, covering your mouth with his hoof. “Be qwiet babbeh, nee find Twiggy.” Eventually, your daddy sees a brown fluffy mummah singing to a group of chirpie babbehs. Quietly, he leads you over to the mare, whispering to her through the bushes.
“Twiggy. Twiggy!’’ The fluffy turns to face him, momentarily surprised but she quickly makes sure the babbehs are all sleeping before stealthily getting up and walking into the bushes. “Goin’ make gud poopies!” She announces to no fluffy in particular. She walked through the bushes, sitting in front of daddy. “Hewwo Bwuebeww!” She looks around. “Whew am Isabeww?”
Daddeh begins to tear up. Twiggy appears to quickly grasp the situation, trotting over to give him huggies. Daddeh tells her the story, before asking her a favor. “Nu can gib babbeh miwkies, nee mummah fow dat.” Twiggy shook her head. “Is hownie wingy babbeh, nu mawe wiww wet him hab miwkies.” What did she mean by that? All your kin had horns and wings just like you, and Mummah let you have miwkies and your sure she would have let dad have them too if he asked.
Your Daddeh nodded sadly. “Bwuebeww knu dat. Bwubeww hope he nu haf to do dis.” He lifted you up, gave you a hug, then placed you down, your horn laid against a rock. “Babbeh.” You look at your Daddeh as he looks down at you sadly. “Daddeh am sowwy. Daddy haf to gu.” You don’t understand what he means. “Daddeh wuvs you babbeh. Daddeh wiww awways wuvs you.”
With that he stomped down on your horn, snapping it cleanly off at the base as you scream in pain. Twiggy looks at him horrified as he grabs your horn and runs off into the brush, his tail disappearing as a grey and orange fluffy bursts through the bushes, looking around furitively. “Twiggy wut happen?”
“Meanine munstah fwuffy gib babbeh huwties! Nee’ miwkies an’ wub!” Twiggy answered after collecting herself. The orange and grey fluffy sniffs you suspiciously, before lifting you by your scruff. He carries you through the herd of fluffies, who had stopped playing after they heard your screams. They all look at you as you are carried through the clearing. You are still sobbing. Why did Daddeh do this to you? Didn’t he love you? You are laid down beside a maroon mare with a blue mane. “Meanie munstah fwuffy gib babbeh wowstest huwties. Gib babbeh miwkies untiw can num gwassie nummies.”
“Otay Doogie!” The mare nodded, lifting you up and hugging you, before laying you down at her teats next to a two toned brown and orange striped foals. “Dwink aww da miwkies ou’ wan.” The stress of the day had distracted you from the hunger pangs in your stomach, but now that you were infront of the source of milk, your hunger overwhelms you. You latch onto the teat and begin to drink. The taste reminds you of your Mummah. “Dewe, dewe, meanie munstah fwuffy is gone. Neba see dem ‘gain.” The thought of this causes you to begin to sob with renewed vigor. Soon you have cried yourself to sleep.