Thanks for reading the last two parts, enjoy this one!
If you haven’t read the last two and want to catch up, here’s part 1: Bestest's First Barbecue, Part 1 (FluffSaw)
Any ideas on what to do with Bestest are welcome!
“There we have it guys, our Foal Skewer is ready to taste!”
Jacques spoke to his handcam as he lifted the barbecue top. Anabelle’s foals had charred delightfully on the barbecue top, each sporting a caramelized sheen of crusted fat that glistened in the camera’s light fixture. Each foal was deliciously finished; he reached out with his tongs to prod at the tender bite of meat that was once named Green; with ease, the layer of caramelization gave way to the pressure, the crust cracking in some areas to reveal a juicy moisture running from the barbecued meat.
The aroma was simply exquisite; it was like a sweeter pork, and yet also like grilled chicken, but mixed in the most peculiar way. Biologists may have been concerned with the genetic make up of fluffies, but Jacques was concerned with how that make-up affected flavour. As it turns out, it made for an experience unlike any other.
Jacques had to admit, he was proud of his decision to use newborns for this dish; the natural fatty later they were born with made for a grilling experience he hadn’t seen with any other sort of fluffy before, and he’s tried quite a few. The only thing that really came close were Micro-Fluffy nuggets he made on impulse when he discovered an infestation in his air vents, but the extra work an average Microfluff puts into it’s movements and travel made the meat tough and bitter. He, paused, trying to remember what became of the MicroFluff Nuggets.
“Ah, right, I gave 'em to the pigeons at Old Mill Park.” He shrugged, and continued admiring his work.
These were as fresh as he could get, as tender and soft as humanly (fluffily?) possible, and he was ready to bite into it for his audience. Now there only remained the question of what to do with Anabelle and her “bestes’”. He glanced over to the other side of the backyard; along the well-kept fence line he spied the two yellow balls of fluff that played along it.
Anabelle happily played with Bestes’ as the two were engaged in a game of ‘hidie-seekies’. Bestest would clumsily crawl away, facing in a direction away from her mother, and Anabelle would pretend not to notice until she would inevitably cry out in as much fake-surprise as a fluffy could muster.
“Tee hee, Mummah fin’ babbeh! Bestes’ babbeh make bestes’ hidie-seekies!”
Then, she would pick the fat yellow foal up with a gentle grip in her hooves, and place her down once more, prompting a new round.
Jacques felt his heart warm at the sight; sure, Anabelle was an awful mother to her other foals, and becoming his lunch was about the most significant thing the foals could ever hope for, but at least she had some maternal instinct in her fat little body. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and he liked what it suggested.
He turned back to the camera, ready to continue his filming for the day.
“So guys, our Foal Skewer is looking great, but I’m not eating alone today,” he turned the handycam towards Anabelle, “I’m actually going to see what mummah thinks about her nummy-babies, comment down below if you think she’s gonna love it!”
After letting the foal skewer rest, Jacques corraled Anabelle and Bestes’ into the kitchen where he promised her ‘bestest nummies for bestest milkies’. Naturally, the mare was eager to feed and rushed inside with Bestes’ nestled into her back fluff. She had only been a house-fluffy for a few hours, but couldn’t believe her luck.
In only these short few hours, she had found a nice mistah to be her ‘nyu daddeh’, had some very pretty foals (whom she hasn’t seen in a while, but they were probably fine) and the bestest baby ever (whom she was totally focused on). She didn’t have her special friend anymore, but she knew he would love to be here with her and their foals for this. After all the starvation, hardships, lost friends, running from munstahs and meanie hoomins, she was finally safe, finally a house fluffy.
“Peep, peeeeeep peep,” Bestes’ hungry peeps snapped her out of her thought. There would be time to beam about her turn of circumstance after her favourite was fed, and to make the milk in the first place she needed food. Anabelle waddled up to Jacques who was pulling at something with his not-hoofsies up on the counter. She sat on her rump, waited a little bit and petitioned him, “daddeh, whewe nummies? Bestes’ babbeh hab tummy huwties, nee’ nummies for maek-”
“I know, Anabelle” Jacques cut her off with a slightly snippy tone. He had been busy explaining what he was doing to the camera while he removed the foals from the skewer and placed the charcoaled critters onto a plate. He made sure to be extra-careful in pulling the scorched legs off of their cooked bodies as he couldn’t imagine the mouth-feel would be pleasant. He turned his camera to face her, and picked up a barbecued foal, which he recognized as Pink, from the countertop.
“Okay, now open your mouth and close your eyes Anabelle; this is a super special surprise!”
“-gasp- Anabewwe wub suwpwise! Wub daddeh!” She opened her snout as wide as she could and closed her eyes to visible strain. She could smell something delicious approaching her nostrils, although it did seem an oddly familiar scent. However, Bestest was hungry, and frankly so was she after all the strenuous play the two had engaged in.
But something about the way the nummies smelled somehow seemed… wrong. She tried to ignore it; another something deep in her thinkie-place told her to trust Daddy no matter what, that she should be a good fluffy. As it got closer, her innate concern grew as the stench got more powerful until finally, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She slivered her eyelids open just a moment too late, as the crispy foal entered her mouth and she instinctively chewed her barbecued foal in half.
The flavour was strange; she tasted a hint of milkies’, but the texture couldn’t be further. It was more similar to the pieces of meatie-nummies she sometimes found in and around the trash cans of her alley-way home, except it tasted very familiar, almost as if she had tasted it very recently. She finished chewing, and swallowed the lump of masticated flesh as she processed the flavour.
She couldn’t place how she knew this taste, but she knew it, and she knew that she shouldn’t.
Jacques grinned from behind his camera; he couldn’t believe how easy it was to feed the mare her own foals, and the best part of this experience was her reaction. Her face frozen in perturbed silence as she mulled over the flavour of her meal, he broke her silence and asked her one simple question.
“What does it taste like, Anabelle?”
“Nu wike…” Her face unflinching, except to slowly grow into a terror she couldn’t describe. It tasted like guilt, fear and shame all rolled into one. It was like the worstest bad poopies, but so much worse.
“Excuse me? That’s not very nice, Anabelle, Daddy’s hurt. Say sorry right now.” Jacques said with a stern voice, although his widening smile betrayed his glee.
“S-su sowwy daddeh, huu-huu,” her expression finally cracked, tears welling in her eyes and staining into her fluff as she began sobbing.
“Nu knu wai, buh knu Anabewwe nu wike, huuhuuuhuuuu,”
Jacques sighed, “well, there’s more and this is all the nummies Daddy has for you. You want to feed Bestest, right? You don’t want her having ‘tummy-owwies’ do you?”
She continued her sobbing and shook her head, “Nu! Nu wan’, wan’ Bestes’ be big an’ stwong!” Reluctantly she opened her mouth and closed her eyes once more, ready to receive another piece of meat.
Jacques snickered as he picked up the next foal and brought it to her muzzle. This time, he intentionally held it in front of her nostrils for longer. He could see them flare, as if to take in the scent, and heard her let out a whimper as he stuffed it carefully in her mouth. Reluctantly, she closed her jaws on the crispy barbecued foal and began to chew. Jacques could recognize this one as Blue; it’s face somehow kept a look of sheer terror despite being carbonized by the grill flames. It was actually impressive, if not slightly amusing how well the expression kept.
“Good girl, Anabelle! Your nummies are all done now, I’m so proud of you,”
She continued chewing through the flesh taking in the flavours more thoroughly than the last morsel. Charred meat and fat aside, she could not stop imagining the film she had cleaned off her foals after her Biggest Poopies. It tasted like booboo juice that had a not-pwetty flavour added to it, and this meat tasted close to that. Too close for her liking.
She swallowed, and continued her sobbing. At least it was over, and Daddy did tell her she was a good fluffy. In her mind, his praise softened the discomfort of her meal, whatever that was.
“Huuuu- -hic- f-fank yew d-daddeh,” she broke out between sobs, before turning away to find someone to lie down and cry.
Jacques waited for her to leave the room before addressing the camera. He turned it around and broke into a quiet laughter.
“Hahaha, I don’t think she liked it guys!” His hand glided over the last barbecued foal, picking it up from the counter and popping it into his mouth. He crunched into the charred, delicious body of Green, savouring every bite.
“Wow. That is incredible. Seriously, I was not ready but the flavour is so complex; I can taste fluffy milk clear-as-day, and there’s also a hint of… Is that placenta I taste?” He paused, analyzing the flavour. “I mean, it’s not a bad, coppery-taste of placenta, it’s more like a deep undertone that adds body to the creaminess of milk. Anyways, that’s it for this episode, thank you so much for watching and don’t forget to subscribe, this is Jacques White, Fluffy Chef signing off,” he held smile and frame for a few seconds before closing the viewer on his camera for the day.
Now he knew what to do with Anabelle.
In the following hours, Anabelle finally calmed down. The poor mare was exhausted, sleeping in the laminate floor in his hallway with her tail curled around a full-bellied Bestes’. Jacques took this time to set up a room in his house into an impromptu safe-room for the two napping fluffies. He fished an old litterbox out of his closet and filled it with litter.
“This should prevent some accidents,” he said as he settled the box in the corner of the room.
“And this,” he began as he placed a cardboard box opposite the litter box, “this should do as a bed,” he said to no-one in particular as he placed a towel inside the overturned box.
Leaving the room, he came to the sleeping fluffies and softly woke Anabelle from her nap.
“Hey Anabelle, Daddy made your safe-room for you. Do you guys want to sleep in there instead?”
She slowly shifted her limbs from underneath her, “hab beddie n nyu toysies fow Anabewwe an’ bestes’ babbeh?” She asked with a smile, nearly forgetting the unknown terror she experienced hours ago.
“Yes of course! I’m going to buy you toys tomorrow, but for tonight you guys should sleep in there! Come follow me,” he said as he stood up to lead her in.
It was a little drab, the walls being painted white and the floor was still just as hard as the laminate outside the room. But it had a bed that looked like her old-housie and a litter box to make good poopies. Although it was not optimal, she deemed it was good enough for tonight.
“Fank yew daddeh, Anabewwe wub sabe-woom,” she smiled at him as she sauntered toward the box-beddie. She stamped her hooves into the towel a couple times to shift the material around. Once she was satisfied, she laid down, took Bestes’ off her back and curled herself around her favourite foal.
“Okay you two, Daddy’s gonna be outside. If you need anything, just call for me, okay?”
“Otay daddeh, Anabewwe be here wife Bestes’ babbeh,” she was positively beaming at him as she spoke. Jacques turned and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two to their own devices.
Suddenly, Bestes’ squirmed, and peeped quietly, a low farting noise echoing the empty room. Anabelle looked down to see that Bestes’ had voided herself into her mummah’s fluff, and groaned.
“Siwwy babbeh, nu can maek gud poopies su am Otay. Mummah show yu how soon,” she picked the foal up in her hooves. “Wub babbeh, gun’ gib wickie-cweanies fow Bestes’ babbeh,”
She rolled her tongue out to clean her child, and started cleaning, trying to ignore the taste of poopies. However, there was another taste, one she couldn’t ignore, and it was growing more and more prominent the longer she cleaned. She cleaned and cleaned, licking a little harsher each stroke trying to desperately figure out the taste she was recognizing. Bestest chirped uncontrollably with discomfort at having her newly-formed fluff nearly licked clean off.
Again and again, in a frenzy Anabelle licked, pulling Tufts of fluff off with each stroke as the weakened fuzz gave way. Then, the missing fluff drew blood from her foals’ skin, and she had licked it away. She froze, tongue still on Bestest as the fuller picture of the familiar taste formed on her palate. This tasted like…
*“Nummies?..”
Her eyes shot wide open, her hooves parted slightly, and dropped her Bestest Babbeh onto the towel below. Slowly she retreated from her Bestest, who was now sobbing in pain after her rough landing. The terrible, overwhelming chirping and sobbing overstimulated Anabelle’s shocked mind as she backed further and further away from her baby.
There was only one thing she could think of now. She lifted her head, opened her mouth and screamed
“WHEWE BABBEHS?!”
Next Part
Last Part