“Mummah hab miwkies, miwkies fow babbehs, babbehs dwink miwkies, make tummehs fuww!”
It’s another day in daddehs house, and a mummah is singing cheerfully while her children feed. She’s only been here a few days, but her babbehs being born in a warm howsie was worth losing her special friend. He’d been such a dummeh!
He was convinced nyu daddeh had been up to no good, and he tried to give her tail hurties! It was so scary! Huggygrass shuddered, the memory of her beloved Red Kickies biting her pretty tail was still too recent, too raw. “Owwies! Meanie speciaw fwend, nu huwt taiw! Gu way fwum soon mummah! Hatechu!” She felt so bad leaving him out there, but her babbehs needed a nice warm house and toys and nummies and huggies and love and sketties and all the other wonderful things she’d only ever heard legends of. She’d lived her whole life on the street. She and Red grew up in the same herd, and they’d only ever been comfortable for a few days at a time before being run off by hoomins or munstahs or hoomins with munstahs or falling wawa or meanie burnie owwies from the sky ball.
They’d never lived in a home. Never had a mummah or daddeh who loved them. Could name them. Ferals know they want names, but fluffies can’t name themselves. Their brains won’t let them. One of the many shackles Hasbio managed to breed into these animals to keep them from controlling their lives.
So they name each other.
Ferals wind up with ridiculous silly names, but it’s usually after some pivotal moment in their life, when someone they loved and respected was so taken aback by them that they named them out of sheer exuberance. Basically a nickname that sticks.
Huggygrass had been named while she was a young mare helping with the babbehs. She was hugging one of them and it started chewing on her pretty green fluff. The babbehs exhausted mummah tried to step in, gasping out “Nu! Bad babbeh! Nu am gwassies! Dat just gween fwuff! Fow huggies onwy!” She stamped her front hoofsies and puffed her cheeks so hard that the poor green mare caught in the middle made a scaredy fart. The babbeh giggled, breaking the tension. “Tee hee! Wub! Huggy! Peep cheep! Gwassy! Heeheehee! Huggygwassy!” All three collapsed into giggly huggies and the rest is history.
Red Kickies got his name because when the herd was assaulted by meanie bunnie munstahs he kicked so hard and for so long that by the time the bunnies ran away his hooves were red, both from his foes and from his own sensitive bleeding foot pads.
Not everyone has a happy story.
That was in the past now. She had a new daddy, and her babbehs were gonna have new namesies! Huggygrass hoped they’d be pretty ones as she hummed and giggled through all the mummah songs she knew.
Daddeh came into the basement as she finished. “Mownin’ daddeh! Mummah Huggygwass wub ou! Babbehs aww hab bestest miwkies fwum miwkie pwaces! Babbehs am suuuuuuu fuww!” She trailed off and started excitedly picking up each babbeh between her hooves to hold them to her face and sing them a bespoke mummah song all for them. All nonsense, all saccharine sweet.
But daddeh picked up the little brown babbeh.
“Ummm, dad…daddeh? Be cawefuww wif wittwe babbeh, tu smaww fow big upsies!” Daddeh didn’t look up from the babbeh. “Don’t worry,” he said coldly, “I’ll be gentle.”
The foal tried in vain to suckle daddeh’s finger as he laid in his hand, so he settled for rolling onto his back. His bright brown eyes stared up at daddeh, this being of infinite grace. He was overtaken by emotion.
“Wub! Peep! Cheeeeepeep! Daddeh!”
Huggygrass was beaming with pride. “Gasp! Babbeh make gud tawkies?! Hooway! Su happies! Wub babbeh su muchies! Mummah suuuuuu pwoud ub babbeh!” She had begun relaying the wonderful news to her other babbehs when she was interrupted by a sreech.
"Peep! Peeeyeep cheep! Peep? Peep! Peeeeeyeeeeyeeeeyeeeeeep! CHEEEEEYEEEEPEEEEPEEEEEP!!!"
Daddeh was holding the beautiful brown colt aloft, his lips still wet with bestest milkies, and squeezing him. His tiny leggies were flailing and twitching impotently as he strained against the pressure. His tummy muscles were screaming as daddeh pressed harder and harder, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.
It felt like his tummy was trying to come up through his mouth. He was focusing so hard on keeping his throat closed, his tummy flexed, and his jaw clamped shut that he didn’t notice himself being lowered into a plastic bucket. As the sunlight disappeared, he was suddenly distressingly aware of his situation, and the levee broke.
All the milkies came bursting out through his mouth. It hurt so much. He could feel the muscles he’d flexed fail to do so much as twitch. They’d been torn and broken, they needed to heal. He could feel the bile from his stomach get into his lungs as he gasped for air while projectile vomiting milk that wasn’t even close to half digested. Honestly, the milk probably went a long way to preventing acid burns in his respiratory tract.
Daddeh dropped him the last eight inches, a rough drop for a tiny quivering babbeh covered in his own sick.
Huggygrass was hysterical. “NUUUUUUUU-HU-HU-HUUUUUUUU! Wai daddeh huwt babbeh? Am onwy wittwe babbeh! Nu fow squeezies!” She was quickly and carefully removing her other babbehs as daddeh went over to the wall to wipe his hands on a towel. She began trotting over, still sore from giving birth a few days ago, clumsy from exertion and panic. “Daddeh! Hafta…oof! Dummeh bwockies, git owt da way! Hafta pwease can daddeh gif babbeh mummah? Mummah wan babbeh pwease daddeh, fow mummah?”
Her rambling was even less coherent than usual. By the time she reached the paint bucket, daddeh kicked it. Not hard, but just enough to knock it over and send the sobbing brown babbeh tumbling to the concrete floor. His mummah scooped him up and gave all the huggies she could, while daddeh just watched and smoked his cigarette. Huggygrass had forgotten about daddeh momentarily. Right now, she needed to ensure the safety of her precious chocolate boy.
His eyes were red and puffy from crying. Some popped blood vessels in the eyes from being squeezed left them looking sorta cloudy, but he could see. Blood was coming from his nose and ears, but his tummy and face were mostly soaked with tears and milk.
He gives out faint peeps and cheeps and grasps out weakly for his mummah. “Mummah hewe, babbeh. Mummah hewe.” His screaming reduced to sobbing, his sobbing to wheezy hiccoughs, and those finally to quiet little huhuhus. He was calm enough that she could lower him and let him latch, and soon he was replacing his lost meal.
With that seen to, Huggygrass turned her attention to daddeh, who was now over in the other side of the basement smoking silly grassies and playing harmonica. "Daddeh! Wai huwt wittwe babbeh? Wai be meanie tu gud babbehs? Esspwain nao!" She puffed her cheeks and for a moment all that could be heard was her brown baby frantically suckling and her other children chirping nervously. Daddeh turned, stood, and walked over to Huggygrass.
“Why?”
She scrunched her face in confusion. “Wat? Nu unnastan?” He repeated. “Why? Why do you want to know?” She paused for a moment before answering. “Cuz Huggygwass wub daddeh an wub babbehs an wan daddeh tu wub babbehs awso an daddeh huwt babbeh an-” He gently shushed her. “You’re missing the point. Let’s say I told you? How would that change anything? How would it help you?” He could see he was losing her again.
Her babbeh was done drinking and peeped out a “wub miwkies” and a “babbeh fuww” in gratitude. Mummah picked him up and started rocking him softly while cooing her mummah songs, but daddeh reached in and snatched him.
“NU! SCREEE!” She lashed out and tried to bite him, but he was too quick. Her babbeh was screaming for help and mercy but none came. He was again held over the bucket, and again he was squeezed and purged before being dropped in the growing pile of muck he’d been leaving. This time mummah had to get the bucket knocked over herself. Her babbeh was already so dizzy from all the hurties and the bucket clumsily rolling and tilting before clattering over kept causing him to bounce his nose off of the ground or a wall or his own feet!
Mummah retrieved her babbeh and started feeding him again, this time staring straight at daddeh. “STAHP! NU MOWE PWAY WIF BABBEH! DADDEH GAMESIES AM TUU WUFF! NU WIKE! NU WET DADDEH GIF UPSIES TU BABBEHS!” Daddeh didn’t respond, didn’t react. He just watched as she fed her son. By the end she could feel that she was running out. It’s lucky she had extra, but she’s not bottomless. She has her limits.
Her babbeh lets out a cute little burp and some milk dribbles down his chin. When he’d been feeding this time, he was quietly crying the whole time. Struggling to swallow with his damaged throat muscles. Hurting a stomach that had been inflated and deflated in rapid succession by filling it once again with milk. He was soaked with piss and shit and vomit but that was all secondary. That was all aside. He was safe now. He was fed.
He was, again, picked up by daddeh. Huggygrass begged as she saw daddeh get up. “Nu, nu, nu daddeh, pwease nu daddeh, nu gain! Nu gain! Babbeh nee sweepies! Nu make babbeh sickies! Wet miwkies be in babbeh tummeh dis time! Pwease!” Undeterred, he lifted the panting and exhausted foal. Mummah was trying to keep him, grabbing and biting and howling. Daddeh punched her in the stomach and she doubled over in pain. “OWWWWWIES! DADDEH NUUUUU! NU HUWTIES HUGGYGWASS! WAAAA-HA-HA-HAAAAAAI?” He pulled two alligator clips from his pockets and placed them on her nipples while she was collecting herself. “WOWSTEST MIWKIE PWACE OWWIES! NUUU! NEE DOZE FOW GIF MIWKIES TU BABBEHS!” Daddeh again took the foal to the bucket.
This babbeh, who’d been speaking not long ago, was a barely awake mess who didn’t even struggle to keep the milk down. He was just hanging limp, too tired to fight back. Daddeh lowered him to the shallow pool of disgusting fluids he’d been leaving and pressed his snout under the surface. He held it until he felt the babbeh struggle, indicating that he’d tried to inhale and couldn’t just zone out anymore.
He lifted him up allowing the poor sod to breathe a bit. He was basically saying “peep” at this point. It was no longer a bright noise of an energetic babbeh. It was the raspy pleading of a child whose world had been abruptly filled to bursting with pain and madness. No punch. No vigor. No hope.
He tossed the shambling hairball at his despondent mother who had thus far failed to remove the clips. Daddeh reached down and plucked them off. Nipples were intact, but gouged pretty good. Huggygrass held her babbeh up and he…kinda latched? Sort of? It wasn’t solid, and he’d pop off after twenty or thirty seconds, but he’d drink. Mostly milk. There was some blood from her nipples, but he was thirsty and starving and scared and she was his mummah who loved him.
This time he didn’t let out a cute burp. The milk ran dry when he was only half done. “Peep! Wan miwkies! Cheep! Peep! Stiww hungwy! Peeyeep! Cheeeeeep! Hab tummeh owwies!” His mother sighed. “Sowwy babbeh, nu hab mowe miwkies tiww mummah hab nummies watew. Babbeh hab miwkies den.”
He slid back onto his haunches as his siblings cautiously came to join him and give huggies. "Nu faiw! Babbeh stiww hungy! Babbeh nee mowe miwkies! Nu hab nuff! Tummeh hab huwties! Daddeh gif owwies! Nu faiw! Nu faiw! Wan miwkies! Wan miwkies!" His siblings were hugging and chirping support until one noticed how dirty he was. Then they all ran away, yelling “poopy bwudda” and “smewwy babbeh” and “nee wicky cweanies, ou nastee.”
He sat and wept while daddeh took the bucket away. At least that was a good thing.
He came back a few minutes later with a small glass bowl of a creamy off white fluid. He placed it on the floor where the bucket had been and walked back to his couch to smoke and play Tetris again.
Huggygrass was curious but afraid. How she wished she’d listened to her special friend! He’d been right! But maybe this was good nummies? Maybe daddeh was really a good daddeh! Maybe…
No. Not something that smells this bad. On further inspection, it was the sluice from the bucket. Daddeh had collected it in a dish and left it here. It was roughly 60-70% milk by volume, but the rest was anything from blood to bile to shit to piss. It was foul. It was horrible. It was a meanie trick from her terrible daddeh.
She slumped over on her bed that night. Dinner was late and too small, just enough for all babbehs. But daddeh was back. Despite Huggygrass protesting vocally, he again squeezed her babbeh out, this time into the dish. Then he placed the babbeh in the dish, and rolled him around in it to get him nice and gunky.
That night, after two solid hours of licky cleanies, he was clean again. The tearful reunion with his siblings was a sight to behold. They’d been so scared for him when he was poopy earlier! But now he was good again and they loved him. His unicorn sister even promised to defend him.
All he could muster was “Huuuuu babbeh stiww hungwy…stiww nee miwkies…nu feew pwetty…”
Before long, the family was piled up. Everyone hugged and the frightened family slept. Late at night, Huggygrass felt something stir. She cautiously opened her eye to get a secret peek.
It was her brown babbeh. His skin was sagging from being stretched and emptied so much, and she could see his ribs. “Huuu…su tiwed…wan sweepies…bu babbeh nee miwkies…babbeh hafta gu…” Where was he going? There’s nothing over there but-
Oh. Oh no.
She watched in silent horror as her boy knelt down and drank from the dish. He puked it back up, coughing and spitting. “Huuuu nu taste pwetty…hafta gu swow, nu wan wowstest sickies…” He resumed, slowly this time. His mummah could only sit and watch as her brave babbeh did what he had to do.
After drinking his fill and confirming that he was keeping it down, the tired and put upon foal waddled back to the fluffpile. He nestled in under his mummah’s chin and was startled when she moved to accomodate him. He’d thought she was asleep. “Mummah…mummah see babbeh? Wuz…did mummah…” She kissed him on the head and nuzzled him as she hugged him close. “Mummah see babbeh, mummah wookin. Babbeh du wat babbeh gotta du. Wike mummah. Wike…wike Wed Kickies. Babbeh gud. Wub babbeh.”
His mother had given him permission to hurt. He was right. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t a bad babbeh. “Huuuhuhuhuuuuuuu babbeh jus wan nummies…jus wan weaw miwkies…wai daddeh am meanie…” His mother didn’t know. She couldn’t help. She could only sing.
"Pwetty wittwe babbeh dat mummah wub, hafta be cwevew an kwick! Daddeh am meanie an dat nu gud, su babbeh du miwkie feef twicks!"
Like nicknames that stick.