Chapter 2 of Demeter’s tale!
What is paradise? Is it a place, or is it a people? For this foal, this seemed like paradise. The sun sat high in the sky, and they were even surrounded by an especially fattened mare. The ‘hewd-mummeh’ as she was called, had the sole responsibility of nursing and raising the herd’s foals so that the bigger fluffies could more easily do tasks delegated to them by the smarty, or when the toughies felt especially slothful and decided to offload their work onto somebody else. The ‘hewd-mummeh’ was so kind. So understanding. Not like ‘smawty-mummeh’. But like all good things, it must come to an end. With a sad look on her face, the ‘hewd-mummeh’ approached the foal. “Hewwo hewd-mummeh!” the foal chirped, tripping over itself to give her a big hug.
“Poopeh-head…” she spoke, a frown on her face. Before she could continue, the foal piped up. “Why hewd-mummeh su sad?” it asked. “Poopeh-head awe big tawkeh babbeh nao. Poopeh-head nee’ go be wif da udda nummie-findews.” The ‘big babbeh’’s muzzle was pressed deep into the ‘hewd-mummeh’’s magenta fluff, trembling as the tears freely flowed. “Buh…babbeh nu wan’ weab hewd-mummeh! Nu wan’ be nummie-findew! Smawty-mummeh suuu mean!” it whined, as it clung even tighter. This hurt the ‘hewd-mummeh’ even more, as she gently prodded the foal with her hooves. “It okay, babbeh!” she said, trying to hold back the tears. “Poopeh-head visit hewd-mummeh anytime!” she tried to reason.
But the foal was having absolutely none of it. “NUUU! BABBEH NU WAN’ GOOO!” it shrieked, the ensuing theatrics not only startled the younger foals, but also attracted the attention of a toughie, which leisurely trotted up. “Wat wong, hewd-mummeh?” it asked, cocking its head. She knew she had to answer. It was as if the sharpest of ‘wockys’ was being driven into her ‘heawty’, giving her ‘wowst saddies’. After a moment of silence, she let out a sigh. “Poopeh-head nu wan’ weab. Hewd-mummeh twy expwain dat dey big babbeh nao, an’ need gu hewp da hewd…” she said, eyes affixed to the ground.
The toughie sighed as it approached. “Poopeh-head?” it asked, prodding her in the side with its hoof. “GO ‘WAY! BABBEH WAN’ BE WITH HEWD-MUMMEH!” it cried. The toughie than began to slightly apply more pressure. “Is okay, Poopeh-head!” the toughie squeaked, doing its best to console her. “Hewd-mummeh awways be hewe to gib huggies ‘an ‘wub!” The foal grunted slightly as she could feel herself being pried off. “Cum on, Poopeh-head!” the toughie grunted. “Bein’ nummie-findew is impowtant fo’ da hewd!” it tried to explain. “Nummie-findews bwing da nummies fow’ da hewd! Dat means hewd-mummeh too!” it squeaked, which then at last gave the foal some pause. The crying had stopped.
“…Weawwy?” she asked, turning her tearstained sea-green muzzle to the toughie. “Of cowse! It vewy impowtant!” it quickly replied, as the foal finally let go. “See, Poopeh-head?” the ‘hewd-mummeh’ said, smiling. “Is okay. Hewd-mummeh awways haff wubbies in heawt fow you.” With that, Poopeh-head was filled with a new sense of purpose! Of course she’d much rather laze around in the comfort of the only fluffies who would not look at her with a sense of derision, but, it was now time to pay it forward. “Fank yuu, hewd-mummeh, an’ tuffie.” She said, giving each both a hug. The toughie smiled as he craned his neck down and collected the poopy-headed foal onto his back, and carried her away. “Okay, babbeh! We go nummeh pwace nao.” He said.
Poopeh-head had shut her eyes, figuring to get some extra ‘sweepies’ in before beginning her new life as nummie-finder. She would make sure to find the most tastiest of ‘bewwies’ for ‘hewd-mummeh’. Poopeh-head had never been afforded the chance to eat one before that hadn’t been stepped on by ‘smawty-mummeh’ as some cruel joke. “Poopeh-head?” the toughie asked, her eyes still shut. “Yu ‘wake?” it asked. “Mmmh…yesh…” Poopeh-head grumbled, splaying herself on the toughie’s back.
The last thing she heard before being flung off was a low growl. “Gud!” The sensation of being mid-air was one that deeply terrified Poopeh-head, screaming as she sailed half a foot away and against the foot of a tree. “TUHH…TUH….TOUGH…” Poopie-head stammered, as her eyes flashed open. The toughie wordlessly trotted over towards her, as a smile began to spread across his face. “T-T-Toughie fwen…wat happen?” the foal asked, as she stood back up on her hooves. “Hehe! Dummeh babbeh! Smawty tell toughie dat if dummeh poopeh-head babbeh cause twouble, den I get to gib ouchies!” it said, causing Poopeh-head to recoil against the tree. Nowhere to run.
“Buh…buh…Poopeh-head nu am bad babbeh!” it fearfully protested. “Po-o-…Poopeh…” it weakly stuttered, as it voided its bowels. “Poopeh-head am gud babbeh!” This outburst caused the toughie to shake its head. “Dummeh babbeh gib hewd-mummeh wowst heawt ouchies!” it said, as it raised its hoof. This would be measured and calculated. Not enough to end her miserable little life, but just enough force to inflict quite a lot of pain.
Many an insolent foal and fluffy alike had been punished in such ways. Perhaps being the smarty’s only ‘babbeh’ provided the foal with the delusion that she’d be given preferential treatment. But all were equal under the toughie’s hoof. “SCREEEE! HEWD-MUMMAH! HEWP BABBEH! HEEEE—” The foal once more adopted its favored defensive posture—tail and ass stuck in the air, tiny trembling hooves covering her eyes.
Then, the world went black, darker than the deepest pitch. It was also surprisingly warm. Soft, too! The foal did not feel any pain. Slowly, her eyes opened to find herself underneath something bright. “Uuuf…so bwight…” she murmured, tears forming in her eye. “Haff bad sleepy pictuwe memowy…” the foal muttered rolling off from her back. “Whewe…whewe am Poopeh-head?” she asked herself, surveying her new surroundings.
She would turn her head, observing a great many things she had never seen before in her life. A great big square-shaped metallic pit, with a cane-shaped metal tube protruding out from above. It was interesting, sure, but there was something else that had began to gnaw at her. Where was the rest of her herd? She stood on shaky hooves, doing a slow 360-degree spin, trying to see if anyone was nearby.
“H-Hewwo?” she called out, her dry tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She hadn’t realized just how thirsty and hungry she was. She sat back down on her legs, putting a hoof over her sea-green belly. “Uuu….babbeh am so hungies…” she groaned. On the counter adjacent to her, she saw something interesting. A collection of long, pointed orange sticks that had a green top. Oh! She had seen those before! She would recall an instance of helping a bigger fluffy break down something just like that and bringing it back to the herd! Though she scarcely tasted it, she remembered it being quite bitter. She had seen what hunger could drive a desperate fluffy to do, and she wasn’t quite ready to sink to those depths quite yet.
Gathering what little courage she had, she clambered past the edge of the blanket, and off the warm bright space she had been resting on. “Eep!” she squeaked, as her little hoof came into contact with the cold granite countertop. “S-Su cowd…” she softly whispered, as another hoof came down. And then another.
Her body quivered with each hoof, until at last she stood on the counter. She felt quite content with herself, her tail flitting from side to side as she slowly walked over to the bitter nummies. She gave them another appraising look, walking along the side of them to the top. She noted some brown flecks on some of them, gulping. “Hope dese not poopie nummies…” she whispered, as she took the plunge.
Poopeh-head remembered it taking quite some time to break these down, even with the assistance of a properly grown-up fluffy. She paused for a moment, before feeling her tummy rumble. It was all the motivation she needed to continue. Even if her jaw got tired out and felt winded, she would not relent. After what seemed like an eternity to her, she at long last succeeded at breaking off a little chunk.
It was slightly too big for her to swallow, so she had to spit it out and repeat the process. By the end of it, there was the familiar taste of iron in her mouth. “Blehhh…” she groaned, as she finally devoured the tiny carrot chunk. “Dis nummie nu taste good…wan miwkies…” she sighed. She missed the taste of it.
At the very least, even if she didn’t notice, the carrot provided somewhat of a hydrating effect to her, which made her feel a bit better. Her tongue didn’t feel like it was glued to the roof of her mouth anymore, which brought her some relief. The whole ordeal, however, had been a massive exertion on her part. “Huu…babbeh feew so sweepy…” she yawned, her head drooping slightly. “Maybe jus’ take widdle sweepies…” the foal murmured. She would blink a bit in succession, each blink taking longer than the last. Until finally—CLOMP. “Whuh…?” her head jolted up, frantically looking around. She recognized that sound. The sound of heavy boots stomping and clomping around.
The sound had always been followed by ‘smawty-mummeh’ and the toughies corralling the herd and fleeing. It always made Poopeh-head sad to see, especially because of the ‘special toughies’. For reasons unknown to her, they would always stay behind to give the ‘munstah hoomins’ the ‘wowstest owchies’. The diversion would typically work, buying them enough time to escape beyond their reach.
Poopeh-head never saw any of those fluffies again. Her tiny little heart thundered in her chest at the thought of it. But this time, Poopeh-head was separated from her herd. There were no toughies, brave or not, left to protect her. As the clomping got closer, she could feel herself tremble in fear. If there was anything left in her stomach to expel, she surely would have soiled that countertop. Instead, the fatigue took its price.
She could only cover her face with her hooves and babble incessantly as the noise got closer. Finally, she heard something heavy being moved, followed by a click. “Hoooh! Man!” A voice! A…familiar voice. Dave lazily stomped his way to the fridge, raising his hand to his voice for a loud, deep yawn. He pulled it open, retrieving a nice refreshing bottle of cola.
He grabbed his trusty bottle opener and pried the cap off in a single swift motion. He took a long swig, before setting down the bottle down, and let out a tremendous belch. Dave was drenched in sweat, his jeans soiled by a mixture of soil and bits of crusted fluffy shit. He walked over to the heating lamp, cocking his brow. “Huh. Where could that little…ah.”
It wasn’t hard to miss the sea-green and brown foal against the white granite and carrots. “What’s wrong, huh?” he asked, noting its disposition. “SCREEE! GU ‘WAY, MUNSTAH!” it screeched, causing Dave to raise his brow. “Hey! C’mon.” he replied, as he scooped the little creature into his palm. She barely fit inside of it. “EEEE!” it screamed, as it feebly thrashed around. “HEEEEWP! MUMMEH! HEWP BABBEH! HEEEEEEWP!” it continued to howl in terror. This all made David very, very uncomfortable. “Hey! Hey! Relax! Relax, okay?” he said, nervously looking around the room. He certainly didn’t appreciate it screaming bloody murder at him. With his free hand, he extended his finger outward at the foal, and began rubbing her belly.
He knew just how sensitive and fragile a fluffy, especially a foal, could be. “There, there…” he murmured, as the trashing eventually began to stop. “Way easier than making my nieces calm down…” he thought, as he continued stroking her. “So…uh…” he said, sizing her up. “Are…are you okay?” he asked, gently pushing her tiny hooves down. “I’m not gonna hurt you or nothin. It’s gonna be okay.” He tried his best reassuring voice.
When he’d speak to his plants, they would never respond. But this…this was different. Slowly, the foal’s eyes opened as she stared at the hoomin’s face. “N…Nice mistew?” she asked, adjusting herself so that she sat on her bottom. Talk about a whirlwind of emotions. “Uh…yeah. Whatever that is.” He gave her a slow nod. “Nice mistew haf’ miwkies fow’ babbeh?” it asked eagerly.
Dave merely rose his eyebrow. “Miwkies…that’s…milk, right?” he thought to himself. “What’s wrong?” he asked, as he noticed the tiny pieces of carrot that had gotten into her fluff. “Carrot not agree with ya?” he asked, chuckling slightly. Poopeh-head shook her head. “Nu. Owange nummies nu taste gud…an’ vewy hawd to num.” she yawned, once more relaxing from her ordeal.
He nodded slowly. “Well, how about I cook it for you?” he asked, returning her to the spot under the heat lamp. “You just rest here, and I’ll make it easier, okay?” he said, to which Poopeh-head could find no argument to. “Huu…buh Poopy-head wan’ miwkies…ow tasty bewwy…” she whined slightly. Dave then washed his hands and got to work.
He took a knife, cutting the carrot below where it had been bitten into. It was hard for Dave to see, but, there was a little chunk missing toward the bottom. He took that, and threw it into his magic bullet. He dumped in some milk and sugar, and let it blend, the result being an entirely unappealing looking slime. It didn’t smell particularly good, but, hey! Dave wasn’t gonna be the one to eat it.
He fished a baby bottle his sister had left out of his drainboard. Figured that he’d have it cleaned out by the next time his nieces would visit. He returned to the heating lamp, and scooped the foal up. He gently stroked her with his thumb, causing her to rouse once more. “Hewwo nice mistew…” she said, one of its eyes lazily half-lidded.
“I’ve got something for you to try. Here.” Dave said, awkwardly shoving the bottle’s rubber nipple at her face. If she had any, Poopeh-head would certainly be raising an eyebrow. Whatever that slop that filled less than a quarter of the bottle did not look like her precious ‘miwkies’. “Buh…dis no miwkies…dis no tastee bewwy!” she protested, trying to nudge the bottle away. “Nu smeww pwetty, eida…” she shook her head. Dave sighed.
“I don’t have any milk for you. Or berries. I don’t grow them.” Even from where he was standing, the disappointment on her tiny little face was plain. Dave’s eyes lit up as an idea took root in his head. “….But, if you’re a good fluffy…er…baby, then, I might grow some for you.” That certainly got Poopeh-head’s attention. “P…Poopeh-head am gud babbeh!” she quickly chimed, her eyes beaming.
“I’m sure you are. And…Poop…Poopy baby?” he asked, as the foal began to suckle. It took a few minutes for her to get comfortable with the rubber nipple, and even longer for her to get the suction going. Her eyes lit up as for the first time in a long time, she could feel her belly swell with food that hadn’t been stomped on. After a few moments, the foal pulled back to catch her breath. Carrot slurry dribbled down her muzzle as she licked her lips.
“Babbeh ish Poopeh-head.” She said. “Smawty-mummeh gif me dat name!” she said, as she went back for what remained of the carrot-slurry. Poopeh-head’s little tail began to wag. She hadn’t known such kindness since she’d been with ‘hewd-mummeh’. “Frankly,” Dave said, as he took the now-empty bottle away. “That name’s a little ridiculous. Even for me. I came up with something better.” He said, twisting the cap off and filling it with some hot water.
“Sometin…bettah?” the foal asked, falling flat on its back. Her gut was slightly distended outward, and she let her hooves rest upon it. “Yeah. I ain’t seen no nards on ya, so, I figures you’re a girl fluffy, right?” Dave asked, depositing the now-clean bottle back into the drainboard. “Mmmhm! Mmmhm!” the foal replied, smiling. “Babbeh am gwow up an’ be pwetty mawe! Den haf babbehs an’ be da bestest mummeh ebah!” she proclaimed, sticking a hoof into the air.
Dave nodded. That was one thing he had heard was true about fluffies. They live to eat, shit, and breed. “But dat mean Poopeh-head haf weav’ nice mistew howsie an’ find speshul fwen’!” she continued. “You don’t want to stay?” Dave asked, walking back in front of the heat lamp. She was accustomed to the life of a transient, so this had given her pause.
“N…Nice mistew…nyu daddeh?!” she asked, lifting herself back up. “Well…” Dave said, delivering another sigh. “Seeing as how I’m partially responsible ‘fer yer herd leavin’ ya behind…I guess, yes.” Dave wasn’t entirely sold on the concept. The only living things that he had ever taken care of had been simply…plants. “POOPEH-HEAD SUUU HAPPY!” she squealed in delight, rocking herself up to stand on her hooves properly.
“…That’s enough of that Poopy head stuff.” Dave said, shaking his head. “I’ve decided to give you a new name” he said, which then caused Poopeh-head’s mouth to curl into an ‘o’ in surprise. “N-Nyu name? Fow me?” she asked. “Demeter. Your new name is Demeter. Don’t let me hear you call yourself Poopy head again, y’hear?” Dave said, before reaching down to stroke her head with a finger.
Poopeh—no. Demeter. Demeter beamed up at her new daddy, tears streaming from her eyes, wiping them to make sure she wasn’t having ‘sleepy pictures’. This was the real deal. There was one thing that bothered her, though. She felt a single lingering regret on her mind, that she was unable to say goodbye to her much loved ‘hewd-mummeh’. It would pass, and fade into memory, until ultimately fading to nothing. Grabbing a napkin, Dave wiped the quickly drying carrot slurry from her muzzle.
“Babbeh have qwestin…” she said, cocking her head. “Wat daddeh mean gwow da bewwy?” she asked, excited at the prospect of cramming more food down her gullet. Dave had been polishing off the rest of his cola when he turned back. “Mm?” Dave grumbled, trying to process its speech. “Ah! I’m a gardener. I mostly grow vegetables. Like those carrots.” He said, pointing at them. Demeter had a blank look in her eye for a moment until she realized.
“Dat mean…daddeh am nummie makew?” Demeter didn’t quite understand the ramifications of such a thing, but, was content nonetheless. “Uh…I guess you could say something like that, yeah.” Dave said. “I’m gonna…gonna go take a shower now. Just stay there for now, okay?” he said, as he clomped past the foal, gently stroking her face. He would again feel that protrusion at the center of her forehead. He’d have to do more research about the various fluffy types. That was for certain.
