Chapter 4:
You are Hazel. Your daddy brought you home, and you sat, holding your chirping foals as he puts a pen together, singing your momma songs.
“Mummah wub babbehs, babbehs wub mummah, babbehs dwink miwkies, gwow big and stwong! Babbehs am pwetty babbehs, open see pwaces soon!” you sing, over and over, softly to them.
Your stomach growls loudly. Your daddy stops assembling the pen, and slowly turns to look at you. You flinch. Did you do something wrong?
“Uh, Hazel? When was the last time you ate anything?” your daddy asks. He looks sad. “Wast time was……2 bwite times ago.” you say. That was when the hard nummies your special friend gave you before he was taken away had run out. You didn’t like them, but they gave you lots of milk for your babies, so you ate them and dealt with the pain they gave your talking-place.
Your daddy mutters something under his breath that you can’t quite make out. He picks you up, and places you in the mostly finished pen. “Stay right there with the foals.” he says sternly, walking out of the room. You look at the pen. A soft, but not fluff, pad is under you. It reaches to the edges of the pen. A section of the wall isn’t up yet, but at the rate daddy was going, he’d do it as soon as he was back. A strange box filled with some kind of sand or wood chippings was to your left, and a large fluffy bed was to your right. Near the bed were the stuffy friends and binkies you had helped pick out.
You smile and pick up a binkie. “Come to mummah, babbehs, mummah hab happy ting!” you say, offering the pink one to your three color baby, the brown and white to their respective matching foals.
They suckle away on the tiny toys happily, snuggling together, and up against you. You hear daddy coming back. He’s holding something in his hand. You smell……something good. Is that….?
“Bewwy Nummies?” You ask, gasping. Your daddy must be the BEST nummy finder to get berry nummies THAT fast! Even the best nummy finders in your old herd took longer! “Not quite.” He says, setting the thing down. It’s a bright blue, a color you find very pleasing, and is filled with round, red and purple balls. “Yes, dose am bewwy nummies!” You say, wagging your tail. You carefully stand and walk to the thing he set down, sniffing it. They looked like berries. Smelled like them too.
You prod the blue thing. “What am dis?” You ask, biting it gently. “Bleh, no taste pwetty.” You mutter. “It’s a bowl. It holds food so it doesn’t make a mess on the floor or get lost.” He answers. “The food is called “Kibble”. It’s special for fluffies. These ones will taste and smell just like berries, I thought you might like that. They won’t feel like them in your mouth, but you should still-“
He stops as you take a mouthful and chew. They’re crunchy, but not like the hard nummies, softer. They turn mushy as you chew them. “Taste Pwetty!” You say. “Glad you like it. Eat that, feed the foals when they need it.” He says, starting to finish the pen.
You eat ravenously, scarfing down the food in no time, and carefully putting your babies into the fluffy bed. You trot over to your daddy.
————
You are Theo. You hadn’t planned on getting a Fluffy, let alone 4, let alone 4 feral, but you had. Frankly, you could do with the company. You’ve just finished putting together their pen in your bedroom, and you feel a tug on the back of your shirt. You turn to see Hazel pulling it with her teeth.
“What is it? Still hungry?” you ask. She shakes her head. “Daddeh, thank you for taking Hazew and babbehs to housie.” she says. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I found you 4. I could do with the company.” You say. She looks at you, then sits on her butt and lifts her front legs, motioning for a hug. “Can Hazew have huggies?” she asks, her voice sad.
You lift her up and hug her to your chest. She’s warm and soft, and nuzzles into you. Fluffies really DO give great hugs. “Hazew stiww have wowstest heawt huwties from wosing special fwiend.” she says. You feel moisture on the front of your shirt, she’s crying. “I know you do.” you say, petting her. “Hazew am happeh to have babbehs, and daddeh, and housie, but stiww have saddies.”
Something cracks in you. “It never really goes away, Hazel. I still remember my mom.” you offer. Hazel gasps, and shudders. “Hazew am so sowwy your mummah go fowebah sweepies, Theo.” she says. “Didn’t know daddeh habe wowstest heawt huwties too….”
The two of you sit, silently consoling each other for many long minutes before you put her down. “I need to go to sleep. I’ll be right up there if anything happens, okay Hazel?” You tell her, petting her. Something about all this is deeply therapeutic.
She nods. “Good dawk time, daddeh.”
— — — —
You are Hazel. You have a broken heart. You love your foals, of course. They’re beautiful, they’re perfect, you wouldn’t give them up for anything. Your daddy is very nice.
But you have heart hurties. You miss your special friend, you wish he was here, you wish he got to see his babies, to meet your new daddy, to live here, with all of you.
Your daddy has just finished putting the last part of the pen up, and you gently place your foals in their new bed. You walk to your daddy, and tug his not-fluff. He turns to look at you. “What is it? Still hungry?” he asks. Silly daddy. He gave you so much food, and he thinks you might still be hungry? You shake your head.
He listens as you thank him, and tells you that he’s happy he found you. Normally, this would make you the happiest fluffy ever, but not right now. You ask for a hug. You NEED a hug, you’ve needed a good hug from another adult fluffy, or from a human, for nearly a week. He picks you up, and hugs you.
You tell him everything. How you’re still sad, how it still hurts, you wish your special friend was here, he’d have loved Daddy. You cry, and your daddy tells you his momma went forever sleepies too.
You didn’t know daddies could have heart hurties. Daddies weren’t supposed to have heart hurties. They were supposed to be different. Maybe everybody has problems sometimes? Even daddies and mommas?
Maybe they need huggies too?
— — — —
3 Days later.
You are a fluffy. You don’t know where you are. You remember being moved around a lot. Poked at. Drinking something that wasn’t milk, but was good tasting. Then lots of milk, lots of songs, lots of huggies. Some from your momma, some from something else, something warm that cupped under you, and stroked your tiny head, or your round belly. You grabbed at it with your hooves, giving it huggies back. It wasn’t momma, and it didn’t sing or give milk, but it was nice. You liked when it stroked you, you liked the way it smelled, and momma was always there nearby.
And then, today, you felt your see-places open. You could see a pretty brown Mare looking around, singing a momma song. You peep and chirp. She looks at you.
You can see the biggest heart happies in her face. “B-Babbeh open see pwaces?” She says. “M-Mummah…” you squeak. “Das right babbeh! Am Mummah!”
The first thing you ever saw was your mother. She picks you up and begins to lick you, cheering and crying and singing. “Wub mummah!” You say. “WUB BABBEH! WUB BABBEH SO MUCH!” She says, hugging you and pouring her love into you. You can hear other chirping. Siblings? They must be.
“DADDEH! DADDEH COME QUICK! IS BEST BWITE TIME!” your mother yells! Over somewhere to your side, you hear rustling. “What!? WHat’s happening, I’m here, something wrong!?” Another voice says. It’s not a fluffy. But you know it. It’s the same voice as the warm thing that pets you!
Another figure comes into view. It’s not a fluffy, that’s for sure. It’s tall, standing on two legs, with brown fluff on it’s head and blue see places with…something over them, something shiny.
“Daddeh, Mummah’s babbeh have opened see pwaces!” you mother says, holding you up to the figure. “Wub!” you cheep. Daddeh? It’s name must be Daddeh! “Daddeh! Wub!” You chirp!
“Awwww! Look at her! She’s developed really fast!” he says, petting your small head with a finger. “Huggies!” You say. “Miwkies!”
Your daddy laughs. “I think she’s hungry, Hazel.” He says. “Yes, Babbeh need miwkies!” She says, putting you to suckle. You close your eyes, and snuggle to her. You feel so loved.
— —— —
You are Hazel. You’re quietly singing your momma songs, making sure not to wake daddy. He’s sleeping, and you hear him muttering in his sleep. He must be having sleep-pictures in his head!
Then you hear insistent chirping, and look down. Your 3-colors baby has opened her eyes, and is looking right at you. Your heart soars. Your baby. Your beautiful little foal, has opened her eyes.
The first thing she ever sees is you. She should have opened them yet, by all rights, how did she? Is this a sleep-picture?
“B-Babbeh open See-pwaces?” You ask, not believing it.
“M-Mummah…” she chirps.
You’re overjoyed. You haven’t been this happy since you had your foals. “Das right babbeh, am mummah!” You say, breathing fast and shallow. You scoop her up and lick her, hugging her, treasuring your little miracle. “Wub Mummah!” She says as you sing to her. You can’t hold it in anymore. “WUB BABBEH! WUB BABBEH SO MUCH!” You say, hugging her and snuggling her.
Daddy needs to see this! This is the most important thing! He’s sleeping, but he can go back to sleep if he’s still tired, right? You just know he’ll want to see this! “DADDEH! DADDEH COME QUICK! IS BEST BWITE TIME!” you shout as loud as you can, which is rather forcefully.
You hear him jolt upright and come running over, putting his see-things on his see-places.
He’s just as stunned when he sees your baby. He pets her, and seems overjoyed, sitting with you, and watching her nurse.
—— — —
You are Theo.
You looks down at the 3 colored fluffy nursing from Hazel’s teat, and smile. You’re not sure how this tiny baby opened her eyes so quickly. Her siblings are still very much Chirpies. You pick up the white foal and she peeps a few times before calming down and letting you pet her.
“So….I’m thinking I should name that one.” you say, pointing at the talkie. Hazel stops her momma song and looks at you happily. “Namsie fow babbeh?” she asks. “Well yeah, I was going to name all of them ,once they all opened their eyes, but that one’s an early bloomer, so I guess we can give her one now, don’t you think? She’s even speaking a few words, it’s probably a good idea to give her a name.”
Hazel nods. “Dat make sense to Hazew. Wet babbeh hab miwkies, den give namsie!” she says. You appreciate that she’s smart enough to insist on the foal’s necessities first and foremost. “Babbeh dwink bestest miwkies from bestest nummies, gwow big and stwong…” she coos, feeling the foal knead and suckle for several minutes. It detaches and peeps. You pick the foal up and hold her at eye level. “Wub! Chip! Huggies!” She babbles.
You think for a long moment. What should you name her? You didn’t think about it much until now. An idea sparks in your brain.
“Your name is Neapolitan!” You say, smiling. “Can you say “Neapolitan?”
“Neeapowiten!” She squeaks, bouncing happily on your palm.
Hazel speaks up “Dat am pwetty namsie, daddeh! Wiww othew babbehs names be as pwetty?” she asks.
“Of course! All the foals are so pretty, they need pretty names too!”
The both of you enjoy this for a long moment, and Neapolitans smile vanishes. She takes a straining look.
“Mmmmp!”
You have been pooped on by your first foal.
“…. Well, it was nice while it lasted!”
Hazel reaches out and grabs Neapolitan. “Nuuuu! Dun poop on daddeh, Neapowitan! Daddeh am not wittabocks!” She wails, dismayed, putting her foal in to the box. “Poopies outside bocks am bad poopies! Make good poopies in da bocks!” She chides.
You reach over and dump the poop into the box. “Like that, please. I’m gonna go wash my hands.”
“Daddeh, Hazew am SO SOWWY! Pwease no be mad at Babbeh! Babbeh dun know bettew!” She pleads.
“I know, I’m not made just……Poop is gross.” You say, standing up.
You hear Hazel admonishing the foal at length about “Good poopies” and “No poopie on daddeh.” for roughly the next 10 minutes.
“Hazel? I’m gonna clean out the spare room and get to work on a saferoom for you all. If the baby makes another bad poopie just let me know and I’ll clean it up. Don’t worry too much, she’ll eventually learn.”
“Thank you, Daddeh! Wiww teach babbeh, wuv you daddeh!” she replies, looking determined.
“Good fluffy.”
You can only hope this is the last time you’ll be literally shit on.
bad poopies was inevitable but hazel is a good girl she will have them right by the time they reach full talkie baby i imagine