In only 3 days, Oddment had ballooned to a tremendous size and her appetite had grown with it. This morning, between happy hums about her vewwy-soon-babbehs, she had (politely) demanded as much food as Tickle, who had also grown considerably, could bring.
The large sausage roll that he had retrieved had only lasted but a day, and he had since been back out in the bin enclosure pretty much constantly from dawn to dusk to retrieve new nibbles and crumbs.
He hadn’t found anything like the sausage roll, but there was still plenty of other tidbits lying around- plus, Humans came and added more, usually at night. He had thankfully only bumped into just one of them the previous evening, but they didn’t notice him cowering in the corner as they dumped their bags and left.
Since his first outing, Tickle had become fairly comfortable with leaving the nest for a little while.
He would never leave the immediate area (and often returned to Oddment for a quick hug), but sometimes he did chance standing on the precipice of the bin enclosure to curiously peek out down the street, which he found himself doing now.
He had scouted around the bins most of this morning, amassing a fair pile just outside the nest made up of old berries, a stale biscuit, and some flowers and weeds he’s pulled up.
He’d decided that before doing any more nummie-seekies, he would rest first.
Curling up in a little hole in the brickwork where he had also placed a little of the nest’s fluff, he suckled on his hooves to ease the pain of walking on them all morning, and watched a few cars drive by while his hooves softened up in his mouth.
Oddment had told him that the cars were ‘friends’ that let things ride them kind of like how she let him ride in her mane. She said that the cars are “vewy gud at doin’ wawkies an’ wunnies” but that they “am nu gud fo’ doin’ stoppies”, so she warned him to stay out of their way or they would squish him flat! They apparently only stayed on roads, so he was safe as long as he watched from afar.
He had wondered for the last few days why the cars slept for so long at the side of the road, and during the bwight-time as well! After tiring himself out running around so much though, he believed he had figured it out: cars need to sleep so much because they are always running around and got tired just like he did!
His mouth, full of hoof as it was, curled into a silly smile at this intellectual feat.
His imagination and curiosity had been set wild by Oddment’s stories. As scary as it was, the world outside was also intriguing, and it beckoned him to explore and examine and study it all… and now that he was a little bigger (and still growing), he found the idea of adventuring beyond not entirely disagreeable.
In the scant times when he and Oddment were at rest, he liked to bombard her with all kinds of questions between his mouthfuls of milk. He simply… felt like had to know more.
These feelings were yet another leftover from Hasbio’s unfinished work. They wanted Fluffies to help children learn by asking questions about everything around them… and also ask to buy Hasbio products, too. This was found to be an annoying trait during testing, but the PETA leak happened before it could be altered.
As he twisted himself around to suckle on his back hooves, Tickle’s ears twitched with attention. It sounded like the voice of another Fluffy, though it was but a far-off squeak beneath the hum-drum of everything else.
He listened closely for a moment, turning his head up and around to try and hear better. Yes- just over the background noise of the surrounding neighborhood, he could indeed hear another Fluffy.
Though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, Tickle could tell that it was a boy Fluffy- or maybe even a Daddeh Fwuffy. With a glimpse up and down the street, he decided to go out- only a little ways, of course- and see if he could find this other Fluffy who was nearby. Maybe… maybe they were a nyu fwend, and could help him get his mummah more nummies?
Tickle was still cautious as he crept across the cracked pavement just beyond the bin enclosure towards the road. He made sure to dart his head left and right constantly, checking over and over for potential dangers. When he at last reached the edge of the pavement, he plopped down off of the curb and into a rim of the parked car before him, tucking himself within so he could remain as hidden as possible.
The pavement was clear of any Humans as far as he could see.
The road had a few cars parked here and there but otherwise was also mostly empty save for one passing by.
He scanned along the street once more, paying attention to the direction of the voice his ears had heard- just off to the left of the enclosure somewhere.
The Fluffy (wherever they were) was still making noise, and Tickle could make out now that they were in fact singing in a dumb and plodding voice even for a Fluffy: “~Cawwot hab da bestes’ nosie, gu espworin’ fo’ tasteh nummies ~Cawwot du sniffies on da gwound, find da bestes’ nummie aww awound! Hee hee~”
Eventually, the Fluffy waddled into view from behind a parked van a good ways up the street.
He had bright orange fluff, and a dark green mane and stubby tail, and he was incredibly fat: so large that even though he was on the tarmac of the road his unbelievable girth spilled out over the edge of the curb, wobbling along as he stepped forth and sniffed at the ground. His only other notable feature was a brown collar around his neck.
Tickle watched a while as this Fluffy slowly trundled closer until he suddenly stopped around 12 meters or so from the bin enclosure next to the wheel of another parked car with a terribly embarrassed look on his face.
“Uh oh, Cawwot nee’ du poopies, an’ nu see wittahbawks anywhewe!” He exclaimed upwards, as though he were talking with a human owner.
He quickly looked around, then daintily raised his rear and folded his tail off to the side. With his face scrunched up and his cheeks puffed out, he gave a single, forceful grunt and splattered the side of the car next to him with a coating of steaming shit, “ooooh~ tummeh an’ poopie pwace hab gud feews!” he said after, patting a clean spot on the car with a hoof, “Sowwy fo’ bad poopies vwoomie fwiend, hee hee~” he said, before hoisting himself onto the pavement.
When he had righted himself, he began sniffing again, only at the air this time instead of the ground- and he seemed to catch a scent (well, other than the mess he had just made).
He paced quickly down the street towards Tickle and the bin enclosure, his fat snout stuck high the whole time, twitching. When he reached the area, he stopped, “Cawwot smeww oddah fwuffies hewe,” he postulated out loud, “hmmmm, nu see oddah fwuffies… am Cawwot’s bestes’ nosie pwayin’ gamsie wif Cawwot?”
He gawked between the bins, tottering back and forth with his stocky tail wagging, keenly muttering “hewwo?” and “dewe fwends hewe?” When he began to try fitting between some of the bins (which was quite a struggle for one of his generous size), Tickle finally decided that this Fluffy was, by the very least, not a threat.
“H-hewwo, nyu fwiend?” Tickle called out.
Carrot stopped immediately, his head shot straight up, and his ears pricked around frantically, “huh!? Cawwot heaw babbeh? Whewe am!?”
“Obah hewe!” Tickle called again, leaning out of the car’s rim.
Carrot snapped around and stared down at the foal, a mix of confusion and delight painting his plump face, “Oh, hewwo babbeh!” he said, bending down to the foal, “Am Cawwot! Whud yu namsie?”
“Am Tickwe!”
“Hmmmmm… am Tickwe pwayin’ hidie an’ peekies in vwoomie fwend’s weggie? Cawwot wub hidie an’ peekies!”
“Nu! Am doin’ seekies fo’ nummies!”
Carrot’s expression changed to confusion. A babbeh doing… nummie seeking? “Babbehs nu am fo’ nummie seekin’, siwwy!” He insisted, “Babbehs am fo’ huggies an’ wubs an’ pway!”
“Nee’ du seekies fo’ nummies fo’ Mummah!”
Carrot’s confused face contorted further, his fat brows furrowing and his cheeks puffing slightly, “Nu hab daddeh fo’ gib nummies?”
“N-nu… onwy Tickwe can seekie nummies…”
“Wai yu Mummah nu git nummies?”
“Mummah tuu heaby! Hab tummeh babbehs!”
Carrot reached maximum confusion as he reached a fat hoof down to scoop Tickle up onto the pavement.
How could a mummah already have such a young foal, and yet also have more babbehs already coming?
He didn’t know much about mares or babbehs- his Daddeh wouldn’t let him have either, and the other neighborhood Fluffies were all boys- but he knew enough from what he’d seen on Fluff TV: tummeh babbehs took at least a few… what were they called? Weeksies? Yeah, at least a few of those to appear in a mummah’s belly- but, this foal, Tickle? He was smaller even than those cute babbehs on Fluff TV! He couldn’t be more than 3 or 4 weeksies old, surely…
When Tickle was safely back on the pavement with a little ‘fankoo~’ up to his big orange helper, Carrot questioned him again, “Hao yu Mummah hab Tickwe an’ hab tummeh babbehs tuu?”
“Mummah hab Tummeh Babbehs befow findie Tickwe…”
Ah, so that was it! “Cawwot am 'dopted tuu!” he said with eagerness, “wan be 'dopted fwends, Tickwe?”
Tickle nodded, “Yuss!”
The pair then spent a few Hasbio-approved moments exclaiming how much they both wub their new friend, as well as noting how much they both wub having friends, all accompanied by small and excited tippy-taps of their hooves.
Their celebration was cut short, however, when Tickle spotted a man walking towards them from behind Carrot. Suddenly, his ears drooped, his face twisted in horror, and he squeaked out “n-nee’ du w-wunnies away!” Alas, his hooves wouldn’t move, quivering as they were- and he thought he probably wouldn’t be able to make it back to the bins before the man arrived anyway.
“Huh? Wai du scawdy cwys, Tickwe?” Carrot asked, briefly alerted by the foal’s panicking and trembling. Looking backwards, he casually regarded the approaching man. As he passed, Carrot sat back and waved, “Hewwo nice mistah!”
The man slowed his pace for only a second, considering punting the fat orange fuck in the face, but spied the stallion’s collar and decided not to, “Fuck off ya wee prick,” the man spat, continuing on his way.
“Hab nicie day tuu!” Carrot called after him, unaware of the venom in the fellow’s voice. He returned his attention then back to Tickle, who stared up in disbelief with a few fresh nuggets of poop behind him.
“W-wha- hao du- wha-” Tickle stuttered, still a little shaky.
“Tickwe am saddies?” The foal continued to stammer and shake, “Hmmmm… Wan huggies?” Upon hearing the word, Tickle instinctively raised his hooves up and Carrot obliged, leaning over and lifting Tickle up to his chest fluff, “Wai hab saddies, Tickwe?”
“H-hoomins scawy… gib h-h-huwties…”
“Huh? Hoomins am gud mummahs and daddehs! Awways gib ‘hewwos’ an’ tweats fo’ Cawwot,” Tickle only sniffled and stared up at him. Perhaps this Babbeh simply didn’t like stranger Humans? “Hmmm… whewe am yu homsie an’ Mummah?”
Tickle pointed towards the bin enclosure, “nestie am obah dewe…” he uttered, then Carrot repositioned him into his neck fluff, letting him grip onto the collar.
After he walked over to the bins, Carrot pushed against the gaps between them, using his shoulders to judge if there was enough space for him to squeeze through.
When he found an opening, he began to shimmy forward into it. Tickle quite enjoyed the ride in the meantime, his fear quickly forgotten as the bins began to obscure them from potential human sight; he waved his hooves and chirped as Carrot lumbered from side to side and jiggled around to cram himself into the space.
Eventually, they reached the entrance to the nest, and after he had finished laughing in joy at his short ride, Tickle indicated for his steed to stop, “dis am nestie hewe, Cawwot!”
Carrot leant over to allow Tickle to climb off, who did so by wriggling his way down through Carrot’s fluff while gripping some of it with his mouth for stability. His movements tickled Carrot, who giggled with delight at the sensation.
Once he was on the ground, Tickle ran up the little dirt slope and passed through the gap in the wooden pallet and into the shade beyond.
Carrot, meanwhile, examined the nest’s outside.
It was certainly unlike his housie- for a start, it didn’t even have a door. It was also rather dirty and it didn’t look very warm. Taking a big sniff, he detected… poopies, trash, Tickle, and a mare- likely Tickle’s Mummah, he thought. She smelled to him like when his Daddeh cut the grass in the garden, or maybe like those hard nut things that he ate at Chwismas.
Tickle returned after a minute, popping his head out, “Mummah say dat Cawwot can be fwend!” he declared, beckoning Carrot to enter.
Fluffies are pretty terrible at size analysis, so neither of them realized that Carrot was far too large to enter; he ended up just barely pushing his face in, with his cheeks puckered together against the wood.
“Hewwo Tickwe’s Mummah!” he called into the nest as his eyes adjusted to the dim light within where he could make out Oddment’s bloated shape. Though she was lying on the ground, she had propped her upper body up with her forehooves at attention- just in case.
“Hewwo Cawwot,” Oddment replied, “fankoo fo’ be nicie to widdwe Tickwe,”
“Cawwot wub babbeh-fwend Tickwe! Whud am yu namsie?”
“Am Oddment,”
“Hmmmm,” Carrot hummed to himself. Yes, he quite liked that name, it was different to the other few Fluffies he had met at some of Daddeh’s neighbor’s houses: Rufus, Dandelion, Ralphie, Drummer… “Oddmen’ am gud namsie!” The mare seemed to relax at little at this point, and let her hooves down, “dis am yu housie?”
“Yuss. Hab tuu maek nestie hewe fow hab nummies fwom binnie-fwends,”
Tickle piqued in, “Siwwy Hoomins weabe tasty nummies!”
Carrot wasn’t so sure that was entirely true. Bins were where Daddeh put twashies, not nummies! Ah, but then again, he did sometimes smell nice- even tasty- scents coming from the bins…
Oddment spoke back up before he got too far into thought, “Oddmen’ hab Tummeh Babbehs soon, an’ wan hab mowe nummies fow miwkies. Tickwe am onwy widdwe babbeh, suuuu~ maybe Cawwot du hewpsies?”