You’re Fwowa, a pretty white fluffy mare with yellow mane and tail. You’re happy because you’re a soon-mumma. You’re also sad because your sissie, Skybaww, a yellow mare with white man and tail, was a mummah until very recently; her special friend died (along with two toughies) fighting off a bawkie-munsta that had attacked the herd. Unfortunately, they didn’t fight it off until it had already attacked and eaten all three of Skybaww’s babies. She still has very bad heart hurties and her miwkie pwaces are sore with no babies drinking her miwkies; you have heart hurties for her too, but… being a soon-mummah makes you so happy!
Your sissie has been a wonderful helper and rolly-friend, helping you get around, make good poopies, and bringing you nummies. Your special friend left the herd after he gave you special huggies and you haven’t seen him since. If Skybaww still had her babies, she would be too busy with them to help you. So you’re glad she can help, but at the same time you always feel sad every time you remember why she can help you.
Skybaww moved into your den after her special friend and babies got forever sleepies; she gave her old den to a filly and her special friend who wanted babies of their own. This is a good place; until the bawkie-munsta came, it was safe, and there are plentiful nummies.
Oh-oh! You feel like you need to make biiiiig poopies!
“Sissie! Big poopies! Babbehs cummin?”
“Babbehs cummin!” she confirms.
It takes a long time, but finally your first baby comes out. Skybaww brings it around to you and you start licking it clean. It’s a good baby. It starts chirping and you tell it how much you love it. Then you have to put the baby down, because you have hurties and big poopies again.
Skybaww brings you another baby to clean. You lick it clean and gently set it next to the first baby, cooing softly to both of them. They’re chirping and wiggling their heads around blindly, trying to find you. They shiver with cold. Poor babies, mummah will be able to hold you soon- oooooh!
Skybaww hands you a third baby and you quickly lick it clean and set it down, already feeling the next one coming. Skybaww hands you a fourth baby and you lick it- EUGH!
What’s wrong with this baby?! You sniff it and it reeks! This is a bad baby! You toss it aside without cleaning it and it chirps weakly, barely moving. You have tummy owies again and Skybaww gives you a fourth baby; you don’t count the bad baby, and you can’t count past four anyway. You lick the baby clean, feel big poopies again, but not as bad, and Skybaww gives you something that smells and tastes yicky, but you have an overwhelming impulse to gobble it down.
Cooing to your babies, you move the first two to your miwkie pwaces since they’ve been waiting the longest and wince as they start suckling desperately, then hug your other two babies to your chestie and snuggle them into your fluff where they chirp and move their heads around blindly. Silly babies, you’ll get miwkies soon!
Skybaww nudges the bad baby toward you with her hoofsie.
“Why nu cwean dis babbeh?”
You look at her like she’s a dummy; isn’t it obvious?
“Dat bad babbeh! Dummeh babbeh! Nu wan!”
She seems scandalized.
“Nu wan babbeh?!”
“Nu! Bad babbeh! Nu wan!” Then you lean closer to the bad baby and shout at it. “GU WAY, DUMMEH BABBEH! YU BAD BABBEH! NU MIWKIES OW WUV FOW YOO!”
Skybaww breaks down crying and you look at her in surprise; is she hurt?
“Why nu wan babbeh?”
Is… is she stupid?
“Is dummeh babbeh! Smeww bad! Nu smeww wike gud babbeh. Bad babbeh dwink miwkies dat gud babbehs cud be dwinkin; gud babbehs nee miwkies tu gwow up big an stwong. Bad babbeh take miwkies fwum gud babbehs!”
Skybaww sniffs the bad baby and wrinkles her nosie, but then she shocks you by licking the baby clean! What is she doing? It’s a bad baby! Take it away or give it forever sleepies so it doesn’t steal miwkies and hurt your good babies!
Then you’re absolutely scandalized when your sissie places the bad baby on her miwkie pwace and starts giving it miwkies! What is she doing?! It’s going to steal miwkies from her good babies and they’ll have tummeh owies and won’t grow up big and strong!
Oh. Wait. She doesn’t have babies anymore. Her miwkie pwaces are sore because she has no babies drinking miwkies. She must just be using the bad babbeh to make her miwkie pwaces feel better.
Wait wait wait- is she singing the mummah song to the bad babbeh?!
“Sissie! Why sing tu bad babbeh?!”
She sniffles and curls herself around the bad baby while it steals her miwkies.
“Nu is bad babbeh. Skybaww wan be mummah agin. Yu nu wan dis babbeh?”
You stare at her in confusion for a long moment.
“Nu! Nu wan babbeh! Bad, dummeh babbeh!”
“Den Skybaww keep babbeh! Be mummah agin!”
She… wants to KEEP a dummy baby? Your mind boggles.
But… you guess it won’t harm anything. It’s a dummy baby; it probably won’t live long, because it’s so dummy. And she has no good babies to give miwkies to, so it doesn’t matter if the dummy baby steals her miwkies.
And you know how bad she has heart hurties after losing her babies and special friend. Maybe taking care of a dummy baby until it takes forever sleepies will be good for her. After careful consideration…
“Skybaww keep babbeh! Fwowa dun mind! Nu wan babbeh! Is sissie babbeh nao!”
“Fank yoo, sissie! Skybaww be gud mumma tu widdwe babbeh!”
You note with distaste that the bad baby, whose chirps and movement had been weaker than your good babies, is now wasting miwkies by spitting it up. If that had been your miwkies, it would be depriving your good babies of all the miwkies it was spitting up and drinking.
That thought sends a chill down your spine and you ruffle your fluff in response. What if the bad baby tries to steal miwkies from your good babies?
“Fwowa dun wan shawe safe pwace wif dummeh babbeh; dummeh babbeh mebbe steaw miwkies fwom gud babbehs.”
Skybaww nods, only half paying attention, and coos lovingly to the dummy baby.
Later that day, she kicked the young couple out and moved back into her old den with the bad baby; they huuhuued, but they didn’t want to be near the bad baby either, so they hurried away and began digging their own den.
You cuddle up in a fluff pile with your new babies and sigh contentedly; this is the happiest day of your life.
And if taking care of some dummy baby makes your sissie happy, at least until it inevitably takes forever sleepies, well, so much the better. At least you’re rid of it.