I’m one of the only city workers who smokes on the job. My official title is “fluffy community disruptor,” and I convinced my bosses that cigarette smoke makes fluffies miscarry. It doesn’t, but it helps drown out the shit smell in their dens and crossroads.
Yeah, they have crossroads. That’s where I am today. There’s a freshwater pond in a really convenient spot for them, and I’ve been tracking a herd in the area. This is where at least three quarters of them cut through to avoid the parking lot. So, I’ve set up just north of there, basically around a bush. But to a fluffy, I’m basically in a duck blind.
I see six mummahs approaching, each with multiple foals on their back AND following on the ground. I retrieve my friend, a shivering piss soaked foal with my thumb in his mouth to keep him from screaming. I get real close to his face.
“If you warn them, I’m going to make you eat yourself.” His eyes assured me he understood. I unplug him.
“Hewp! Hewp! Huuuhuuuuuuu babbeh stuck! Wai nubuddy hewp babbeh?” Good. I peer through the brush and confirm. The pink mare with the two back babbehs and one very rambunctious unicorn colt was breaking off. “Babbeh? Babbeh nee hewp? Nee mummah? Fwuffy am mummah! Fwuffy hewp!” She started trotting faster as she heard his cries intensify from the pressure I was putting on his belly. He’s like a little balloon that screams. Her brave babbeh takes notice. “Mummah! Wittwe babbeh sown wike haf big huwties! Mummah gunna hewp?”
The mare rounds the corner and I move quickly. I slide my snare around her neck and pull it tight to stop her calling for help. The colt will present more trouble, so I bring my heel down on his skull hard and it shuts him up. The herd keeps moving. Good. Means they expect her to catch up on her own. Some herds are careful not to let anyone know where anything is, tuffies have to lead clusters around or they get lost. Means I can get something out of the mare.
I wait like ten minutes and the herd moves on. I release the mare’s windpipe. She’d almost passed out, she could just barely breathe. Her big babbeh had started…trying to talk? I don’t know, his skull was being less than cooperative, and she was trying to scream. Think I fucked up her voicebox. She could only do like a weird hushed hiss talking, but it clearly took as much effort as screaming.
“Huuuu babbeh huuuuuwt! Wai babbeh face wook wike daaaaaat? Nuuuuuuuuu…” She’s not taking it well. I pluck her two foals off her back and drag her to me. “Okay. I’m gonna ask you a question. If you help me, your foals will be fine. If you don’t, I will force feed one to you and ask again. If you still don’t, I’ll feed you the other.”
“Nu huwt babbehs! Pweez! Mummah onwy wan babbehs be otay, nu wan munstah huwt!”
“Right, sure, whatever. So tell me: Where does your herd keep their nummies?” She looks afraid. She knows, but her smarty must have told her the dire consequences for revealing it to outsiders. “P…pwease, nu. Anyfing bu dat…”
“Well, that wasn’t helpful.” I drop the fat yellow baby who crysqueals his way to the ground where he lands with a sort of beep. I grab her by the jaw. She tries to resist, but I’ve learned not to give second chances. You tell a fluffy “don’t do this or I’ll hit you” and they do it, you have to hit them. If you let them off with a warning they think they’ll always get one. She answered with something that wasn’t helpful. Now she’s going to eat her tiny wingy babbeh. The babbeh doesn’t like this any more than mummah does. “Nuuuu! Babbeh nu am nummies! Nu wan! Nu wan! Pwease mummah, nu wan be nummie babbeh! Nu wan be miwkies fow bwudda!” She has more to say, but her mother will need ears in her belly because I shove the filly to the back of her throat and force her jaw shut. She sobs and smacks me with her hooves and shits and pisses and tries in vain to scream. I hold her mouth for probably a full five minutes. Whole time, I can feel rhythmic thumps from her snout. “Hey, sounds like your little girl’s still in there. I need you to swallow now.” She’s kicking and thrashing and it quickly wears her out. She looks at me for mercy with those big sad eyes. I roll my eyes and pop her in the nose with my off hand. It swells and starts bleeding. No good. Need it plugged.
I grab the still writhing mess that is her eldest and it…screams? I guess? It tries to, anyway. I yank out a handful of really thick fluff from his scalp, then shove some in each nostril. Before long, there’s blood flowing down into the back of her throat. The thumping becomes more frantic and frenzied, but to no avail. Her mother’s irresistable swallowing reflex kicks in and the thumping stops. I see a lump in her throat and I reach over to massage it with my off hand. “Easy girl, I know it’s a lot. Most mummahs have the decency to kill their babbehs before they eat them, but you didn’t cooperate.” I release her snout and her thrashing, suddenly freed of restraint, brings her tumbling to the dirt. She spits out a mouthful of snot and blood. “Whewe babbeh? Whewe babbeh? Mummah nu see babbeh!” She’s pawing through the gross mud she’s created when she stops. She looks at nothing for a moment. Then she collapses in a heap. “Nuuuuuuu huhuhuhuhuuu…” She starts sobbing, legs sprawled out in defeat. “Mummah nu wan babbeh be tummeh babbeh nu mowe… Pwease babbeh, gu sweepies… Mummah nu wan feew babbeh twyin wun way…”
I sit there watching. She’s not even asking about her remaining foal, who’s crying himself hoarse. She sits there for an hour, occasionally peppering in some hilarious new detail. "Nuuu! Mummah feew babbeh cwyin! Mummah knu wat babbeh cwyin’ on tummeh fwuff feew wike, an nao feew dat bu’ in tummeh huhuhuhuuuuu…"
Eventually, she stops. I wait a bit and summon her.
“Fluffy. Come here. Now.” To my shock, she does. The spark is out of her eye. She’s been pushed too far. She broke. “Fwuffy wiww show hoomin wewe nummies awe. Hoomin can hab aww da nummies fow make miwkies fo ou babbehs. Nu nummies fow fwuffies nu mowe…” I chuckle. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I hold up her foal. “Babbeh looks hungry.” I plop him down in front of her. He’s peeping and crying. “Mummah! Nee miwkies! Wewe sissy? Babbeh nee miwkies an sissy!”
I look at her and she looks at me. “Go ahead. Wouldn’t want all those nummies you had going to waste.”
“Give him his sister back.”