Author's notes
I have been going through some of my old WIPs, shit I started but didn’t have the drive to finish. I don’t really remember what this was for but I think I saw someone ask something about a forever foal vs SBS. Something about an already annoying and child-like creature being specifically trained to be even more abnormally infantile just pisses me the fuck off.
I think this was supposed to be a chaptered story? I don’t know what my vague ass notes were trying to tell me. My health is not doing the greatest and my memory fails me. There might be more of me returning to my abandoned half ideas, who knows.
Anyway this is my preferred example of a forever foal and this is my preferred example of SBS if there’s any confusion as to what those are.
You have a fluffy, and you love her very much. You raised her from a tiny little purple foal found in a parking lot and she’s been the perfect companion for you.
Until recently.
Something finally connected in that tiny brain of hers and your precious Amethyst felt the need to reproduce. Babies were all you heard about, day in and day out.
Every morning: “Ameethyst hab’ babbehs dis bwite time??”
As you left for work: “If Ameethyst be guud den hab babbehs??”
When you got home: “Was bestest fwuffy, be bestest mummah!”
When she got dinner: “Ameethyst nebah ask fo’ nuffin’ if hab babbehs! Nu fo’ sketties ow toysies! Pwease!”
When you put her to bed: “Hab babbehs next bwite time?”
You tried to explain to her so many times; there were far too many fluffies without a home in the world, if you could afford more fluffies you would have adopted more. You had a tight budget, you weren’t exactly well off but you made enough to be comfortable if you planned carefully. More colorful mouths to feed was not part of the plan.
Eventually you had to punish her over it. It pained you to do, but she intentionally shat in your shoes. She tried to use it as a bargaining chip, but with ample use of the sorry stick you taught her you didn’t negotiate with terrorists.
After she ran to her bed with a sore rump, sobbing into her blankets, you made a trip to Fluff-Mart. This was such a common problem, you were sure capitalism had tried to solve it.
“Oh yeah, that’s super common.” The teenage cashier had said. “We have stuff for it down on aisle twelve.”
She stepped out from behind the counter and lead you to the aptly named “Mare Care” aisle.
“So you have a few options.” She crouched down and started searching the shelf. “You can try puberty blockers if the behavior just started. Sometimes you can cut that off before it sets in, you know?” She handed you a dark green bottle of pills with a label depicting young fluffies frolicking in a grassy field. “But if you didn’t catch it early enough it won’t work. And even if it does you’ll have to keep giving these to her basically forever, and if you skip a dose it could be over.”
Hormone therapy seemed a little… extreme. Especially with how long you waited to ask for help. If you had known she would be this bad a month ago… well maybe.
“The other option we have here,” she paused to check the prices on two white boxes on the shelf above her head, “is fake foals. They’re pricey, but cheaper than medications forever. The downside is that mares often can tell they’re fake. Something uncanny valley about them. you can get more expensive ones, but they’re really not much better. Oh, and they eat batteries like crazy.”
She stood, holding out the smaller of the two boxes. It was adorned with a glossy picture of a mother fluffy smiling at her very real foals. Next to it was a plastic window showing a glassy eyed foal frozen in a “gib huggies” position. Yikes.
“… Is that it?” You asked, looking between the items.
“Just for what I can get you today. If you’re willing to spend a bit and can wait for it to arrive, there’s SBS foals available on our website sometimes.”
“SBS?”
“Sensitive baby syndrome. It’s a somewhat rare neurological condition that makes it so foals don’t develop properly. They need round the clock care which is a pain for a human but mares tend to love them.”
“Ugh… I’m doing this because I can’t afford another fluffy right now…” you trailed off, looking up at the various products in medical-ish packaging. “I’d love to breed her, but growing foals would put a pretty big dent in my grocery budget.”
“She designer?”
“No, I found her feral as a foal. She’s solid color though, I heard that was rare.”
“Like a perfect match? Not just close?”
“Yeah, here.” You set the pills down and pulled up a picture of Amethyst on your phone. “That perfect?”
The cashier whistled. “I’d say so. There’s a gene that causes it, it can carry into the foals.”
“Hm. Maybe I just give in to her then.” You’d seen the prices of solid colored foals online when you checked to see if anyone had lost Amethyst. The lowest you saw was $400 for a still blind feral foal. With papers or at least confirmation of good genetics they could go for four figures easily.
“You might just teach her that begging works. If I were you I’d get her gene tested.” She grabbed a small packet of the shelf and handed it to you. “You wiped the inside of her cheek with a swab and pop it in the mail. In 3-4 weeks you’ll have a readout with what her foals could look like. Then if the results are good you can use the gene banks they’ll recommend you and have perfect foals.”
You chewed your lip for a moment, thinking. It would be nice to make a better informed decision. But that didn’t solve your problem, did it? You would have to listen to her whine for at least three weeks at best, at worst she had crap for genes and you’d have to come up with another solution.
“What do I do while I wait for the results then?”
“Either the robo-foals or the SBS. There’s advice in one of our rearing guides-” She pointed to a pale blue book spine sticking off the shelf
“-that recommends telling the mare that the stork wants to test her before she can have foals of her own. She may still be freaked out by the robot foals though, so I still recommend looking online for an SBS. They grow very slow, and between you and me, they don’t really need any of the supplements and things they try to sell you here.”
You thanked the cashier for her help and went home. After making yourself and your fluffy dinner (ignoring the day’s many requests for babies) you hopped onto your laptop to purchase your solution.
… What was it called again? Your fingers hovered over the keys, waiting to type into the Fluff-mart.com search bar. It was… something baby syndrome. You tried “forever baby syndrome” and the site auto completed that to just “forever foals”. You clicked search and let the page load.
FOREVERFOALS!
ForeverFoals™ are the best thing since canned foals! Not only do these sweet bundles of sunshine stay tiny and adorable for their entire life, they are immune to most hormone related misbehaviors common with your standard fluffy! Purchase today and receive 40% off mare lactation inducers and a free trial pack of diapers!
[ForeverFoals™ biotoys must ingest ForeverSmall™ supplements as directed for optimum health. BioGrift is not responsible for biotoy termination relating to improper care of the biotoy.]
That must be it. Forever foal. You scrolled past the fine print at the bottom, looking over the available options. Each one of them was adorned with either a blue or pink diaper to signify their gender. Underneath each picture was a product number and a time frame. Some of the nicer looking ones must be preorders, as they had ship times of up to a year! You shook your head, searching for the soonest date.
Near the bottom a neon blue and muddy orange colt would ship in two days, and was 25% off! You quickly added him to the cart, ignoring the ads for suppliments and diapers. If it needed to shit you’d make Amethyst take care of it, and you were not about to spend more on it than you had to.
Four days later you arrived home to a small box on your doorstep. The holes in the side let you know what it was, and you handled it carefully as you brought it inside.
“DADDEH!! HI!! AMEETHYST MISS YUU!” Your fluffy scampered across the room to greet you.
“Hi sweetie! I have some good news for you!”
“GUUD?! GUUD AS BABBEHS?!?!” She squealed, pawing at your leg with her hooves.
“You’ll see! Go sit next to the table like a good girl and I’ll be right in to tell you.”
She ran into the living room, bucking with joy. You quickly took your shoes and jacket off then set the box on the hall table and peeled up the tape.
Under a layer of tissue paper, the bright blue foal blinked in the light. “… Hewwo…” he mumbled.
God, he was uglier in real life. Such a bright color paired with such a dull orange made his mane permanently look dirty. “Hi little guy! Are you ready to meet your mummah?”
“Nyu mummah?! Wub nyu mummah!” The foal chirped.
“Alright, wait right here and be quiet!” You set the box on the floor and went in to talk to your fluffy.
“Daddeh, am it babbehs? Can Ameethyst hab’ babbehs??” She sat exactly where you asked her to, hooves tapping excitedly as you sat down across from her.
“So I talked to the stork,” you started, “the one that gives out fluffy babies.”
“Oh!” Amethyst said, clearly trying to sound like she knew this information and it wasn’t her first time hearing of the concept.
“Yep. He said he wasn’t sure if you could handle being a mummah.”
“Buh… Ameethyst be bestest mummah!”
You held your hands up. “Hey, that’s what I said. We went back and forth about it, and he said if you could prove you were a good mummah he would let you have babies.”
“AMEETHYST GET TO HAB BABBEHS! YUS YUS YUS!!” She twirled in place, then froze. “Buh… how be guud mummah wif’ nu babbehs?”
“Hmm… that is a problem. Here, let me give him a call.”
You pulled your phone out, pressing it to your ear without dialing. After a moments pause, you spoke.
“Hi, is this the stork? Yes, its me again. Yeah, hi, how is she supposed to be a good mummah with no babies again?”
You watched Amethyst shuffle anxiously as you pretended to listen.
“Mh-hm… uh-huh… oh you left it in the hallway?”
Amethyst turned and ran, not waiting for further info. You put the phone down as she screeched with joy.
“BABBEH!! MUMMAH WUB BABBEH!!”
And so you helped the new “mother” settle in. You took the foal’s diaper and gave him a quick wash, despite his protests. When giving him back to Amethyst you explained the rules to her.
First, she had to take full care of the foal. You would not be playing with, or caring for him in any way other than the occasional bath. You would wash their blankets on their usual schedule, if he made a mess she would need to clean it up.
Second, you didn’t want him to leave the safe room. She could, and you would leave the door open for her like usual, but there would be no babies shitting on his rug.
Third, she needed to let you stick the stork’s magic wand in her mouth. You realized how gross that wording was the second you said it, and told her that the stork needed to use some magic on her so he would be able to know if she was a good mummah. After she spat the “magic wand” out, you added that this was a secret she shouldn’t tell anyone, which didn’t make your wording sound any better but hopefully would keep her from telling anyone.
“Ameethyst be bestest mummah!” She said, hugging the foal to her chest.
“Uhmm… babbeh hab back diapew nao?” The foal asked, his voice muffled in her fluff.
“Diaper babies are for the worst mummahs, ones that can’t take their babies to the litterbox.” It seemed a little odd of a request, fluffies usually hated diapers. Maybe it was something the company trained into them, though.
“Nu hab diapew babbeh! Hab guud babbeh, am bestest mummah!” Amethyst shouted, hugging the foal even tighter. “Ameethyst be bestest mummah ebah!”
The foal took a little time to settle in, which made sense after looking up the condition. Sensitive Babies (which seemed to be called multiple things depending on who you asked) were somewhat mentally impaired, which made sense. Your foal, however, must have been something special. Other than some obsessive behaviors and minor tantrums he seemed sharp as a pin. He could carry full conversations, ask for things he needed, and say please and thank you without reminders. He often demanded to be put in a diaper, which led to a few messes Amethyst had to clean up, and would get distressed any time she left the room without him. When she got frustrated with him, you reminded her of the deal she made with the stork.
“Ameethyst be guud mummah! Promise!”
And all in all, she was. She fed him the bottled formula you prepared for her, sang mummah songs for him, hell, she even cleaned up his protest shits after you said no to the diaper once again.
“Uhmm, Mistah Daddeh?” The foal asked you as you sat on the floor playing with them?
“Yeah bud?”
“Babbeh nu hab meddy-sin nummies in wong tiem, whewe am?”
“Oh,” you remembered the words of the shopkeeper. “You don’t need any of those, the formula I got you is more than enough.”
“Nu, babbeh nee’ meddy-sin nummies ow nu am guud babbeh.” he protested.
“Nuuuuuu!” Amethyst wailed, rushing over to the forever foal. “Nu awgue wife Daddeh! Bad babbeh!!”
“Buh NEE’ meddy-sin nummies!” The foal squealed as Amethyst dragged him off towards the bed. You shook your head and smiled, she was proving to be very helpful with the bratty foal.
You heard your phone buzz from the other room. “Good job, Amie! You’re such a good mother.” She smiled and snuggled the struggling foal closer to her chest.
Checking your phone you saw you had an email from the genetic company, and your eyebrows rose as you read it over. Your ex-feral fluffy not only carried a gene that would pass on her single coloration, but had at least one alicorn parent! The readout recommended a few studs, one that would all but guarantee an alicorn in every litter!
Dollar signs swam in your vision. Your job had just offered you a work from home position in lieu of a raise, and you had told them you’d think it over. It was less work for the same pay and would leave you at home all day to help her care for the litter. She had been so good with this foal over the last few weeks, if she treated her own foals half as good you’d have a tidy little side hustle.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a screech from the safe room.
Rushing in you saw the forever foal writhing on the ground holding its leg while Amethyst sobbed in her bed. “What happened?!”
“AM WOWSTEST MUMMAH!” Amethyst wailed. “NU MEAN HUWT BABBEH! NU WAN! SOWWY BABBEH! SOWWY STOWK!!”
You set your hand on her as you knelt down to the foal. “It’s okay honey, you’re okay. What happened?!”
“Nu knu!!” Amethyst wailed as the foal screeched. “Just twying gib babbeh huggies, den babbeh hab owwies!!”
You chewed your lip, looking at the foal on the ground. Something was obviously wrong with his front hoof, it flopped loosely as he flailed around on the floor. You really didn’t want to spend money on what was supposed to be a solution to an expensive problem but… you couldn’t just leave him in pain.
“I’ll take him to the vet. You stay here Amethyst, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” You said, scooping the screaming foal into your hands. You could immediately feel the warm sensation of the foal pissing in distress.
“Otay Daddeh… am so sowwy!” Amethyst sniffled.
“It’s not your fault, honey. These things happen.” You grabbed one of the diapers that came with the foal, feeling very happy with your past self for keeping him.
You slid him out of your palm as gently as you could on to the hall table, he screeched once as he landed and started sobbing much more quietly. You ripped the packaging off the diaper, rolling him gently onto it and then frowning.
You hadn’t really given the foal a good look since you got him, why would you? Amethyst was taking care of him, and you found him to be ugly as hell. Such garish colors. He was always a somewhat dirty looking neon blue spot on Amethyst’s side. So you did not notice how weirdly large his little fluffy nuts were. You didn’t remember them being so out of proportion when you gave him that first bath. And while you were looking him over, his hind legs look weirdly bowed. They didn’t extend quite straight from the joint, same for the front hoof he was frantically sucking. You shook your head, remembering that the creature was suffering. You didn’t have time to slowly inspect him. You struggled with the diaper for a moment, unable to get the side flaps to attach around his belly, before giving up and just wrapping him in a washcloth and sticking him in the cupholder. You quickly typed the name of Amethyst’s vet into your phone while you started the car. Hopefully they’d be able to do something for him.
“So, this was sold to you as a SBS foal?” The vet said, with the now sedated foal resting between you.
“…Is he not? He always seemed pretty smart but…” you trailed off, looking at the fat foal on the table. “He sure looked like one.”
The vet sighed, shaking his head. “No, this is a ForeverFoal. You’re not the first to get sold one of these as a sensitive baby.”
“Are… they not the same thing?” You shuffled your feet.
“Nope.” He shuffled some papers on the desk behind him, pulling out a small chart. “This here is a sensitive baby.” He pointed to a foal with it’s eyes still closed, stubby legs almost fully enveloped by rolls of fat covered by downy fluff. “See the lack of fluff, the tiny legs? That’s sensitive baby syndrome, the foal never moves past the chirpy stage. This-” he pointed at the foal whimpering on the table in front of you “- is a properly developed fluffy that’s been chemically stunted.”
You put your head in your hands. “He talked about the medicine, I was told by a gal at Fluffmart that they don’t need any of those supplements.”
“They do, quite badly. Otherwise their bodies start to grow at what should be a normal rate.” He lifted one of the foal’s hind legs with his pen. “His joints aren’t growing at the same rate as the rest of him, something that would have been prevented with the growth suppressants. I bet you he knocked his shoulder out of the socket earlier today.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
The vet put his hands on his hips, looking down at the dazed foal. “Sadly, not really. If you started him on the suppressants now he would just be stuck like this. Anything to kickstart his growth would just make all this progress faster. I think your best bet is to put him down.”
You looked down on the small foal, his eyes slowly focusing on you. “That’s… a shame.”
“Yeah, I bet this boy cost a pretty penny.”
“Yeah, he was on discount. How much will the euthanasia cost?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “This clinic is funded by Fluff-Mart, so we’ll just take care of it. Least we can do after all the trouble we caused you.”
“Oh, that’s so kind. I’ll still have to explain this to my home fluffy…” you trailed off hopefully.
The vet laughed. “Yeah, nice try, but that’s all I can give you.”
“Damnit.”
“Can’t say I envy you though, let me get you a bag of fluffy treats on our way out though.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder, turning you towards the door. “I’m sure some sketti treats will smooth things over just fine.”
The vet led you out the door and waved as you pulled out of the parking lot. Once you’d turned the corner, he ducked back inside and quickly pulled up a contact on his phone.
“Hey, Danny?.. Yeah, I found another one, alive this time… No, really. Owner caught it early this time, should give you some better research… my usual rate
… Yeah, I can drop it off tonight if you want.”
“DADDEHHHHHHH!!” Amethyst wailed as you opened the door.
“Hang on honey, hang on!” You kicked your shoes off and made your way over to the safe room.
“Am babbeh otay?!” She yelled through the safe room door as you opened it.
“The baby is just fine. He’s back with the stork now.”
“NUUUUUUUUU!!! AMEETHYST AM BAD MUMMAH!!”
“Hold on! Hold on!” You sat down to let her leap into your lap. “I talked to the stork and he said this was part of the test!”
“…Huuuuh?” she sniffled.
“See he had to be sure you would be a good mummah to ALL your babies, even if they weren’t perfect. He gave you an ugly baby to see if you would love them no matter what they looked like.”
“Buh… babbeh am pwetty babbeh…” she said softly into your arm.
“He didn’t have the prettiest color combination, did he?”
Amethyst shook her head slowly.
“It’s okay, you’re not in trouble for being honest. So he was an ugly baby, and then he was a bad babbeh.”
“Babbeh… babbeh did du shouties and bad poopies…”
“And you handled it perfectly. You taught him how to be a good fluffy!”
“Amee… du guud?” She looked up at you with tear filled violet eyes.
“Yes, you were a very good mummah. Especially when he was a sicky baby. You took very good care of him and got help, which is exactly what you should do.”
“Den… du Ameethyst get tu be mummah?”
“Yes, you do.”
“YUS YUS YUS YUS YUS!!!” She leapt to her hooves, bucking with excitement. AMEETHYST BE BESTEST MUMMAH TO BESTEST BABBEHS!!!”
You hurt.
It’s all you know.
Every second of every day, all you experience is pain. No other sense can break through the blanket of agony wrapped around you. All around you are tubes and wires, things that beep and click and wheeze.
You cannot move without your joints and organs exploding into white hot pain.
Your eyes ache with every blink, so you keep them closed.
You don’t know where you are.
You don’t know where your mummah is.
You hurt.
Your only interaction is when the meanie man comes in. He pokes you with things, puts new tubes and wires in, scribbles on papers, then leaves.
Once you’re properly alone you do the only thing you can. The only thing you have done for so many forevers.
“… Daddeh…” you rasp. “Mummah…. Hewp … babbeh……”
All it does is hurt your throat.