The first thing the foal felt as they were pushed out of their mother was the warmth of her Fluff beside them, instinctively they tried to move their pathetic little body closer to her.
The second thing the foal felt was a hard, calloused hand picking them up and taking them away from their mother’s warmth. The foal shook and chirped from the cold and from fear.
‘Peep peep, chirp’
Blind and scared, the foal could only hear the voices, two of them, both loud and deep. Somewhere in the back of their mind they recognised these as humans, and humans were the best thing ever. So why were these two scaring them so much?
The foal couldn’t keep up with the conversation between the two men, but they picked up on a few words.
“…looks healthy… decent wings… pink colour though…can’t sell him like that…castrate him.”
The foal felt something move between their legs, then a sharp ‘shink’ noise followed by the worst pain in the foal’s few minutes of life, blindly they panicked, shaking their limbs, crying desperately for their mother.
Something cold and wet with slathered onto its fresh wound and the hard hand put the foal back with its mother, the traumatised little creature felt that familiar warmth and grabbed on for dear life, crying into its mothers Fluff.
“Wai babbeh hab boo-boo juice?”
“There was a problem with the birth, we’ve fixed it now. Make sure she’s safe and help her if she has any troubles.”
“Ok Mistah Vin-ee, Sah-fiwe wook afta wittew fiwwy.”
The mother gently took the sobbing foal away from her chest and placed them on her teat, the hot, sweet scent of Mummah’s Milk took over the foals pain and they latched on greedily suckling down all they could, hoping for the pain to disappear. After a few moments, the ache between their legs started to vanish until eventually, the foal forgot all about it.
The foal was older now, they could run and play and talk with their brothers and sister. They sometimes still hurt between their legs if they moved too much, but for the most part they hadn’t paid any mind to what happened to them.
They were a little sad, a man called ‘Mistah Gus’ came by every so often to check the foal since he was what was called ‘a vet’. Mistah Gus had explained to the foal that due to an accident in mummah’s tummeh, their special-place hadn’t come out right. It would sadly mean that the foal would never be a mummah themselves, but they could still have a special-friend if he was careful and there was always babbehs in need of caring mummah.
After a few delicate surgeries to help the foal make good pee-pees, Mistah Gus let them back in with their siblings to play. They all gave them huggies to make them feel better, the foal was saddened that they wouldn’t have any babbehs, but there was something else on their mind, the thought of being a mummah didn’t sit right with the foal, they wanted to have babbehs of its own one day sure, but the mummah part didn’t feel right, nor did the idea of letting a stallion put his nu-nu stick inside them.
And yet, the foal had no reason to think like this, they were clearly a filly since they had a soft pink Fluff colour – to the point where their mother had started calling them ‘pinkie babbeh’ - and the beginnings of a light yellow mane, they didn’t have any nu-nu stick or special-lumps and from what their siblings had said, they didn’t smell like a boy.
Of course they didn’t smell like a girl either, the foal didn’t feel like it fit into either camp, everytime their mother chastised them for roughhousing with their brothers they would feel embarrassed that it came so naturally to them. Every time they got a bop on the head for not joining in the mummah song they would wonder why they couldn’t relate to the lyrics as much.
Not that their mother was a meanie, Sapphire loved all her foals and paid special attention to the foal due to their injury at birth, but their mother was a veteran of Vincent Harkness, a Fluffy breeder who demanded the best from his mares. Pinkie Babbeh might not have any foals of their own, but they could still be a mummah, and Sapphire knew what happened to bad mummahs.
Sapphire had had a number of litters for Mistah Vinny, she was sad to see them leave but she knew they were going to good and loving homes, Mistah Vinny said so, and he wouldn’t lie to her. Because of this, she was able to tell was something wasn’t right, and after a week of feeding, Sapphire could tell that Pinkie Babbeh wasn’t bulking up like their siblings.
“Mistah Vin-ee, Pinkie Babbeh am stiww wittew babbeh, by Sah-fiwe gib aww babbehs same miwkies, yu see hew du it.”
Vincent looked down, sure enough while the other foals were starting to show signs of muscle build-up in the colts and widening hips in the fillies, Pinkie Babbeh was still quite small and slender. Vincent picked the foal up to examine them, noticing they froze up at his touch, and looked them over. It was as he expected, without any testicles to pump the correct hormones into their blood, the foal was turning out a little more androgenous, not perfect but nothing he and Gus couldn’t work out.
“She’s fine Sapphire, just a little slower than her siblings. Keep feeding her and she’ll be alright.”
“Ok, fank yu Mistah Vin-ee.”
Sapphire took her foal back and placed them on a teat, Vincent scratched and her and left her to her mothering before taking out his phone and texting Gus.
‘Ready hormone therapy for the pink colt, time to push his biology where we want it to go.’
Back in the pen, the pink foal absentmindedly sucked on their mother’s teat, their young brain struggling to understand what they were feeling.
Mistah Vinny’s hands felt just as hard and calloused as the hands that picked them when they were born. When Mistah Vinny touch them, they could hear that sharp ‘shink’ sound in their head, they could feel the ache between their legs.
The only question was, why were they feeling anything if there was never anything there to feel?
