Lovesick - Part 4 - By Spaghetti Dave

Lovesick - part 4

“I’m concerned about her weight.” Dr Cheryl stated bluntly. “And this recent shedding. I think we should keep her for a few days for observation.”

Sammy tapped her finger on the desk. “I already know what it is. Mocha wants babies. I told her no, and now she’s acting like 'Tuffy is a foal.” The usual Sammy wasn’t all giggles today. She pulled up a copy of the webcam footage.

Cheryl watched Mocha sing ‘mummah songs’ to the one armed stuffed bear, followed by the fake nursing, and eventually grab onto the stuffed animal. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Who thought it was a good idea to make intelligent talking animals?”

“People who make more money than we could imagine, I guess. But, you said this would be her last shot, right? So in three weeks she should be good enough to be fixed, and that’s what we’ll do. I got this. Dr Clark,” Sammy put her hand on Cheryl’s, “I got this.”

“How time tiww mummah?” Mocha asked Jimi.

He was surprised, as lately her only interest was in babbehs. Just babbehs. Babbehs on the teebee. Treating 'Tuffy as a babbeh. She had gone babbeh crazy.

He gave her a shrug to answer and turned back to the teebee. Sure, there were plenty of toys, but he was tired and just felt nu gud. Lately he had been having sickie wawa and his pretty purple fluff had been coming out.

Because of the sickie wawa he wasn’t eating or drinking as much, and neither was Mocha. It wasn’t that the nummies weren’t nummie enough, they tasted fine. It was that everything wasn’t as good as when mummah was around. As much as his tiny brain could comprehend, there was a direct connection to mummah.

When mummah was here, everything was better. The water tasted refreshing and sweet. The nummies were just nummier. The lights brighter, the world happier. He lived for her smile. As painful as it was when she wasn’t around, it wasn’t the same as his first daddeh, when she did come home, the world was right.

He sighed and sprawled out staring at the teebee. “Wan spechul huggies. Wan spechul fwend.” His tail started to swish as the mares made it on screen.

“Mocha wan babbehs.” 'Tuffy getting squeezed in response. She still hadn’t let him go.

As the program ended, their favorite came on. The Babbeh Show. Mares hugging, singing, and feeding their chirpy foals. For Mocha, this only reinforced her need. For Jimi, it was soft core porn. The entire half hour he made small enf’ing noises and humped at the floor. It was a half hour of painful bliss, it only caressed the raw need in their hearts, and loins.

After the show both were left wanting and unfulfilled, and Jimi and Mocha started at the closed safe room door silently wishing mummah would show up and fix everything.

As if fate was conspiring with Sammy, exactly what she needed appeared before her. Her car door wasn’t even closed before a teal mare waddled up to her. Spring had sprung and it was a common sight to see mares with their foals begging for food and a home, a bit more rare their special friend would be with them. It was painful when it was a stallion with foals on his back, this was a clear sign that the mare was dead, and unless a miracle appeared, the foals were going to be joining the mare soon.

On the back of this teal mare were three tiny chirpy foals, black, yellow, and pink. “Umm… Nice wady be nyu mummah?”

Samny always felt bad, but she couldn’t save every fluffy. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I can’t. But, I can help you a little bit, if you’ll let me.”

“Fwowew nee nummies fow miwkies. Nice wady hab nummies fow Fwowew?” Flower asked rather politely, almost nervously. It wasn’t uncommon for the humans to torture and kill over asking for food. They were powerless to the whims of humans, as if they were gods and could arbitrarily save or condemn their fragile life. Sammy could only imagine what this fluffy has seen.

“I can offer you nummies, and a safe space for you to sleep tonight. Just one night. And I can give you as much food as you can eat. But,” she held up a finger, “I will need to borrow a baby tonight. I will clean and feed just one of your babies and let it sleep inside nice and warm, and I’ll return it to you.”

Flowers ears and tail drooped, the only way she could see this as a human offering food and shelter for a day at the cost of one of her foals. As much as she wanted to believe, she didn’t expect that the foal would be returned, and if it was, it wouldn’t be alive. “If Fwowew gif nice wady uh babbeh den Fwowew get nummies?”

Sammy nodded, “and I’ll give your foal special human nummies and give it back in the morning.”

It wasn’t a bad deal, she had three foals, and if one didn’t come back, she would have one less mouth to feed. If the nice lady was telling the truth then that foal might have a better chance. As if to signal their hunger, the three started fussing and chirping. “Wat babbeh nice wady wan? Yewwow babbeh pointy babbeh, bwack babbeh hab wingies… Pink babbeh hab pointy tu.”

“Flower, I’m not keeping the baby, I promise,” the fluffy didn’t look convinced. She picked up the black foal, it started chirping instantly. As it squirmed in her hand to hug her finger it alternated between suckling on the tip and yawning hungrily. It was a little colt, and if she had interest in another fluffy, she would keep him. “Flower, I’ll use human magic on this one.”

“… Otay nice wady…”

Sam led the mare to the back yard and closed the gate behind them. She had returned the foal back as she prepped for Flower. Two heaping bowls of the same food for her own fluffies. Her eyes went wide as Sam set them down. “Eat up. I’ll bring you more later if you eat it all.”

Flower had never seen that much food in once place, especially food for her. The immediate concern for her foals was lifted, the emotions of this single nice act washed over her. “Tank yu…” Her eyes started watering, she couldn’t help crying over this act of kindness.

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll have your baby back tomorrow morning.” While the food was as slightly more nutritious as sawdust the mare wouldn’t get much out of it, but it should help her make enough milk to give her a fighting chance in the wild.

Sam brought the foal to the kitchen. Neither Jimi nor Mocha were pounding at the safe room door, thankfully. She couldn’t risk a dirty and flea ridden foal to come into contact with her fluffies, which meant this black foal was going to experience it’s first bath.

Sammy hummed along to a song in her head as she bathed the chirping panicked foal. As it dried she prepared a bottle of formula. The foal crawled around the counter top, it’s head waving from side to side, sniffing and listening as his eyes were still not open.

It chirped in protest as she put him on his back and shoved the nipple into his mouth. “Aww, you’re a hungry little guy, huh? Oh, but I can’t have you too full, that’ll just make things take too long.” His velvet black legs flailed searching for her fingers, for the bottle.

Her fingers gave the foal done comforting pets and he quickly calmed down. Even that little amount of food was enough to hold his hunger at bay. Only moments pass before his breathing slows and he falls to sleep in her hand.

“Mocha, Jimi, mummah is home!” She happily announced, turning the lights up in the safe room. “Mocha, I have something for you. Now, I know you’ve been a really really really good girl, so… I brought you a baby!”

“BABBEH!?” Her screech woke the foal and he started chirping. Mocha grabbed onto 'Tuffy and somehow threw him from her teat across the room. Even Jimi watched the stuffy friend fly in amazement.

Mocha scrambled to her hooves and launched herself at Sammy. “You have to take care of this baby. He can’t eat kibble or drink water, you have to feed him, you know how?”

Mocha was too excited to answer, her hooves tapped and wings buzzed. She sat on her rump holding her legs up, “pwease mummah, pwease, Mocha nee babbeh. Nee babbeh!”

Sammy held out the black foal to Mocha, it chirped as the unfamiliar fluffy grabbed him. Mocha sniffed the foal. Licked it. “Dis am gud babbeh.”

“That’s right! And you’re gonna be a great mummah! I have to go back out, but I’ll be back later. Make sure to feed the foal and help it make good poopies in the litter, okay?”

“Jimi wiww hewp wif babbeh tu.” He nudged the foal with his nose, sniffing at him. The foal chirped, not pleased with all the excitement.

Sammy turned down the lights again in the safe room and closed the door behind her. This evening she would be on the couch watching Mocha and her new baby.

Mocha held the black male pegasus in her hooves and firmly hugged it against her chest. “Mummah wub yu su much! Yu da bestest babbeh Mocha mummah hab! Gunna gib yu bestest huggies and miwkies and wub!”

The foal chirped in distress. This wasn’t his mother’s voice, it wasn’t her fluff, and it wasn’t her smell. This fluffy was not his mother and there was nothing he could do.

Jimi watched as his sister shower love on the babbeh. The babbeh, instead, made chirps and peeps of distress. It hit something deep inside. Each chirp, every peep, made him distraught. This foal needed help. “Mocha, yu nee tu gif babbeh miwkies. Dat babbeh am hungwy.”

“Mocha make da vewy bes miwkies!” Her confidence was overflowing. She laid down on her side spreading her rear legs and unceremoniously pushed the foal onto her teat. It crawled through the fluff until it found a nipple and latched on.

It only took a second before it lifted it’s head and chirped in frustration. His tiny hooves kneeding at her flesh, he latched on again.

And again, nothing.

His chirps became louder and he found the other nipple.

Again, nothing. The foal chirped loudly and yawned hungrily.

“Wat wong babbeh? Hab miwkies. Nu wan mummah miwkies?” Mocha was confused, mostly because she was dumber than most fluffies. Again she grabbed the foal and placed him against her teat. He chirped and tried another unsuccessful attempt for food. Mocha was becoming distraught and forcefully held the foal against her teat, the foal only chirped and peeped louder and faster.

“Jimi tink sumtin’ wong.” He took the foal from Mocha who was also becoming upset, lifting the foal with his teeth by the nape of his neck.

“Wai babbeh bad babbeh? Nu num miwkies. Mocha am gud fwuffy an make gud miwkies! Wai yu bad babbeh?!” A typical fluffy trait to shift blame, it couldn’t be her fault. Mocha was a good fluffy, she didn’t make bad poopies anymore, so clearly this foal is the problem.

“Tink mummah can ficks babbeh?” Jimi asked as he hugged the foal as best he could with one leg.

Well, that was quick. Sammy watched, and heard from the speakers and from down the hall Mocha pound on the door begging for help.

-mummah! Hewp! Babbeh nee hewp!- -pomf pomf pomf pomf- the hooves hit the wood door. -mummah! Pwease hewp!- the chirping of the foal coming through the webcam feed.

It was impressive as Mocha carried on for a half hour. She had stopped crying and decided she was better off consoling the chirping foal.

“Dat otay, babbeh,” Mocha hugged the foal again, “maybeh babbeh be hungwy and num miwkies soon.” She transitioned into a stereotypical mummah song, which was promptly interrupted by the foal defecating, piss and shit making a small puddle on the floor.

“Mocha, yu hab tu make babbeh make gud poopies. Dat mean yu hab tu cwean poopies… An yu hab tu gib babbeh wickie cweanies.” It was common knowledge, and he knew from the rapt attention given to the mummah show.

A disgusted look crept onto her face as the words sunk in. Everything about this babbeh has been the worst. But she already loved him so much. She carried her favorite babbeh by default over to the bed and dropped him with a chirp.

Mummah told her to feed and clean the foal and she knew if she didn’t do what her mummah said then the sorry stick was coming out. Mocha’s heart sank as she cleaned up the small pile, and the bile rose with each lick. She returned to the foal and gave him a halfhearted cleaning. It didn’t seem possible but she was loving this foal less and less. Babbehs were made for love, it didn’t make sense to Mocha.

Or, maybe it wasn’t the foal. Maybe she was just hating herself for being a bad mummah. If she was a good mummah then her babbeh would num her miwkies, and he refused. Maybe he wasn’t a bad babbeh… Maybe she was a bad mummah.

Mocha cuddled the foal into her chest and sang as happily as she could, which was quickly losing it’s enthusiasm.

As Jimi hovered around Mocha and the foal, their favorite show started. His attention diverted instantly. Mocha ignored it, wallowing in self pity over being a bad mummah, or having a bad babbeh. But Jimi, he couldn’t help watching.

His hormones were unstoppable and there was no point in resisting. Jimi watched for the entire half hour the mummahs and the glimpses of their special places. His tail swished and his hips bucked.

This was not enough, as the credits rolled he needed to find release. Mocha was on her bed with the foal, then his eyes fell on the answer. 'Tuffy. Mocha’s favorite and only stuffy friend she has carelessly tossed away in favor of the black foal.

“Sowwy pwease babbeh, pwease be otay…” Her voice trailed off as she started to notice some weird sound.

-enf enf enf-

-chirp!- the foal chirped out in pain as Mocha dropped him. Jimi was on top of 'Tuffy, pounding away. Mocha just watched in horror as her brother shouted “gud feews!” Her brother just defiled her favorite stuffy friend and substitute foal.

This was like watching a car wreck, if the cars could scream. The foal was chirping and trying to crawl away on the laminate floor, hungry and scared, a trail of piss left behind. Unfortunately for him, he was going nowhere fast.

Mocha waddled as fast as she could to Jimi. Just as he was dismounting the stuffed animal Mocha headbutted his side knocking him over. She saw that 'Tuffy was covered in Jimi’s semen, he defiled her 'Tuffy. Jimi had given her 'Tuffy bad special hugs. “Dat am Mocha’s fabowite babbeh!” She towered over him before he could recover and rained down a barrage of hooves to his head and side. He tried to resist, but his front leg was against the floor, and he couldn’t get away from her attack.

“Pwease sowwy! Jimi sowwy! Sowwy pwease!” Scared poopies unwillingly evacuated his colon. His begging got him nowhere, booboo juice flowed from his nose, his eye swollen shut.

Then the attack stopped, “oh my god, what happened in here?!” Mummah was here to save him.

Lovesick - Part 3
Lovesick Part 5


I was going to upload this as part 4 and 5, but figured, why not a longer than usual part?


why hasn’t jimi been neutered yet?


They were planning but apparently the clinic has a rule what age a fluffy has to be neutered or spayed…

Personally I would have done it before they were talkie Babbehs since they would have not remembered seeing anything wrong with their bodies when they open their eyes…less trauma that ways since they wouldn’t have any memories of their lumps being active.


Neither were taken in for proper vet visits by Steve. As for Mocha, they decided to wait until after the encephalitis treatments as it could cause too much stress on her body. As for Jimi, I don’t have a good reason except plot





made by a hugboxer to make his fluffys only love HER?..lets…go?


I’m loving this.

This is making me so happy and satisfied inside. I’m loving this.

Hoooooly shit! This is even better than I had hoped for somehow. The rate at which you put these out is both admirable and enviable considering how much meat there is per part. Sibling feuds!

Well, I’m a little slow compared to when I wrote Abandoned Angel.

But, I am still working on the next part. And so no one is worried, unless I happen to die, the story will have an ending, it’s just getting to it. I won’t pull a George RR Martin


Well that escalated quickly.

I didn’t have ‘Prince/Jimi and Mocha would’ve possibly somehow been better off with Steve than Sammy’ in my sequel what if list, but here we are. And I’m rapidly hoping Mocha gets some unexpected complications from her previous illness, given how awful of a precocious ‘mummah’ she’s turning out to be.

Glad I don’t have to wait for more on the story- heck I had a busy weekend and I’ve already got to play catch up!


Can’t have the good without the bad. And I do have to keep things interesting.

But, if you’d like I can write slower. :smiley:

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Pretty sure the community’d have me crucified like a fluffy in that case XD