Lovesick part 5
With some sweet soft words and gentle pets, Sammy had calmed the foal, leaving it to rest on Mocha’s bed. She sat cross legged on the floor with Jimi on her lap. He was shivering and refusing to look at Mocha. Mocha was laying as flat as possible with her hooves covering her eyes.
“Mocha, baby, what happened?”
She sniffled, still hiding behind her hooves, “bad babbeh nu num Mocha’s miwkies. Dat a bad an dummeh babbeh. Den…” She sniffled, frustration turning to anger, but still unwilling to uncover her eyes, “den Jimi gib bad spechul huggies tu 'Tuffy!” She lifted her head, “Jimi bad fwuffy, 'Tuffy am jus widdle babbeh!”
Sammy sighed. “Mocha, 'Tuffy isn’t a baby. He’s just a stuffy friend.”
“'Tuffy am Mocha’s babbeh!” She shouted defiantly, the foal chirped and Jimi cowered against Sammy.
“No, baby, he’s not. That foal on your bed is your responsibility. You need to feed him and clean him. You have been begging for a baby, and now you need to show me you can take care of him.” Her fingers scratched around Mocha’s ears. “I’m going to take Jimi, and you are going to stay in here with the foal.”
Sammy didn’t give the brown pegasus a chance to complain, she held Jimi as she left the room, closing the door behind her. “Oh, my sweet baby, I’m sorry.” She hugged him close and rocked him as if holding a baby. “I’m gonna treat you to some special attention to make up for your sister being mean.”
She could barely make out his voice while being pressed into her chest “tank yu mummah.”
“How would you like to sleep in mummah’s bed?”
He gasped and looked up, his tail swished frantically, “yus!”
“That’s my big guy!” She instantly went from consoling to dancing and cheering with Jimi. This was just another small step of encouraging behavior where her happiness was their happiness. “I’m going to make you a special dinner.”
As his hooves touched the ground he sat, his tail still swishing. “Jimi wub aww nummies mummah make.” Knowing him, that was probably a statement of truth. To reward this behavior she presented him with a bowl of canned fluffy spaghetti. Which, interestingly enough, was the exact stuff in the super processed slop marketed to kids.
As he was eating, still more politely than Mocha eating spaghetti as she wears half the sauce, she had turned on Fluff-TV so they could cuddle after dinner. After one last trip to the kitchen she had the snacks, for humans and for fluffies.
Jimi curled up on Sammy’s lap, enjoying the fluffies on screen while Sammy watched the phone screen of another pair of fluffies.
Mocha was angry. She was angry at the babbeh for not being a good babbeh. She was angry at Jimi for giving her favorite babbeh special hugs. She was angry at her mummah for… For what? Mummah gave her exactly what she wanted. Most of all, she was angry at herself for being such a bad mummah to this chirpy babbeh.
She didn’t know how long she laid there after mummah left, maybe two or three forevers. It was the stressed chirping from the foal that caused Mocha to stir.
She pulled herself back to her hooves and went to the babbeh. This wasn’t just a babbeh, this was her babbeh. So why didn’t she feel the overwhelming sense of love that she expected? She looked down at the shivering and chirping black foal and felt… Everything. Frustration, anger, fear. Disappointment, in the foal and in herself.
With a grunt she laid down next to the foal and tried again to get him to latch. Which he did, and again kneaded her teat, and again his head lifted and he chirped. He tried to crawl up to her back but Mocha stopped him. She grabbed him and held him closer to her face.
“Yu dummeh babbeh. Mummah Mocha hab miwkies, buh yu nu dwink miwkies. Staph bein’ a dummeh babbeh.”
His only response was to chirp. She shook him a bit, her frustration growing. “Yu am bad babbeh. Yu am dummeh poopies babbeh.” Mocha snarled, “Mummah hatechu.”
She again forced him onto her teat, but didn’t even wait for him to find the nipple, she just pushed his body against her, eliciting more chirps and peeps.
She let the foal fall onto the bed and stood up over him, looking straight down. “Bad babbeh!” Her voice raising, “BAD BABBEH!” his chirps of terror didn’t stop, and he couldn’t crawl away fast enough, she lightly bopped him. “WHY YU BAD BABBEH! STOOPID!” she smacked him again.
To a human, it would have felt like a tap, to an adult fluffy, it would almost hurt. To a foal, it was excruciating. He chirped and peeped and flailed, but he couldn’t escape. He was helpless against the barrage of an adult fluffy. Then, suddenly, the assault stopped.
Mocha stared down at the foal, she knew he was terrified of her. She was supposed to love him, feed him. Protect him. And she was yelling at him, calling him a dummeh. Smacking him. He was just a chirpy babbeh. Why was she hitting him? And… Why was she now crying?
Her body collapsed and she held the scared foal against her fluff and cried.
Sammy was up with the sun. Jimi was sleeping peacefully next to her head. Peacefully until he started to dream, his tail and hooves twitching. Aww, he’s dreaming that he’s running.
She left him to sleep and went to check in on Mocha. Mocha exhausted herself crying and was still in a deep sleep. The foal, not so much. His head popped up at the sound of the door opening, and he yawned, his mouth gaping.
He only chirped once when Sammy carefully lifted up the foal. The door gently closed behind her, not disturbing the sleeping Mocha.
From a fresh batch of formula the foal greedily suckled. How he fit almost the entire bottle worth into his small body, Sammy couldn’t comprehend. But he did, and he promptly fell asleep into her hand. If it wasn’t for Mocha and Jimi, she would have kept this foal.
“Happy bwite time nice wady.” Flower greeted Sammy. When she held out the black foal she became even happier, “nice wady gib back babbeh!?” A look of surprise crossed her face.
“Not all humans are bad, you know.” She gave Flower a quick pet on her head, not even minding how dirty Flower was. “Your black foal has been fed, and,” Sammy looked at the two empty bowls, “how about I get you a refill? Once you finish the food, you can feed your babies, but after that you have to leave.”
Flower nodded, knowing how fickle humans could be, and how quick a hand offering affection could turn into pain or death. “Tank yu nice wady… Um… Nice wady wan babbehs?”
This wasn’t new, nor unexpected. The look in Flowers eyes said it all. She didn’t want to give up any of her foals, but she also knew that having a human mother was the best thing possible. Having a human mother meant the chance at a good life. A comfortable life. That maybe she wouldn’t have to watch someone, or something take their little lives away. “I can’t, sweetie. I’ve given you all the kindness I can.”
Flower understood, or at least understood that asking anything more might adgitate Sammy, that it was best to leave this topic. She wasn’t very hungry, but scarfed down the refilled food bowls to give her foals another meal before hitting the road.
Jimi sat in the doorway of the safe room, silently watching her and Mocha, Sammy didn’t think either could have heard him if he wanted to say anything anyway.
Mocha wasn’t just having a temper tantrum. Her tiny hooves pounded against Sammy’s chest, “hatechu! Hatechu dummeh Jimi! Hatechu! Mocha hatechu dummeh babbeh! Hatechu!” Her voice grew softer “huuu… Huuhuu… Mocha am bad wowstest mummah… Mocha hate Mocha…”
Mocha wailed, beyond the usual crying fluffies exhibit. This was the cry of a broken heart, the abject realization that no matter how hard she tried, how much she wanted, she would never ever be.a good mother. Sammy held her as she cried, “mocha, baby, I’m sorry, but, sometimes being a mommy isn’t going to work.”
