Lovesick - Part 8
Jimi ambled, or more accurately, waddled out of his crate. Each step of his rear legs was precise and slow. The space where his no-no stick and special lumps were was still numb, which radiated down his legs. He wasn’t happy, not at all. He wanted his lumps back, he wanted them back so bad, but after seeing just how much pain he caused his mummah, he couldn’t ask for them back. He didn’t even know what he really needed them for, possibly something about babbehs and good feels, but he couldn’t quite put his hoof on it.
Thankfully mummah left his crate close to his bed, where he promptly rolled onto his back with his legs spread eagle.
“Jimi, wat wong wit spechul pwace?” Mocha sniffed near the patch of bald skin, her nose wrinkled at the smell of antiseptic. It didn’t look right, and not just because he was missing fluff.
“Jimi wuz bad fwuffy an mummah hab make wumps gu 'way.”
Mocha sat near him, “weww, Jimi wuz dummeh poopie fwuffy.” She nudged at his hoof, trying to tease him. But he was having none of it.
“Gu 'way.”
Mocha harrumphed and got up, heading to the living room where she heard mummah. Then she heard the chirp. That was a babbeh. She whispered excitedly, “babbeh!” Before she could take a step, she remembered when she last had a babbeh. That black foal. The black foal that showed her she’d be a bad mummah. Her tail drooped, but continued onward to find mummah and the babbeh.
Sammy sat on the couch with her hands cupped together, in her palms nestled a black pegasus colt. The very same colt she used to show Mocha that she would be a bad mother. The very same foal that Mocha beat because there was no milk in her teats. As if her thoughts materialized, Mocha peeked around the corner.
“Mummah? Yu hab babbeh?” Her ears twitched trying to hear more chirps or peeps.
Sammy sighed, “yeah… I’ve got a baby fluffy.” She wasn’t happy about this, not at all. She couldn’t leave feeding this to a fluffy, unless she had access to a pregnant mare, or a mare that still had chirpy foals. Mocha and Jimi would not be able to take care of it. Not until it could eat solid food. Judging by the size it was going to be about two weeks.
“Can Mocha howd babbeh?” She sat down on her rump and held up her hooves.
“Do you remember that baby I gave you? The one you tried to be a mummah to?”
Her hooves slowly lowered, along with her ears. “Mocha 'membew…”
“Well he was given back. I know you wanted to be his mummah. Do you remember what we talked about?” Sammy was clearly trying to remind Mocha of the conversation where she had admitted to being a terrible mother, and that Sammy didn’t want her having babies.
“Mocha 'membew…”
Sammy slid off the couch to the floor, she couldn’t lift Mocha with one hand, not while holding the foal steady. “I need you to promise me something. You can’t be this foal’s mummah. But you can be his big sister. Can you be a good sister?”
“Mocha am babbeh’s sissy?” She had a thoughtful look, “dat mean Mocha gib wub an huggies and hewp babbeh be gud fwuffy?”
“That’s right. But you can’t hit him. And you can’t feed him. I’ll feed him. Can you do this?”
Mocha thought even longer, then nodded, “Mocha am bes sissy!” She held out her hooves again, “can Mocha da bestest sissy howd babbeh?”
With a slight smile Sammy handed over the foal. It began to chirp in distress once it smelled Mocha, but she started licking him and singing to him, as if the stress of the previous incident had been erased with her new title of sister, no longer needing to be this foals mother.
“Mocha gun gib yu da bes huggies and wub! Mocha am sowwy, babbeh, Mocha am bad mummah, but Mocha am bestest sissy!” She plopped over to her side and let the foal crawl into her fluff, his chirping diminished.
While the two were finally starting to bond, Sammy disappeared in the garage to dig out her old fluffy foal products. A small bed with a warming pad, a bottle, and a stuffed toy smaller, but similar to 'Tuffy. The stuffed animal was shaped closer to a foal and was lovingly worn, all the foals she had raised kept this as company until they grew to want larger stuffed friends.
As dinner rolled around, Jimi was still in the safe room, still in bed, and still spread eagle. No amount of begging from Mocha would rouse him from his funk. It was understandable, Sammy thought, she’d have been pretty upset too. She still made them their bowl of kibble with extra vitamins, and a bottle of formula for the foal.
Mocha was enthralled watching Sammy take care of the foal. She watched intently as the foal was wiped after pooping. And when Sammy tried to feed the foal the bottle Mocha was tapping around the floor, her wings buzzing. She ended up sitting on the floor again, in front of the couch, holding the foal and the bottle low enough that Mocha could stand with her face inches from the foal. It truly was a complete 180 when it came to Mocha’s attitude towards the foal. Perhaps Mocha actually did learn what Sammy wanted from that night of pretending to be a mother.
The foal latched onto the bottle and greedily drank it up. Jimi had finally decided to make his way from the safe room to see what was going on. He silently watched as Sammy fed the foal, feeling a tinge of jealously.
“Mummah hab babbeh?” He asked as he still, very slowly, made his way to the rest of his family.
“That’s right. This is the foal Mocha tried to be a mummah for. But… he was given back. So that means I’m stuck with him.”
Jimi nodded, “dat mean mummah hab twace fwuffies nao?”
She smiled, “that’s right. And I still love you just as much as I did before. This baby could never replace you. He’s going to be your new brother.”
“Jimi am gud bwuddah, wiww be gud bwuddah tu…” He paused, “wat babbeh’s name?”
Sammy gave the foal a pet as it released from the now empty bottle. It hugged her fingers and rubbed his head against her and his wings fluttered happily. She could see faint maroon strands of fluff peeking out from the top of his head. “How about Nova?”
“Dat gud name.” Mocha chimed in.
“Jimi be gud bwuddah tu Nova.”
She handed Nova to Mocha to allow the two older fluffies to cuddle and be cute with the foal.
Rachel opened the front door for Sammy, as her hands were full with Mocha in a crate in one hand and a plastic bag and a box in the other. “What’cha got here?”
“Oh, you’re gonna love this.” Sammy grinned wryly as she had no intention of having three fluffies. “Wanna meet Nova?” Mocha was left in the crate on the counter while Sammy opened the top of the box to reveal the black pegasus curled up and asleep.
“She’s beautiful!”
“HIS name is Nova. And you’re god damn right he’s beautiful.” She grinned and lowered her voice, “that feral, Flower, the one I fed that one time, she pushed him through my fence and left.”
“That’s horrible! But he’s so cute!” Nova chirped and his legs kicked, his wings fluttered as he dreamt. “I love him. I love him so much. I’d kill a man for this fluffy.”
Both women laughed, “don’t do that. Well, okay, maybe, do that. But let’s figure out who first.”
The first appointment of the day was for Sammy, and she left Nova with Rachel at the desk, along with a bottle. It was more so that Rachel wouldn’t let her not leave Nova with her, which was fine, as free babysitting was always welcome.
“Mummah? Wat am mummah doin?” Mocha asked as Sammy strapped her down on the cold table.
Sammy glanced at the door to make sure Cheryl wasn’t about to pop in. “This is your final treatment. You’re gonna get really really tired, and it’s okay to go to sleep.” It was a simple lie, easier than explaining that she was going to spay Mocha and remove all the bits necessary for her to become a mother. There was little fight from Mocha as Sammy set the IV, and shortly Mocha was asleep.
It was a few hours later when Mocha woke, groggy and numb with a tinge of soreness. She didn’t understand what was done, but that everything was going to be all better. Sammy, to help both Mocha and Nova, put Nova into the crate with Mocha. She was perfectly content with the black foal climbing onto her back to curl up into her fluff. Both fluffy and foal went back to sleep, comforted by the small fluff pile they made.
When Sammy finally returned home with the two, Jimi was still in the safe room looking quite unhappy. He did manage to roll the ball around, Sammy noticed. As she opened the carrier Mocha awkardly waddled out with Nova on her back. As she filled their bowls both Jimi and Mocha miserably made their over for dinner. Both were given extra spaghetti flavored treats for being such good fluffies. It would only take a few days for both Mocha and Jimi to get back to normal.
