((Please note that this is chapter 2 of my series “House Guests”, taking place 10 minutes after the events of “House Guests 5”.))
Travis drops the final dirty towel in his washing machine before quietly shutting the lid and starting the wash cycle. He turns around, double checking any spots on the carpet had been scrubbed clean with a smile and a nod in recognition of his own hard work.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
The microwave quietly beeps from it’s resting place atop his cabinets in his kitchen. Travis smiles as he quickly makes his way toward his kitchen in sock-clad feet, being extra careful not to make any unnecessary noise as he playfully slides across the tiled floor. The smell of cheap dollar-store pasta fills the kitchen as he quickly dumps the freshly heated food into a clean baby-safe bowl. He gives it a quick stir with a fork, insuring the whole bowl is properly heated before pulling out a special ingredient-
Pharmaceutical-grade sleeping medication.
Travis retrieves 3 capsules from a nearby drawer before carefully pulling them apart and dumping their contents over the top of the cheap canned pasta. He quickly mixes in the white powder into the noodles until it seamlessly blends with the rest of the dish. His little fluffy guest has just entered the world of motherhood, and Travis wanted to make sure her foals had a decent meal in their stomachs before he had his fun.
He leans over his counter, pressing pause on the video playing from his phone; A youtube video named “Fluffy owner’s guide to happy Bowl Fluffs.” Before carefully pocketing a few small fluffy treats. Picking up the safety bowl of pasta, Travis quickly and quietly pads his way up to the Yellow door at the end of the hall. He presses his ear flat against the yellow-stained wood, trying his best to listen for any signs of life. The sound of soft chirping, muffled by the door is a good sign!
He slowly enters the room, quietly closing the door behind him before sneaking over toward the pile of old blankets that made up Roxy’s temp-nest. He bends down next to Roxy, placing the pasta next to her before giving her mane a scratch as he sits next to her and her disgusting fluid-covered crotch spawn as they helplessly cry out to be fed.
“You did perfect, little Rosie. So many new foals! You’re a very good fluffy. The best!”
Roxy slowly glances toward Travis, exhaustion flooding her entire body. She was sore. Tired. Happy.
“Ta…Tank’ ou’…Daddeh…Wosie wuv bestes’… Daddeh an…Babbehs…”
Every word was an extreme effort, but it was worth it.
Roxy is an Alicorn mare with glittering snow-white fluff. Her wings, mane, and tail all shared a glimmering golden hue on top of the flittering white. She gently coos and purrs as she gets her first long good at her newborn foals, covered in fluids and cheeping out in fear with their eyes firmly shut. In total, Roxy had given birth to 6 healthy chirpy babbehs! More than she could count on all her hoofies!
She wiggles her body around, finding herself much more maneuverable now that she wasn’t swollen to the size of a beach ball as she comes to rest on her haunches. She begins gathering her foals one by one, allowing her to carefully inspect and clean each of them individually-
The first foal Roxy collects, her firstborn and oldest, seems to immediately calm to her touch. It doesn’t peep- Instead, it coos in response to the feeling of comfort brought on by the feeling of it’s mothers warm tongue running over it’s body. A tiny little Colt with a few strands of midnight blue fluff sprouting around it’s body, resting contently in Roxy’s grasp. She takes note of the tiny little bumps on it’s back-
"Fiwstes’ babbeh am wingie-cowt! Gon’ be bwave an’ stwong just wike-…speciew… Fwien’…?"
Tears of confusion and fear slowly begin to drip into Roxy’s cheek fluff. Travis simply cocks his head before scratching behind Roxy’s little ears. She purrs contently before wiping away her tears and licking away a few that had fallen onto her Babbeh in the process. She suddenly realizes, as she licks the forehead of her foal, that it also has a tiny little bump there too! A pointy wingy fluffy, just like her!
She can’t help but cry a little more, this time from happiness as she gently places her firstborn on her milkie-place to begin feeding. It doesn’t waste a second as it latches onto her teat, suckling contently as warm milkies begin filling it’s tiny belly for the very first time.
She proceeds to pick up her next babbeh, her second born, before carefully going about her task of licking it clean. Travis watches her in silence. She still isn’t sure of what’s going, but at this point she wasn’t questioning anything. Roxy cleans this foal just as carefully, once again taking note of the tiny bumps on it’s forehead and back. It too was a colt, but with tiny strands of sunray-orange fluff sprouting around it’s tiny frame.
He struggles a bit in discomfort as he’s cleaned, peeping angrily in defiance before being placed down onto Roxy’s other milky place. He peeps again before latching straight onto the teat, sucking it greedily to fill his belly.
“Is otay wittew’ babbeh, dwink mummah’s miwkies! Miwkies hewp’ babbehs
tummeh huwties!”
Roxy gingerly leans foward, scooping her third born foal into her little hoofies. It peeps and chirps out frantically, fear filling it’s body as it suddenly feels itself being hoisted from the not-fluff it was wiggling around on. It’s tiny little hooves wiggle and thrash in the air, searching for some kind of solid surface as a tiny stream of it’s first scardie poopies shoot from it’s tiny little rump onto Roxy’s white fluff. She doesn’t even notice as she licks and hugs her tiny scardie-chirping babbeh. This one was a Filly! She had much more fluff than her two older brothers, her body being covered in a thin layer of rose-gold peach fuzz. Just like her older siblings, she had a tiny little bump on her forehead! Unlike them however, she lacked any tiny wing bumps. She cheeps again as the cold air meets her freshly cleaned rump, sending a tiny shivers up her tiny spine as she continues to peep in distress.
Roxy quickly places the filly down on her milkie place next to her firstborn, watching as her eldest colt seems to sniff at the air before unlatching from her teat and wiggling it’s tiny little hoofies around his sister. He seems to do his best to hug his sister before wiggling under her backside to boost her toward their mothers milkie place. Roxy coos in joy, clapping her squishy hoofies together excitedly before turning her attention toward her remaining 3 babbehs.
Travis sits there, phone up and recording as he forces himself to hold the video steady as e records everything happening before him. He couldn’t even think straight, any and all words leaving his brain. Nothing else he would experience throughout his life would come close to how he felt at this exact moment. Well, almost nothing anyway.
Roxy carefully places her oldest chirpeh babbeh into her saggin belly-fluff above her milkie places before scooping her next two squirming foals into her little leggies. Her fourth and Fifth born- The two most painful foals to birth during the entire process. These two seemed to want to come out at the same time, giving Roxy’s special place some of the worst hurties she’s ever felt in all her forevers. They were twins, born at the EXACT same time. Not only that, but these two foals had a strange sour smell to them. They didn’t smell pretty like her other babbehs. They smelled… Wrong. Roxy ignored the primal instincts screaming in her head telling her to discard these two chirpy babbehs as she sets about the task of cleaning them both.
This takes some extra time, however. The twins, a pair of fillies, did not make licky cleanies easy. They wiggled and peeped whenever Roxy would lick one instead of the other, giving Roxy heart hurties because she didn’t like hearing her babbehs make saddy chirps! She decided to lick them both at the same time as she pushes the tiny pair together with her little hoofies. This causes them to chirp in distress as the sudden force pushing them together causes one of them to make it’s first scardie poopies all over Roxy’s little hoofie and leggy. This causes her twin sister to chirp out in… Joy? Before suddenly letting loose her own little squirt of poopies all over her mother’s other Hoofie and Leg.
Roxy glares at them silently as they peep and chirp in joy and triumph just as her second born babbeh pops off her milkie place. Roxy wastes no time placing the foal with it’s sleeping brother before quickly placing the twins on her newly open milkie place. They both take turns drinking some milkies then popping off so the other can feed.
Travis zooms in on them. Now that they weren’t squirming, he could finally check if they had any fluff of markings. Both seemed to have tiny wingy bumps, but no horns like their older siblings. While not as pronounced as their older sisters fluff, they both still had a very light layer of dark green fuzz covering their tiny bodies.
Roxy’s attenetion finally lands on her final foal. Her youngest, and last born. It pitifully sits flat on it’s stomach, it’s tiny squishy legs and hoofies slapping the puddle of feces, blood, and afterbirth it now finds itself stewing in. It peeps out pitifully in fear, calling out for rescue from the pain now plaguing it’s tiny little tummy.
Roxy scoops it’s tiny writhing form into her hoofies before proceeding to lick this one clean as well. It peeps out in confusion, then comfort, then falls silent as it’s placed on Roxy’s milkie place in place of it’s older sister. This final foal was a colt, with a patch of dark muddy brown fluff fuzz sprouting around it’s belly and back end. It lacks any defining features such as a horn or wings like it’s siblings. The only earthy foal in the litter.
“Dewe ou’ gu wittewest babbeh. Dwink mummah miwkies, gwow big an’ stwong jus’ wike ou’ owduh bwuddahs an’ sissies!”
Roxy coo’s and sings her mummah song softly to her babbehs as she carefully pulls her two samsie-babbehs from her now deflated milky place and places them in the little fluff pile with their siblings in the saggy bowl-fluff of her belly.
The youngest foal, shivering from the cold and tummy aching from hunger, chirps and sniffs around in confusion, searching around for some kind of relief before feeling something gently push down on the back of it’s head. Roxy stares down at her youngest foal helplessly wiggling around on her nearly deflated milky place before carefully helping it find her teat. The tiny foal wiggles and thrashes under the gentle force of his mothers hoof as it’s mouth fills with his mothers teat. It coughs up a little bit of oozy saliva before instinctively latching down and greedily sucking, thrashing it’s tiny weak hoofies into the sagging flaps of skin that made up the nipple as warm milkies begin to slowly flow from the teat. The foal slowly calms as it suckles, the feeling of it’s belly slowly filling allowing it to relax it’s tiny little body.
The foals joy is short lived though, as Roxy’s milky place runs dry and it’s final few drops of sweet warm milkies trickle down his throat. The foal sucks harder, then even harder as it thrashes it’s tiny hoofies into the saggy tit skin. It had only gotten a few swallows of milkies before it had run out, not nearly enough to fill it’s tiny belly. He unlatches and cries out again.
Roxy gently picks up her crying foal and gives him a big hug.
“Mummah sowwy’ wittewes’ babbeh… Nu’ haf’ nuff miwkies fow’ awe wittew-chiwpie-babbehs. Mummah wiww’ num bestes’ skettis su’ mummah can make bestes’ miwkies fow hew’ wittewest babbeh!”
Travis cant help but feel his heart melt a bit as he records Roxy hugging her youngest foal while the rest of her litter sleep in a tiny flesh-colored fuzz pile in her belly fluff. He watches as Roxy turns her attention to the bowl of cheap canned pasta next to her.
“Nu mow saddie-chiwpies wittewes’ babbeh, Mummah Woxy gon’ num aww dah’ skettis fow make wots of miwkies fo-”
Just as quickly as it melted, Travis’s heart hardens back to stone. His expression empties from his face as his cold gaze falls over Roxy and her youngest foal. He slowly leans down until he’s at Roxy’s eye level before addressing her.
“Rosie… What did I just hear you say?”
Roxy’s entire body suddenly tenses up as her fluff seems to raise on end. She begins hugging her foal tighter into her chest fluff as she slowly looks over at Travis. Her foal, being caught off guard by the sudden tighter hug, begins gently wiggling against his mothers tight grip. He tries opening his mouth the chirp in fear, but only succeeds in filling it with his mothers white fluff.
Roxy begins tearing up again as her body begins violently shaking with fear.
“M-m-mummah say d-d-dat gon’ num sket-t-t-ies fow’ make m-m-miwkies…”
Travis leans in closer, putting the most angry looking expression he could muster on as he continues to stare at Roxy.
“What did you just call yourself, ROSIE?!”
Travis adds more volume to the end of his question, emphasizing Rosie’s name as he watches a small puddle of scardie peepees begin pooling beneath her rump. He gets right in her face now, touching the tip of his nose against the tip of her snout.
“WELL?!”
Roxy whimpers and hugs her foal tighter, her fear making her oblivious to the danger she was now putting her foal in. The tiny creature squirms and thrashes with all of it’s might against his mother’s tight squeeze, trying to take a breath of air but only finding his mummahs soft fluff filling it’s mouth and throat.
“MUMMAH’ SOWWY FOW’ SAY BAD-NAMESIES DADDEH!! PWEASE NU’ GIF’ MUMMAH-”
Roxy’s cries for mercy are abruptly cut short by Travis reaching forward, pinching the nape of her foal’s neck between his fingernails and yanking it free from her grasp before stuffing it under the pile of now cold pasta. Travis can hear only audible gargling as the Foal slowly begins to drown under the cold chewy pasta and imitation tomato paste that it calls “sauce”.
Travis suddenly gets another idea. As soon as he pulls his hand from the pasta, he shifts his expression of empty anger to one of seemingly genuine care and concern. He looks over at Roxy’s panicked expression as she dives forward, watching as her 5 older foals all go tumbling to the floor with a series of fear-filled chirps and lots of tiny scardie-poopies.
Roxy goes into a full-blown panic, jumping to her hoofies and diving straight for the bowl of cold pasta, sending her sleeping foals hurtling toward the floor.
"NUUUU!! BABBEH’ TU WITTEW FOW’ SKETTI’ NUMMIES! NEE’ MUMMAH’S MIWKIES AN’ HUGGIES!!"
Travis waits until Roxy is less than an inch from the bowl of pasta before putting his hand out and lightly pushing her away from the food. She goes tumbling comedically backwards, flopping back onto her haunches as she hugs her snout as tightly as she can.
EEP! “huuhuu, wai gif Mummah smeww-pwace huwties?! huuhuu Mummah nee’ hewp wittewes’ babbeh!!”
Travis simply stares down at her before looking at the tiny foals scattered around the floor, all of them now crying and shitting in fear.
“Not so fast my little Rosie, you know what daddy said about “Skettie” night. No sketties unless all of your foals are clean and taken care of. You wouldn’t want them-”
Another tiny series of air bubbles gurgle up from the bowl of pasta, interrupting Travis for only a moment before he continues, much to the panicked dismay of Roxy as she now impatiently bounces between her front hoofies.
“…You wouldn’t want them to have the worstest milkies, would you? I wouldn’t think so. Pick up your foals and clean up their mess, then I’ll let you have your dinner.”
Travis makes sure that last part hangs in the air as he watches the information process in Roxy’s tiny fluffy head. Another gurgle, this time louder but shorter than the previous one, pulls Roxy out of her train of thought. Her gaze shifts to her babbehs making bad poopies all around her, then back to the bowl of cold pasta Travis held in his hand.
“BABBEHS!! HUUHUU MUMMAH WOSIE SOWWY!!”
Roxy’s tears stain the carpet around her as she gathers up and licks her babbehs clean as fast as she can before shuffling them onto her back fluff. She bounds back up to Travis a moment later, bouncing back and forth between her front hoofies in a panic as she stares up at the bowl in his hands.
“PWEASE’ GIF WITTEWES’ BABBEH TU’ MUMMAH WOXY DADDEH!! BABBEH AM TU’ WITTEW FOW’ SKETTI NUMMIES!! BABBEH NEE’ MUMMAHS MIWKIES AN HUGGIES!!”
Travis’s head cocks to the side again as he slowly stand up, Roxy banging her front hoofies softly against his shin as her other foals chirp in panic again, almost rolling right back off her back once again. His eye twitches as a sudden spike of anger bubbles up from within. Before his anger reaches a peak, something in his head suddenly pops. An unsettling grin spreads over his face as he looks down at Roxy, causing her to screee and release a spray of scardie poopies right onto the floor behind her. Travis bends down, before addressing Roxy in a clearly overexaggerated tone of concern.
“Oh no, my little Rosie’s head is playing mean tricks on her again! Rosie, how could you have forgotten that your youngest baby is the reason you don’t get sketty tonight? Your little foal decided he didn’t want to be cleaned or show up for dinner because he hates your dumb made up name!”
Travis forces himself to hold in his laughter before continuing.
“You know the rules! Daddy won’t give Rosie her sketty unless all of her foals are clean and accounted for!”
Travis feigns a look of despair as he places the back of his open hand against the side of his forehead. Roxy’s tears sting her eyes as her confusion becomes to obvious to hide. She just saw daddy put her babbeh in the sketti nummies, and she needed to save him! Except She can’t get the sketties because her littlest babbeh wasn’t there with her!
She couldn’t save her babbeh from the sketties because her babbeh wasn’t with her when her daddeh gave her the sketties? Except her daddy had put her babbeh in the sketties! Except how could daddy do that to her babbeh if her babbeh wasn’t there when she got the sketties? Since daddeh wouldn’t give her the sketties unless she had all of her babbehs…
“huuhuu… Mummah haf’ thinkie-pwace huwties!! Wai’ thinkie-pwace pway meanie twickies on mummah? huuhuu Jus’ wan’ wittewes’ babbeh!!”
Another gurgle, quick but audible, escapes the tomato paste. This causes a tiny drop of sauce to splash out from the bowl, falling straight onto Roxy’s little tear-stained snout. She licks the sauce, sending a rush of dopamine streaking through her body for a brief instant. Her stomach suddenly grumbles from hunger, and the sound her foals making scardie chirps from her back snaps her back into reality. She stares up at Travis, a look of desperation flooding her face.
“PWEASE GIF MUMMAH SKETTI’S DADDEH!! HUUHUU NU’ CAWE IF WITTEWES’ BABBEH AM BAD BABBEH!! MUMMAH WIWW GIF’ BABBEH PUN…ISH…MIN JUS’ PWEASE NU’ HUWT MUMMAH WOXY’S…”
She stops herself cold, a dense silence filling the air around them as Roxy realizes what she’s done. She called herself the wrong name again. She was beginning to wonder why her thinkie place was making her say these fake names, but it didn’t matter in that moment. Travis sighs in irritation before silently placing the bowl of cold pasta on the ground in front of Roxy before sliding his hand in his pocket and turning toward the door.
Roxy didn’t think twice as she quickly dug into the sketti. If she wasn’t panicking and if her heart didn’t have such bad hurties, these would probably be the bestest sketties she’s ever had. Instead, she was forced between eating her sketties out of fear that daddy would take them away because of her babbeh, and actually saving her babbeh from the very same sketties.
Bite after bite, mouthful after mouthful, Roxy makes quick work of the canned pasta as her remaining foals now fall back into a deep sleep in her back fluff. She continued digging into it until she reached the bottom of the bowl, licking it clean and sniffing every inch of it before realizing her babbeh was nowhere to be found. Her panicked mind suddenly begins to slow as the world around her begins to twirl before growing darker and darker. Her words slur as her eyes flutter shut before she falls the floor with a THUMP.
“Babbeh?! Whewe… Whewe am witt… wittewes… Babb…eh…”
Her last words seem to come out in a series of whispers as the sleeping meds mixed into her dinner begin to take effect. Travis grins and turns around, revealing the tiny foal contently sucking on it’s hoof in his hands. He approaches Roxy as she lay asleep on the floor, carefully gathering her and her foals into his arms before leaving the safe room. He places Roxy in a small tank of water, belly up as he watches her naturally buoyant bowl-shaped body bob on the surface of the water. Next he places her foals on her belly, just above her milkie places. Being a bowl fluffy, she wont naturally panic if she wakes up in the shallow tub before Travis can finish his work.
Travis quietly walks out of the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, not bothering to keep the light flicked on. He wouldn’t be gone too long, this project shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes. Plenty of time for a beer or two!