Part 1: Orange and Greenie - Part 1 (Faggot)
The next day Silvia walked into the saferoom to find Orange curled up in the corner of her playroom feeding three of her babies. Greenie was a few feet away looking at the little green filly with the similar colors to him. She was squirming on the ground meekly smelling the air.
“Hewwo gween babbeh. Am daddeh! Daddeh wuv widdle chiwpy babbeh!”
She started peeping in hunger.
“Babbeh nee miwkies? Daddeh take babbeh tu mummah.”
He gently picked her up by the scruff with his teeth and placed her on Orange’s nipple.
“So,” Silvia asks, “how are the new babies doing guys?”
“Babbehs am bestest babbehs mummah! Gwow up big an stwong! Gwow up tu pway an gif huggies!”
“Thought of any names?”
“Owange an Gweenie hab namsies mummah!”
Orange bumps the orange and brown one with her nose.
“Dis am Owange. Owange am Owange bestest babbeh!”
“Very creative. To avoid confusion, lets call him Orange Jr, ok?”
“Otay mummah.” She nudges the green one. “Dis am Gweenie. Gweenie am Gweenie’s bestest babbeh!”
“Greenie Jr, it will be.”
She nudges the brown one. “Dis am Poopie!”
“Poopie? That’s not a nice name! Didn’t I tell you not to treat any of your foals bad?”
“Poopie nu am bad babbeh! Mummah wuv Poopie! Poopie wook wike poopie bu mummah an daddeh wuv Poopie aniwae.”
“Well, ok, as long as you give her equal respect.” Silvia might have to change the name later, might be hard to sell off a brown foal named Poopie to a non-abuser.
She nudges the blue and pink one. “Dis am Bwuey!”
Not the most creative names in the world, but what do you expect from a couple dumb mutant chimeras that see the world the way they do? Then Silvia remembered something.
“Hey wait a minute, didn’t you have five foals?”
“peep peep peep”
That came from the litterbox. Silvia walked over to find the last chirpy alicorn with the white-gold coat and rainbow tail squirming around in the litter. He sounded hungry. Silvia picked him up and took him to the parents.
“Why was your last baby in the litterbox?”
Orange and Greenie stared at it for a second. They were almost dumbfounded that their owner didn’t see anything wrong with it.
“Dat dummeh babbeh mummah. Owange an Gweenie nu wan dummeh babbeh.”
“WHAT!?!”
Silvia shouted. The newborn fluffies wiggled and peeped in fright.
“Pwease mummah, nu scawe chiwpy babbehs! Am onwe widdwe babbehs!”
“I fucking told you not to reject or neglect any of your babies!”
“Buh mummah! Dummeh babbeh nu smeww pwitty! Babbeh hab wingies an hownsies! Nu am gud babbeh! Pwease make dummeh babbeh gu way!”
“No! You’re going to give him milk and respect like all your other babies!”
“Nu! Dummeh babbeh nu take miwkies way fwom gud babbehs!”
Greenie chimed in.
“Pwease daddeh, Gweenie am scawed of dummeh babbeh! Pwease put back in wittabox wif poopies untiw take fowevah sweepies.”
“You’re suggesting I kill it?!?” What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
“Mummah nee miwkies fo bestest babbeh! Dummeh babbeh take miwkies fwom gud babbehs an gib gud babbehs tummie owwies! Nu wan!”
“I swear if you don’t feed this foal right now I’ll make sure neither of you get spaghetti again.”
They both stamp their little hoofpads.
“Mummah!”
“Not another word.”
Silvia puts the alicorn on Orange’s nipple and he gets to suckling.
“Huhu, nu wike dummeh babbeh…”
“Your other babies need time to explore their saferoom anyway.”
For the next week or so, Orange was reluctant to feed her alicorn, but did so at Silvia’s demand anyway. As the foals began to open their eyes and talk like their parents, their manes began to grow in and they explored their saferoom and got to know each other. They shared toys, had fluff piles and learned to eat kibble and spaghetti together while weening from their milk. The alicorn rarely seemed to play with the others, though, and generally preferred being alone.
After a week Silvia noticed he was displaying higher than average intelligence for a fluffy. Actually stacking blocks instead of just knocking them down, using more complex words, and even started using the litterbox before his siblings.
Speaking of litterbox, Silvia left some newspaper scattered around the saferoom for the inevitable accidents that would occur with the foals, since they hardly knew what “good poopies” even were yet. So while the alicorn was already potty trained, his siblings continued to just plop whenever they got the urge to.
“Bwuey make poopies!”
“Poopies nu smeww pwitty.”
Silvia got the foals to ask Orange and Greenie to help them over the wall of the litterbox until they would be big enough to step over themselves, and took away the newspaper. But accidents still happened, due to a combination of natural fluffy poor bowel control and just forgetting. And often the fluffy parents and their babies would blame the “poopie monster.” Then one day Silvia walked in to find the horribly-named Poopie squeezing one out right in the middle of the saferoom floor.
“Poopies aww done!” he exclaimed before running after a ball.
“Orange and Greenie, get over here.”
“Mummah otay?”
“Who shit here?”
“Gud babbehs nu make bad poopies mummah! Dat dummeh babbeh make bad poopies!”
“Think you can fool me? I saw the brown one doing it.”
Great, now they’re scapegoating the alicorn.
“P-poopie babbeh, nee make gud poopies in wittabox fwom nao on.”
“Otay daddeh, poopie onwe poopie in wittabox.”
Thursday was spaghetti night and all the fluffies gathered around cheeping and squealing in anticipation. Silvia plopped a helping of pasta in each of the seven fluffies individual bowls. The unnamed alicorn’s bowl next to Orange Jr’s, the little orange foal couldn’t help but notice his horned, winged brother had two extra meatballs than him.
“Nu faiw! Why dummeh babbeh get mowe sketties? Sketties am fo gud babbehs!”
“Stop calling your brother that, his bowl is the same size as yours. I’m going to go start the tub to give you guys your bath after dinner.”
“YAY BAFFY WAWA TIME!” Bluey cheered.
“Huhu, poopie nu wike wawas.”
Silvia walked down the hall to the bathroom, and set the faucet in the bathtub to the perfect slightly-warm temperature for delicate fluffy foals. Silvia walked back down to the saferoom and opened the door to a commotion.
The allicorn was peeping and begging for help while Orange and Greenie dragged him away from his bowl of pasta by his back legs. His siblings were gathered around his bowl helping themselves to the rest of his meal.
“NU! SKETTIES! SIBWINGS EAT AWW OF BABBEH’S SKETTIES! EAT YU OWN SKETTIES! MUMMAH HEWP! CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP”
“Dummeh wingie hownie babbeh nu desewbe sketties! Onwe gud babbehs nummeh sketties!”
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOING?!?!”
The fluffies panicked and jumped. They didn’t want momma to catch them in the act.
“How dare you!? You two are horrible parents! You fucking shitrat brats!”
“Huhu, nu wike meanie wowds mummah!”
“Too fucking bad, you were taking away your foal’s food!”
“B-bu dummeh babbeh haf tu much sketties mummah! Gud babbehs nee mowe! Nee gwow up big an stwong!”
"That’s it, your “dummy baby” will be the only one getting spaghetti from now on! None of you are getting spaghetti again until you learn to treat your baby right! Dry kibble every day for everyone else!
“NUUU! MUMMAH PWEASE! WAN SKETTIES!”
“SHUT UP! You’re bad fluffies, and bad fluffies don’t get spaghetti!”
“Huhu, mummah nu wuv gud babbehs! Mummah onwe wuv dummeh babbeh! Owange am ANGWY ANGWY ANGWY!”
She stamps her little hoofpads on the floor in a tantrum. Silvia scoops up the rest of the spaghetti into the alicorn’s bowl and takes him into her room.
“Fank ou fo sketties mummah! Mummah an daddeh fwuffies am meanies! Sibwings am meanies! Wan neu fowevah homsies!”
“Don’t worry little guy, I’ll make sure they don’t bother you from now on. The others are starting to show their true colors. I might think about getting rid of them and just keeping you once you don’t need milk anymore.”
“WEAWWY? Fank ou mummah! Babbeh wuv ou!”
“Thanks little guy, by the way I haven’t thought of a name for you yet. You have the prettiest rainbow colored mane and tail I’ve ever seen, how does the name Rainbow sound?”
“Wainbow wuv neu namesies!”