It didn’t take too long for Jitters to find a decently sized shoe box in his closet. Taking a soft washrag, he made a cozy little bed for the infant.
“There, that should work for a bit.” He says, offering a small, tired smile as he placed the now fed foal into the makeshift nest.
The alicorn squeaked, his little head wobbling as it tried to figure out his surroundings. While he got acclimated to the new nest, Jitters made himself an easy microwave dinner. He was far too tired to make anything else tonight.
After eating his meal and watching the foal curl up and settle into the nest, Jitters carefully picked up the shoe box and carried it to his room, setting the container and the foal inside safely on his desk.
“Alright, alarm is set, I’ll feed you when it goes off… Goodnight, little guy, sweet dreams…” He yawns, turning out the light before climbing into bed.
An hour and a half passes before Jitter’s alarm goes off. Groaning, he reaches a hand over to his phone resting on his night stand. After a couple of attempts, he manages to dismiss the alarm in his half-asleep state before rolling back over to continue sleeping.
You are a foal. You were in a new nestie. It was soft, and after snuggling down into it for a bit it became warm and cozy. You dreamed of Mummah. Her lovely songs, her soft fur, and her sweet, tasty milkies. You were drifting in and out of your wonderful dreams when a loud sound startled you awake. What was that?!
You realize it’s dark. Even with your eyes too tired to open, you could tell it was darker than before you had fallen asleep. That scared you even more. The Monster groans, and moves. The loud noise stops. You peep in fear. You were alone. You weren’t supposed to be alone! Especially not in the dark!
On top off that, you felt your tummy gurgle. You were hungry. The milkies you had earlier weren’t as good as Mummah’s, but they were better than nothing. You peep, crying in hunger. Where was mummah? Where was the monster? You’d take either of them if it meant you could fill your tummy and stop the growing hurties.
But no matter how much you cry out and beg, you get no answer.
You are so lonely, so scared, so… hungry…
Hours pass, the sunlight begins to filter in through the windows. A second alarm goes off. Jitter’s regular morning alarm. Groggily getting up, he checks the time on his phone before realizing he’d forgotten something. Something important. His eyes drift over to the shoe box on his desk.
“OH FUCK-”
Jumping out of bed, he rushes over to his desk, looking down into the makeshift nest, hoping, praying that the foal was still alive. It peeped hoarsely.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck I am SO sorry! I forgot to fucking feed you-holy shit, hang in there, kid!”
He rushed into the kitchen, setting the nest on the table before frantically rinsing out the bottle from the previous night and preparing some more foal formula using the microwave. Fuck warming it up on the stove again or using careful measurements, this thing needed food NOW. Hastily shaking it up and checking the temperature of the liquid, he picked up the limp foal and pressed the bottle to it’s snout.
“C’mon, c’mon, eat! Please don’t die on me now, Loretta will never let me hear the end of it if you do!” He said, worrying his lip with his teeth as he carefully squirted some drops into the alicorn’s mouth. It took a moment, but after weakly swallowing down a mouthful of the milky formula, the starving foal squirmed with desperation to latch and drink as much milk as it could.
“Ohhh, thank the fucking stars, you’re still alive!” Jitters sighs in relief. “I’m so sorry, little guy, I totally dropped the ball with that alarm…” It felt silly, apologizing to a living toy that totally didn’t comprehend anything he was saying, but he still felt bad that he damn near neglected it to death… Again…
“Maybe Loretta was right. I’m really not prepared for this… You’re still alive though, so maybe I’m not all that bad of a dad?”
The foal kneads at the bottle, sucking down the frothy formula mixture as fast and hard as it can. Droplets of milk leaked from it’s mouth, dribbling down from the corners. He watched as the majority of the bottle became drained over a matter of minutes.
“Jeez, you really must’ve been starving, huh?”
Hungry. You were so hungry. You suckled at the not-tasty milkie place ravenously. You didn’t care if it didn’t taste sweet, or was watery with little clumps of thicker milk and bubbles. You needed to drink as much as you could to make the tummy hurties go away.
You hear the monster talking, he says he’s sorry for not feeding you. Maybe the monster didn’t know that babbehs need milkies? Well he knows now. You’re eating as much of these milkies as you can! The monster keeps talking, you don’t understand most of it, but one word is triggered in your mind. Dad. Daddeh? Was this monster supposed to be your Daddeh? If that was true, why did he not feed you earlier? Why did he leave you alone in the scary dark? You don’t get to ponder for too long because a thick clump of poorly mixed formula gets caught in your throat.
You pop off of the nipple to cough, almost choking from drinking too fast. It takes a bit to swallow and cough past the powdery clump, but you manage. You felt the milkie place trying to leave. NO! DON’T LEAVE! You still needed more! You didn’t know when you’d get another chance to have milkie nummies! You peep loudly and scrabble to latch on again, biting down on the nipple with your weak, soft gums in hopes of anchoring yourself and keeping the milkie place with you.
You keep drinking, packing away as many nummies as you can. Your tummy is starting to hurt again, but differently this time. It has a too full feeling, and cramps something awful. You cry, your lower jaw trembling. You wanna burp, but you can’t. The monster-Daddeh? Whatever he is, strokes your back.
“Uh… You okay there?”
No, you are not okay. You are far from okay. You cry, spitting up frothy milk bubbles that gather around the corners of your mouth. Your tummy gurgles, and you try to burp.
Except instead of burping, you gag.
Frothy milk spews out of your mouth. You can’t breathe. You cough, and before you can even hope to recover your tummy clenches and you throw up more of your precious milkie nummies. It feels awful, your body trembles in agony. Everything feels horrible. You gasp and cough, and your tummy lurches again.
You ate too much, too fast, and now your tummy was giving you the worstest hurties for it. Your poopie place throws up too, making you smell not pretty. Your Daddeh-monster thingie shouts, making a scary noise as he moves away. You cry, begging him not to leave you. You need help! You don’t know what to do! You smell not pretty and you feel sickie! Please Daddeh, save babbeh!
You throw up again, your tummy cramping as you do. It doesn’t hurt as bad any more, but you’re pretty sure you vomited all your milkie nummies. You lie in a puddle of your poopies and sickie wawas, your lower jaw trembling as you whimper and gasp for air.
Daddeh comes back and picks you up with something soft. You hear him gag, and you hope he doesn’t make sickie wawas too. You’re carried away, and you hear running water. It terrifies you and you feel warm peepees leak all over your legs, but you don’t have the strength to scream or move. You hear shuffling, and then something warm and wet starts rubbing over you, cleaning away all the yucky feels.
“Easy now, easy, I got you. Just gotta clean you off…”
You were being given cleanies. Not licky cleanies, like Mummah’s, but cleanies nonetheless. Daddeh spoke softly and shushed you, wiping you down and making sure you didn’t have any more yuckies on you. You felt… Loved.
“Okay, so that was… A lot… Lesson learned. Gotta make sure you take breaks when eating.”
Jitters finishes bundling the freshly cleaned foal in a dry wash rag and looks at the mess left on his kitchen table. The milk had tiny chunks and a lot of froth in it, and dwarfed the small, creamy pile of crap by at least twice the quantity. Hindsight was 20/20 and he realized he definitely shouldn’t have rushed those formula measurements either.
Rinsing off the rag he used to clean the foal, he steps closer to set the trembling alicorn into his shoe box and begin cleaning up the rest of the mess. Only to stop and gag as a full body shudder goes through him thanks to stepping on a pooling puddle of vomit in socks.
Life was Hell and he was the devil’s silliest little clown.
ignoring your own alarm clock!