Meet Rita, my new writing muse. A more cow-like Fluffalo, bred for milk and meat. Rita serves as a foster Mummah to orphaned foals.
It was already late, sun nearly set completely behind the horizon. The doors to a small barn swung open. Inside of the barn was modest, bales of hay and loose hay were all across the floor, a few big pet beds here and there. There was a long wooden feeder with one side filled with water and the other with pretty large kibbles. Even a designated poopie corner got its place in this barn.
A man rushed in, holding two Fluffy foals in his bare hands. One was just crying and didn’t resist being handled. The second foal was both crying and trying to bite the man’s hand, thrashing as much as it could.
- Rita! We have two bad ones coming up!
- Daddeh gib em tu Wita, am nou wat tu du. Hab fwesh miwkies tuu.
- All right girl, you know I trust you. But if they are gonna be really really bad…
- Wita am nu defen-ding vewy bad bebbehs, Wita nou.
The Fluffaloo cow was sitting comfortably on her haunches, exposing her pudgy underside with four teats brimming with milk. She was, all in all, rather ugly. Her coat was black with brown patches. Her mane was a washed out shade of purple, which matched her pale pink eyes. Her left eye was clearly blind, always looking up and to the side, covered with a white “shroud”. The bad eyeball was always twitching when she looked around with her good eye. Her skin was a strange, dark, bruise like color with purple undertone.
Two foals were brought in and to her feet, leaving them no space to wander. One was a very shy white pegasus filly, curling tightly into herself and quietly sobbing. The other was a fighty earthie colt, doing his best punches and kicks, why this dummy human took him and sissie away from Mummah? She was just having long sleepies, she was about to wake up!
Rita gestured to give the pegasus right to her, so she could hold her close and rock the little one gently in her arms (well, front leggies). White tuft of fluff looked so small compared to Rita, a proper grown Fluffaloo cow. Pegasus snuggled herself into Rita’s leg, facing away from everything. She wasn’t ready yet. The memories of Mummah… She was lying there cold, just as if asleep. And the sudden gaping hole that erupted in the little filly’s heart. The instinctive knowledge her Mummah would never wake up, she was gone and so was little filly’s world. The immeasurable weight of sadness and panic smacked down her heart and mind, little pegasus couldn’t do anything besides mourning the loss of life as she knew it.
The feisty boy might have been crying all the tears in the world, but he was not giving up his fight. He was gonna get them out of there, find Mummah and wake her up.
Rita looked down at him with a gentle half smile. She knew that foals that just lost their mothers were that much more heart hurty and thinky place hurty. To them it was a sudden lightning from the clear sky, tearing apart what they knew and took comfort in. This little colt was just so full of it - he was very confused, to the point of denying the reality; and he was so scared, but masked it by being aggressive.
Most of all, he was exhausted by the whole day of life-altering storm and getting violently dragged away from home into the unknown. Rita was sure he was hungry out of his mind, even if he didn’t feel it thanks to adrenaline rushing through him. All it always took was just getting the foal to try the milk. They might be hesitant due to Fluffaloo milk being less sweet and more fatty, but once their body recognized it’s high nutriment, let’s just say, they were sold on it.
- Hewwou widdle babbeh cowt. Am Wita an am be yu tempo-waw-wy Mummah.
- Nu! Kweew (Clear) hab Mummah! Mummah jus sweepies wots, buh aw-wais wakies ap!
- Oh weawwy? Buh wat if Mummah nu wakies? Yu an sissie need miwkies!
- Dummeh! Mummah aw-wais wakies ap fow bebbehs!! Mummah ams jus sweepies! Cuz! Cuz! Nice mistah gib Mummah speshul sketties! Sketties am gud fow Fwuffies!
- Kweew hunnii bebbeh, speshul sketties…? Nice mistah ams munstah mistah. De’w am nu speshul sketties… Yu Mummah am foeba sweepies. Mistah gib Mummah bad nummies…
- NU! NU AM TWUE! MUMMAH AM SWEEPIES! JUS SWEEPIES!! KWEEW NU WAN MUMMAH TO BE FOEBA SWEEPIES!! KWEEW WAN MUMMAH TU BE BACKSIES!! MUMMAH!! MUMMAAAAAAAH!! BWAAAAHAAUUHAUUUHUUUU!!
And so the bubble bursted. The act was finally down and the little colt could let out all his loss and sadness. Rita saw plenty of those acts before and they never lasted. Those were still just babies for Heaven Daddeh’s sake. They should not have gone through so much heart hurties so young in the first place.
Rita was massive in stature compared to standard Fluffy babies, but at the same time she was a master of being gentle and careful. She put down the white pegasus by her teats. Little kneading here and there, and tiny droplets of milk sailed smoothly down her dark skin. Teary-eyed pegasus looked up at what seemed like a dark mountains full of milkies. They looked very enticing to the hungry filly, yet scary due to the size of the owner of said milkies. Rita leaned down to the filly and spoke in a half whisper.
- Wita nou dat am wookin scawy, buh Wita nu gon’ huwt widdle babbehs. Wita am Mummah tu awowne bebbehs. Wita wub yu vewy muchies. Yu an bwudda can dwink aww da miwkies fwom Wita. Yu can caww Wita Mummah eef yu wan. Wita aw’wais happi to gib bebbehs miwkies, huggies, wicky cweanies too. Wita wub yu vewy muchies…
She gently patted the filly with her big hoof. Pegasus was still very unsure, but much less scared. Rita decided to allow little one to consider things on her own and turned to now spent and sobbing colt.
Oh he was now a heap of fine mess. All cried out, wet from tears and peeing himself, and well, also pretty muddy from pooping himself. That was more than fine by Rita - Clear and his sister arrived rather clean for ferals, but her tongue would have made quick work of it anyways. Just her tongue was big enough to lick a standard baby WHOLE from one side. She never minded the bad taste either, it was somehow natural and thus fine to her. Like the taste of grass or dirt.
Fluffaloo picked up the limp colt in her hooves and brought him close to her muzzle.
- Shoooosh, shooosh widdle babbeh… It am okay. It am gon’ be okay. Wita gon’ protecc yu an sissie untiw yu gwow big an stwong. Wita gon’ teech yu an sissie haow be gud stwong Fwuffies. Mummah in Skettie Wand am happi an pwoud ob yu an sissie, su bwave aw weady.
- Hic… Sob… Buh… Buh yu am su beeg… an an… ugwy… Hic… Sca… Scawy…
- (soft chuckle) Wita nou am nu su pwetty, buh dat am okay. Som times fwuffy can be ugwy buh dat nu mean fwuffy am bad. Nu wowwy nao widdle babbeh. Eef Wita am bad, yu gon’ nou it in yu heawtsie. Heawtsie aw’wais teww twoof. Yu need west nao, yu jus a widdle babbeh. Wita wiww gib wickie cweanies.
- Nuuu… Nuuu wickie cweanies…
Rita chuckled to herself again and proceeded regardless of the attempted protest. It appeared that Clear, despite his name, wasn’t a big fan of being cleaned. A few gentle licks later the fuss was over, the foal was cleaned and calmed down.
Cow placed the baby colt by her teats and next to his sister. White pegasus was examining the dark breast - it felt all right and the smell of good milkies was there… but that dark, dark skin. Those were not the pinky pale teats of her Fluffy Mummah.
- Wi… Witah?..
- Yus me widdle sweetie puff-puff?
- Wai… Wai Witah miwky pwaces am su dawk? Su scawy… Wook wike wen Cowton (Cotton) got huwties an hab booboo pwace (bruise)…
- Cottun ees a vewy nais namesie. Wita jus hab dawkie fwuff an skeen wike dat. Nu am huwties ow sickies, nu wowwy widdle sweetie babbeh.
- Oohh… Dat am otay den… Fank yu…
Cotton slunk down to the nipple and sheepishly got herself onto it. To her surprise, Rita’s nipple wasn’t as big or as girthy as Cotton anticipated. The milkies were kind of a little bland, but really good to a starving foal all the same.
Clear observed his sister through half opened eyes. Milkies… That’s right, milkies! He hasn’t have any all day! Little colt finally realized how hungry and exhausted he was. Seeing his sister drink milkies so carefully and calmly gave him the courage to also give it a try. He placed himself comfortably on the other teat, which also served him as a big beanbag. The foal was both suckling the milk and lying down on a soft, squishy and warm breast. The sheer comfort of feeding and warmth gave the siblings much needed feeling of safety.
Rita sighed with relief. These two can be raised into good Fluffies that would surely get a good human Mummah or Daddeh in the future. They were a classic case of scared and confused, nothing which time couldn’t heal. Time and good upbringing. And they would be getting both.
But not every time was this lucky. Sometimes the foals were brought in from bad feral herds, full of nasty behaviors and equally foul attitude. There was one that left Rita a different Fluffaloo than before. She dreamed of those events for so long, she stopped calling them nightmares. They became her internal entrapment, her deep scar in the heart. She was younger, more naive and less wary. She let one too close and of course it ended terribly. She knew it was bad from the start, but… what if they just needed more time, more effort, more anything. Her good heart has lead her right into the beast’s maw.
With the foals cleaned, fed, and asleep mid-suckle, Rita herself began dozing off. At first it was a brief dreamless sleep that was disrupted by a familiar voice calling her name. When she awoke, there was nobody beside her and the foals.
She decided to lay down to make herself more comfortable, but also curl around little Fluffies to keep them calm and comforted. She brought the foals to one of the big pet beds, carefully, one by one, and then lied beside them. The cow curled her rear legs up and front legs down to encompass the two wads of fluff.
She fell asleep again, this time dreaming the ever so familiar scenes from her past.
- Eef Wita wub […] su muchies, Wita wood show it…
- Huh? Hao Wita show wub tu […]?
- Wita an […] touch speshul pwaces togeder, maek weaw enfies.
- Buh enfies gib bebehs! Wita nu can hab bebbehs…
- Oh nu wowwy abowt eet, […] nous wat tu du eef yu hab tummeh babbehs.
… - […]!! […]!! Pwease, tummeh gettin biggaw an biggaw! Nu can hide eet nu mow! Wat if Daddeh Tweestan (Tristan) see?!
- Yu am wite, tummeh too beeg. Com wif […], gon’ stop tummeh babbehs fwom gwowin mowe.
- Okai speshul fwend…
… - OWWIEES! OW! OWW! […]! DIS AM SU MUCH HUWTIES!! WITA NU WAN DIS NU MOWE! HUUHUUU! HUU HUU!
- SHADDAP COW! JUS ONE MOWE KEECK! WIGHT DEWE!
- SCRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!
- YUS EET WOWKED! DUMMEH TUMMEH BABBEHS AM AUT OF DA SPESHUL PWACE!
The hazy glance down revealed a gruesome scene of gore and relish in infanticide.
She was soaked in fluids and blood, bits and pieces of torn lining and her own unborn foals were strewn across her field of view.
She looked at whom she considered her special friend. His face was not that of a scared and confused failed parent. He didn’t look like what he was doing was out of desperation and fear.
He was smiling. Enjoying the moment.
He dragged their underdeveloped foals and stomped them until only splatter remained.
Her heart sank, no, broke in half for the first time in her life. She had no power to stop this, he kicked her in the belly so much and so hard.
And then there was his menacing statue, towering over her. His hooves pressing down on her belly and teats, kneading out whatever could be left in her.
The last thing she felt before she passed out from pain and exhaustion, was the overwhelming realization of what has happened. It made her vomit out of disgust. Disgust she had for herself, her mate, and the truth that she agreed to all of this. She should have told Daddeh Tristan…
Rita jolted up from her horrific dream with shaky legs, her cheeks wet from tears. Little foals were still asleep. Just another morning in her usual paradise by day, nightmare by night. It was time to get up, drink some water and check if the humans were already up and about. The sun was already up, but it hasn’t warmed the earth just yet. Maybe if she brought good news on the foals it would snap her out. Out of the memories of her past.
Maybe taking a couple of breaths with the morning air would freshen her up into another new day. Clear and Cotton needed a good Mummah if they were to grow strong. They got a chance to grow up and live their lives fully. She couldn’t let it go to waste.
I’m fucking up this Fluffalo girl and then I’m forcing her to face her trauma. I want some good Mummah with traumatic past.