The first day that Pistol and Sally shared at home together could be described as wholesome. The green stallion and dark blue mare spent the day cuddling, singing at freshly implanted zygotes, and napping, along with an extra round of enfies suggested by Dave to “ensure you have the most babbehs so they can receive the most love possible”
The first day could also be described as one of acclimatization, as Pistol had to figure out how to move turds from the litterbox to the garbage can while consuming as little poo as possible. At the same time, Pistol learned how to use the litterbox, but after realizing that he had to move his own poopies to the garbage every time he used the litterbox, he quickly decided (after asking Dave for help) that he would need to carefully balance next to the garbage bin to poop into it. Finally, Pistol ended up having to make five food trips that day before Sally declared that she had had enough nummies shortly before she went to bed, cuddled into a tight fluff pile with Pistol.
Dave on the other hand, was genuinely surprised at Pistol’s willingness to embrace his new role. Dave had actually figured there was an appreciable chance that Pistol would refuse to clean out turds at all, although there was still plenty of time for Pistol to change his mind before the foals were born and weaned.
Most of the days of Sally’s fourteen day pregnancy were broadly similar, with the two fluffies spending the majority of their time together, with much of that devoted to singing at Sally’s upcoming foals. As time went on, Pistol was spending more and more of his time going back and forth either delivering Sally’s kibble, or removing her turds. By the twelfth day, it was obvious that Pistol was running himself ragged. By this point Sally was huge, much larger than most pregnant fluffies would ever be, obviously a result of what would surely be a massive litter of foals. Since Sally was no longer able to move herself around, she needed Pistol to roll her wherever she needed to go, mostly just between the bed, the large food bowl nailed to the floor, and the litterbox, where she was now producing, much to Pistol’s dismay, nearly human sized turds. And so, in addition to bringing her food and removing her waste, an exhausted Pistol was now also spending even more of his day rolling her around. Nonetheless, Pistol kept at it, almost as if caring for Sally and her soon to come litter was his sole purpose in life.
Perhaps stranger still was how Sally was acting. Instead of acting like an entitled bitch of a dam as so many pregnant fluffies do, Sally seemed acutely aware of how hard Pistol was working, and thanked him for every last thing he did for her and more.
“Pistow am bestest speshul fwend! Tank yu Pisow fow mummeh nummehs to make babbehs gwow big an stwong!”
“Tank yu Pistow fow gib gud wolly-pushies so Sawwy can make gud poopies!”
“Soon-daddeh gib da bestest cuddle-huggies tu soon-mummeh an tummy babbehs!”
In turn, Pistol genuinely acted like he was living the dream. When he wasn’t hauling food or turds or rolling Sally around, the green unicorn would be cuddling her or singing to her belly, only occasionally stopping to dash out to the food machine and stuff his face as fast as he could, apologizing to Sally and her tummy babbehs for being gone on his return.
“Pistow su sowwy Pistow webe Sawwy awone, Pistow hab tummy-owwies an nee nummies. Pistow be wight backies bestest fwend!”
“Pistow nu mean be gone su wong, meanie poopie pwace huwties make poopies take fowebah, am Sawwy-fwend stiww okay?”
By the morning of the day before Sally foaled, Dave was downright confused. Surely a random feral stallion would have been fed up with the whole ordeal by now, but not only was Pistol still doing everything to take care of Sally, but he hadn’t complained once, only occasionally huu-huu-ing when he carried feces in his mouth. Dave was, flatly, a bit put off by this, and decided to call in a specialist.
Doctor Mongolia arrived early the next day (money tends to make things like that happen) and after introductions, was quickly brought over to the safe room. “Pistol? Sally? I’ve brought a friend here to meet you. Josef is a doctor and he’s here to make sure that the two of you and your tummy-babbehs are healthy.”
The doctor took his time examining both fluffies, poking and prodding the green unicorn and blue earthy somewhat roughly, asking them questions, and even taking some blood samples for testing (largely for his own curiosity) before he finally left the safe room to speak with Dave.
“This is remarkable Dave,” Josef started, “I checked Pistol thoroughly, and he seems perfectly healthy, no brain damage or anything. Other than the sloppy amputations and the fact that he’s lactating, there’s nothing wrong with him, his intelligence is only slightly higher than expected, and my professional opinion is that he’s powerfully motivated by what he perceives as the duties of fatherhood.”
“Huh” was the only response Dave could initially offer, until he finished processing everything he had just heard, “Wait, amputations? What amputations?”
“His wing stumps,” Josef answered, “they almost look like they were removed by pliers, or another fluffy bit them off. Some feral mothers will try to ‘fix’ their alicorn foal by removing the horn or wings. Pistol must have been lucky as nearly every single time it happens, the foal dies when the mother tries to ‘help’ like that.”
Dave was still baffled, “Alicorn? What?”
Josef rolled his eyes before stepping out of the room and returning a moment later holding Pistol, who seemed very agitated. Pulling Pistol’s fluff back, Josef reveled two short stumps on the fluffy’s back, twitching about as Pistol tried to see what the humans were looking at. “See? His mom probably bit them off when he was little so that other fluffies wouldn’t try to kill him. So as I was saying, his intelligence is about what I would expect for an feral alicorn of his age, although even for an alicorn, the little rat is determined.”
Dave was about to ask further questions, when his train of thought was nuked from orbit by Sally screaming, “BIGGEST POOPIES!”
“Let me guess,” Josef said with a sidelong look at Dave, “You want my help with that too?”
“Put it on my tab.” Dave sighed.
An hour later it was over, with Sally having birthed no fewer than thirteen foals, described in Dr. Mongolia’s notes as,
- unicorn male, solid green
- earth female, solid green
- unicorn male, solid green
- alicorn male, green with blue mt (mane and tail)
- earth male, solid light grey
- alicorn male, yellow with light blue mt
- alicorn male, purple with light blue mt
- earth male, green with yellow mt
- pegasus male, solid blue
- unicorn female, solid brown
- alicorn female, solid blue
- alicorn female, solid white
- earth male, solid blue, runt
Throughout the delivery, both parents managed to surprise the humans in attendance. After briefly panicking, once the first foal was out, Pistol wanted to see it right away after it was toweled off before presenting it to Sally himself and then placing it on a teat to nurse. He did this for each foal in turn, allowing each of them at least some milk before he rotated them off into a rapidly growing fluffpile against sally’s belly. Sally, for her part, acknowledged each foal, smelling each and amazingly, accepting all of them. The alicorns were described as “wook wike munsta, but nu am munsta, am gud babbeh!” while the runt was announced as “Dis babbeh bewy widdwe, nee miwkies an wub tiw gwow wike bwuttahs an sistas.” Even the brown one was accepted, as “Babbeh am wook wike poopie, bu smeww suuuu pwetty! Mus be gud babbeh!”
By then end, Dave was just staring in open mouthed shock, at which point Pistol noticed he was lactating and started to help breastfeed the foals, or as he put it, “Pistow am miwkie fwuffie? Pistow nu nee no why, jus nee hewp feed babbehs!”
At that, even Doctor Mongolia took pause, before noting, “Yeah, if you give a male fluffy the mumma-milkies kibble, they’ll sometimes start lactating. Although now that he’s started giving milk, as long as he keeps nursing the foals, he’ll keep producing milk, even if you put him back on normal food.” With Dave hardly responding, Josef then saw fit to see himself out.