Ringo was starting to regret the long game. Ball had a pierced lung that filled with his blood. Ringo had to drag him to his work room when Ball started convulsing and Sky kept screeching. Ball had his chest sliced open and his already shattered ribs removed to pluck out his deflated lung. Ringo liked to do his work on awake patients but he didn’t want Ball to fear him, so he forced some whiskey down the battered rat’s throat. Pretty simple after that. Ball even got a fancy new metal plate in his chest so it didn’t collapse.
Ball was thoroughly fucked up. Half of his fluff needed to be shaved off, and more was ripped off earlier. He was still down an eye and now a lung. Long red gashes ran across his chest in a sideways cross pattern. Ringo once through a fluffy into a wood chipper and it managed to survive a few days with only its torso. Ball was definitely gonna live, he just wasn’t going to like it. The two feral animals also stank something rotten. They had been living in trash and shit, plus all Sky can do is empty most of her bowels onto herself. While Ball was still unconscious he got a nice scrubbing and some dry deodorant.
Ringo left Ball on his table and went back to lie down when Sky started up again. If it was something stupid he was going to stick his arm down her throat. Ringo stopped his way into the room to see Sky huffing and puffing.
“Daddeh, hewp fwuffy! Bigges poopies! Babbehs am comin!” Sky said between labored breaths and grunts. Nasty. Fluffies were pretty good at pushing their young out but Ringo was going to help anyway. He equipped a medical mask to battle the smell he was about to endure and twisted Sky around onto a towel. Just in time, Ringo caught the first little runt. It was such a lovely shade of puke green. Looked awfully small too. That was going to be its punishment then. Ringo placed the slimy newborn onto the towel.
The second came with similar fanfare and screaming. An artificial cheese yellow. Ringo took the small creature in his hands and put one of its back legs between his fingers. Foal bones are like rubber, but they snap pretty easily. The newborn tried to scream but didn’t even manage peeps or chirps. Ringo tossed the cripple down next to the runt.
The third was a nice opal color, complete with multiple colors sprinkled throughout a glossy white coat. A nice little horn poked out of its forehead. Freak, but Ringo reckoned it would be worth something. It remained unharmed.
The fourth was a brown bean. What to do, oh what to do… Ringo took the newborn in his fist and shook it a little, careful to support the thing’s neck. He wanted to raddle the brain not snap the limp neck. What effect would that have?
The fifth was a cyan like its mother. How sweet! What was even better was that the beast was an alicorn. Sky would likely not mind, but Ringo was sure that the children could be raised to fear monsters. Into the pile, it went.
The sixth and final one, my god there were so many, was funky looking son of a bitch. The other foals were squirming slightly and trying to find a nipple, but this thing just lay limp. Wasn’t dead either, probably just special. The newborn’s head was too big or its body was too small, its eyes were too far apart, and it had a flat nose and even stumpier legs than usual. Ringo thought about just popping its head, but if it lived it would be interesting.
“Tank yu daddeh Wingo…” Sky said, spinning around. Her big stupid eyes lit up at the sight of her litter. She sang and licked the slime off the messed-up litter. Ringo didn’t stick around to watch them nurse, but before he could leave Sky called after him.
“Daddeh Wingo, whewe goin? Babbehs am hewe! Whewe am Baww?”
“Well, that is exactly who I am going to get silly! When I get back Ball can watch the babies and you can get a bath!” Ringo left before he could hear how bad water is. Ball was awake but still wasn’t talking. He kind of reminded Ringo of a really old dog, half bald that could just lay down and wheeze. Fluffies can recover though. He would be better in less than two weeks. Scooping him he brought him back to his family. The reunion was swell.
“BAWW! WOOK! Fwuffies hab bestes babbehs eba!” Sky screamed while scooping up the cripple and the blue on in her arms. Ball let out a weak smile and managed to stand up after Ringo set him down. He stumbled over to his newborns. They were little more than wiggling worms that sought warmth and milk. Ringo scooped up Sky who was too weak to struggle from shitting out six kids.
“Daddeh, wawa am bad fow fwuffies… Babbeh nee miwkies…”
“Water is bad for BAD fluffies. If a fluffy is scared of water, it means they are bad.” Sky practically bit her tongue off in shock.
“Nu, nu wawa am su gud! Sky an Baww an babbehs am gud fwuffies!”
“Well, that is what I thought!” This lie made the bath significantly easier. Sky bit her lip and took the washing, which Ringo might have drawn out to make her a little nervous. Now that the new mother didn’t smell like absolute shit, Ringo dried her off.
“So, you’re going to be a good mama right Sky?”
“Sky am gon be da bestes mummah eba! Sky habs da bestes babbehs eba!”
“Oh, that is fantastic! That means that none of your babies will have any problems right? Because, if one of your babies is troubled, that would mean you might not be the best mama ever.” Sky looked horribly concerned and offended.
“Sky am gon be da bestes mummah wif da bestes babbehs!”
“Fantastic!” Ringo said while carrying Sky back to her room. Her babies took to greedily suckling immediately, even if Sky needed to help some of the less fortunate ones. Ringo left them to their devices. Foals are no fun until they can beg. Ringo left to plan.
Ball was full of conflicting emotions. The past few days had been a constant pain in every inch of his body. It was hard to breathe or move and he couldn’t even begin to speak. Ball was incredibly happy that his babies had finally been born. Some of them looked funny, but they would grow out of it.
However, Ball was mainly feeling incredible concern. When he was beaten in the woods he didn’t just pay attention to the monster’s face. The monster had the same clothes as their new daddy, the same scar on his hand that stabbed out Ball’s eye. The monster just might be, maybe, daddy Ringo. But, he was being so kind and gentle. He had taken care of Ball and Sky and the new babies. Maybe Ball was wrong, or maybe the monster had changed. Ball kept it in the back of his mind as he began to happily watch his new children.