You are Vicky. As you take your early morning walk with Pickman , a sense of unease perches itself in the back of your mind. The last couple of weeks have bombarded your usual thought clearing strolls with bullshitery of the highest caliber. So much so that you debate stopping them all together. What fresh hell awaits you this time? A beached whale? A rhinoceros sized unicorn smarty? You should have reached near enlightenment levels of not giving a rats after the last incident but still the possibility that it could indeed get worse kept you on alert. Today’s walk was actually rather peaceful, you had almost reached the porch of the main farmhouse when the harpy like shrieks of a mare assaulted your ears with a Landry list of demands. You mutter a prayer under your breath.“ Jesus Christ in heaven, shackle my wrath for my trials are many and my patience is thin.” You turn around to see a feral lavender Pegasus mare carrying the fattest foal you have ever seen on her back. Spherical in shape and nearly softball sized . Cheeks so fat that they obscured its closed eyes Like a morbidly obese laughing Buddha statue. You take the pepto-bismal pink foal away from the mother and send the mare to Lorna for evaluation. You honestly feel bad for the foal, he’s so fat that his legs can’t even touch the ground because of his massive belly. Zoey’s hands are full right now and anything other than a medical examination will be on one of the other farmhands. “ Oo nga naman Miss vanderholt I take good care of fat baby!” Mirasol despite her appearance was by far your most trusted farmhand. Mirasol wore a pair of denim overalls, A brown tank top, A straw sun hat and close toed sandals. People often underestimated Mirasol because of her heavy accent and small frame but this 103 pound Filipina was more than capable of filling almost any role needed on the farm, and if she couldn’t do something it was most likely something highly specialized or physically impossible for someone of her stature.
(Perspective switch) you are Mirasol. The fat baby was now your sole responsibility, you wanted desperately to have children of your own but that wasn’t in the cards right now. You name the fat baby Bato for he was round and heavy like a moss covered stone . Getting Bato’s weight under control was long yet simple process, Bato’s legs could not support his weight so instead of risking damage you simply cut back his milk intake. Bato chirped and peeped begging for more milk. Even knowing it was for Bato’s own good, you had to fight your maternal instincts through the entire process. Soothing Bato with lullabies and gentle hugs seemed to ease his dietary transition. While still chonker Bato had slimmed down enough over the past week to where he could walk without risk of damaging his legs.the fact that his legs can touch the ground is a miracle in and of itself so you consider it acceptable progress for the time being. When Bato opened his eyes you realized something was very wrong . His pupils were at least half the size of a fluffy his size. Simply looking at Bato was uncomfortable. This time your maternal instincts worked in your favor allowing you to push past the uncomfortable look of Bato’s undersized pupils and love him without hindrance. Bato loved snuggles, hugs and kisses far more than toys or exploring. It was an extreme rarity for Bato to ever leave your side not counting liter box visits of course. There were times when Bato was defiant or mean especially after his started talking but you never let him get away with such behavior, feeding him fluffy mush instead of his regular kibble did wonders to curb his aggression and defiance.Bato lost quite a bit of weight while on fluffy mush. But he was still a big boy even at his healthiest. All the extra milk he was consuming before being placed in your care had made him grow exponentially bigger not just in weight but in overall frame as well. Bato was only about a month old at this point but his size was comparable to a 5 or 6 month old fluffy.
Aside from the aforementioned defiance phase, Bato was a gentle giant. There came a day when Bato met his mother again. To say she was less than thrilled with the interaction would be an understatement. Oh she definitely recognized Bato but the mare now named ruby, viewed him as a soft and incapable stallion, blaming you for ruining her “bestist-bestist babbie “ it was as though she had given birth to a demigod and you had made him a mere mortal after stealing him away in his infancy. “Ugwy dummy hooman mawe makei mummas bestist-bestist babbie be Dummy babbie!!! “ ruby looks over Bato and commands him to follow her so she can “fix” him. “Nu.” Bato says sternly. Ruby looks over angrily at Bato “mumma teww Dummy babbie tu come with mumma!”
Ruby tries to intimidate Bato by screaming at him. Bato doesn’t even acknowledge her . Ruby furious at the situation charges at you and rears back for sorry hoofsies. Bato steps between you and ruby blocking the attack. Ruby looks up to see bato with blood dripping from a busted nose, stoic and unflinching.
Bato long since fully grown ,towers over his fluffy mumma .the size difference alone makes Ruby evacuate her bowels in sheer terror. “B…But wuby am mumma. Babbie w…wisen tu mumma. Ow mumma….” Bato looks ruby dead in the eye .
“Ow mumma du what.?”
Ruby realizing she’s severely outmatched,slinks backwards with her tail between her legs until she was out of sight.
Ruby learned first hand that the restraint of one’s power is not the same as lacking power. People often mistake meekness with weakness but the difference between them is more vast than the ocean.