“Here we are. Home sweet home!”
Nick set the dog carrier down in the safe room, watching the caramel brown mare wince as the harsh fluorescent lights flickered on. The room wasn’t much, a small bedroom adjacent to the homes entrance. But every facet of the room was thought out. Plastic sheeting over shag carpeting made an ideal floor for soft hooves, while bright shapes and colors had been spray painted on the walls with stencils, forming a cheery facade of smiling faces that shone down at the mare as she crawled out and gasped with joy. Every single saferoom need had been addressed at the lowest possible price.
“Am did safewoom weawwy aww fow’ See-wup an babbeh?”
Nick nodded, faking a smile as the mare excitedly pranced around the small room, giggling as her feet sank into the plastic covered carpet. “Fwoow feew suuuuuuu nicie!” She was followed by her babbeh, the fat little colt chirping and half waddling, half crawling his way towards the sounds of his mummah. It took every ounce of willpower in Nick to not kill the foal right at that moment. Every fiber of his being was rejecting its existence, screaming out at him that the foal must be destroyed. But Nick considered himself a professional. The foal would meet its end in time, but not before its purpose had been fulfilled.
A sudden tightening around his shin surprised him, looking down to see the brown mare tightly hugging his leg. “sniff tank ‘ou su muchies fow’ nice housie daddeh.” She nuzzled her head into his leg, leaving a grimy smear on his cargo pants. “See-wup gonna gib aww da best huggies, an’ wub, an’ -“
Nick interrupted her with a chin scratch, forcing her mouth closed as she leaned into the physical comfort. “That’s great, but isn’t there someone else who needs a lot of huggies and love?”
The mare gasped, her and Nick both looking over to see the foal wriggling on the ground in discomfort. He had managed to trail his mummah for only a few feet, the effort of dragging his own fat body leaving him huffing and chirping in distress. With a soft squeal he shit himself, a loose milky sludge pouring from his ass and pooling in the depression he formed in the plastic sheet, coating his body as he wallowed around.
“Teehee, siwwy babbeh, nu make poopies dewe!” Syrup giggled as she trotted up the foal, licking its face clean of a smear of shit before lifting it up and hugging it to her chest. Nick watched in disgust as the mare began humming an off key tune while she licked the colt clean, the foal giggling and cooing as its Mummahs tongue darted across its belly and in between its folds of fat. Nick felt bile rising in his throat as she licked her own son’s balls.
“Did your foal just make bad poopies?”
The mare stopped her grooming activities and looked at Nick with a knowing smile. “Babbeh am too widdwe fow wittah bawks, nu can make good poopies yet!”
Nick watched the fat orange colt coo, its tail wiggling furiously as its mummah finished its “lickie cleanies” and placed it by her crotchtits to feed. “I think it’s too big to be making bad poopies, Syrup. It’s also probably too old to be drinking milk still.”
Syrup giggled and rolled her eyes. “Babbeh am sens-a-tibe, nee’ wots an’ wots ob’ miwkies tu gwow up big an’ stwong!” Nick smirked, watching the foal knead the mares tears with his front hooves, a small dribble of milk escaping his lips and trickling down the side of his mouth. “He’s growing big alright.”
Syrup smiled, happily misunderstanding the praise her foal had received. “Am su pwoudies!” Nick forced a smile that came out as a grimace. It didn’t matter, fluffies may be great at facial recognition but they sucked at reading the nuances of expressions. “It’s getting reeeeeal late, good fluffies should be in bed asleep by now!”
Nick walked the pair around the room, pointing out the amenities to the mare as she trotted alongside him, colt nestled in between her shoulders. “Here’s the litter box….. here’s your bed…. Heres your food and water bowls, there’s no food now but I’ll bring some in the morning.”
Nick flipped switch on the nightlight, the cheap LEDs sending a large, smiling fluffy prancing across the wall surrounded by a field of flowers as the mare clapped with delight. “gasp Nightie wight am suuuu pwetty! Tankies daddeh!” She gripped his calf in a hug again. Nick shook his leg softly until she let go. “Alright, time for you to go to bed. Goodnight Syrup.” He turned the mare and gave her a small soft push towards the bed, watching as she curled around the foal in the stained cat bed. The room remained well lit from the nightlight, the mare smiling happily as the foal nuzzled up against her.
“Just don’t think about how your special friend died, okay? It’ll just give you the worst heart hurties.”
Nick smiled as he closed the door, leaning against it as he listened to the mare begin to quietly sob, her distress causing the foal to peep as well. Nick could have sat for hours, just listening to and enjoying their miserable duet, but he couldn’t right now. He had prep work to do.
—————————————————————
Syrup sniffled quietly, wrapped around the last of her family. The night had been hard, but eventually she had managed to choke back her tears long enough for her foal to fall asleep. Even though her nice new daddeh had warned her to not think about her special friend, she couldn’t help it. The more she tried not to think about him the more his face appeared in her thinkie place.
But she still had his legacy. She had their babbeh. She smiled as the colt stirred slightly in its slumber, its nubby little leggies kicking softly against her tummy. Her lastest, and therefore bestest. “Mummah am hewe, babbeh. Wub ‘ou suuuuu muchies!”
Syrup leaned down, softly licking the head of the foal who scrunched his face in annoyance at being awoken. His annoyance at losing sleep was quickly superseded by a different need.
“CHEEP!”
“Babbeh am hungies!” Syrup gasped, hauling herself onto her haunches to make it easier for the foal to find his way to her teats, giggling as he wriggled around until he found the nipple and latched.
“Mummah wub babbehs, babbeh wub mumm-“
BANG
The mare jumped slightly when the door swung open, her new daddeh holding an odd metal machine beneath his arms. The foal squealed in fright, spurting an arc of poopies that splattered noisily to the floor, joining the mess from the prior night that had been left to crust. Daddeh gave her a disappointed look.
“Syrup…”
Syrup felt her heart drop. “Babbeh am too widdwe daddeh…”Even though she knew he was a babbeh, she still felt immense guilt at the mere thought of bad poopies. Her daddeh looked at her disapprovingly.
“Bad poopies are still bad poopies Syrup. You’ll need to clean them up yourself.” Syrup stared blankly. Cleaning was not something fluffies really understood. Luckily, her daddeh saw the blank look on her face and gave her a warm smile. He placed the odd device down on the ground as he crouched next to the mare, scratching behind her ears as she began to wag her tail.
“You’ll need to give ‘wickie cweanies’ to the floor.”
Syrup gasped. “Dats ickies! Nu wan! Nu wan!” Daddeh shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry Syrup, bad poopies are bad poopies, either you clean up the poopies, or your baby gets the sorry stick. It’s your choice.”
The choice between eating poopies and watching her sensitive baby get sorry sticked was easy. “See-wup num poopies! Nu sowwy stick! Nu sowwy stick! Babbeh too widdwe!” With a wave of his arm, Syrup’s daddeh gestured to the twin piles of poopies. “Get cleaning.”
Syrup walked up to the pile of poopies slowly, turning back to look at her daddeh every few steps, hoping he would change his mind. He stood, weighing the heft of a thin black rod while he gave it a few test swings, the whistling noise causing the mares heart to race. “What are you waiting for Syrup? I’ve got the sorry stick right here if you want to change your mind.”
That settled it. Syrup took a bite of the fresh pile. It had already cooled, cold and slimy in her mouth. The taste was terrible, without doubt the worst thing she’d ever put in her mouth, and she’d put questionable things in there as a feral. Had she eaten she would have thrown up, but as it were she could only dry heave, her tiny body shaking with each convulsion. She looked up at her daddeh, a small dribble of the foul substance dripping from the corner of her mouth. “Pwease daddeh… nu taste pwetty…”
Her daddeh shook his head sadly. “I understand.” Syrup let loose a sigh of relief. No more poopies.
THWACK
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee piiipiiipiiipiiipiiipiiipiii!”
Syrup watched in horror as her daddeh gave a hard lash to her babies backside, the tubby foal screeching and letting another deluge of feces spill out of his rear.
“That’s even more bad poopies, what a bad little baby.”
Syrup rocketed over , throwing her body over the foal to protect it. “NUU HUWT BABBEH! AM TO WIDDWE!” She began to sob, curling around her foal to save it from further lashing. She looked up at her daddeh with tears falling from her eyes. “Wai huwt babbeh? Am onwy widdwe babbeh!”
Daddeh poked her in the side with the sorry stick. “You said you didn’t want to clean up the poopies. I told you it was either you clean them up, or your baby gets the sorry stick. And YOU-“ he poked her in the chest with the stick for emphasis, “said you don’t want to ‘num’ the poopies. This was your choice.”
It took a few moments for the train of logic to dock in the mares mind, but once it did, she steeled herself and stood up, walked to the pile of poopies, and began to eat. Tears streamed down her face, making a soft plapping noise as they impacted the plastic sheeting. Syrup felt humiliated. “Just think about your baby!” Daddeh called to her from his position standing over the foal. “You give him ‘wickie cweanies’ all the time, how is this different?”
This was a good question Syrup had never pondered before. It remained unpondered as she finished the puddle and moved on to the crusty pile. It was even worse than the first, its dried texture sucking the moisture out of her mouth and clinging to her teeth.
Daddeh was fiddling with the strange device in the corner when Syrup finished the second pile. After washing the poopies down with the bowl of water in the corner she raced over to comfort her babbeh, sobbing lightly as her babbeh furiously suckled his hoof, small peeps and chirps of distress escaping from behind the soft hoofpad in his mouth. “Mummah am sowwy babbeh, nu mean fow babbeh tu get huwties!”
The foal continued to peep and chirp, a large red welt evident even through his neon orange fur. The sight of a wound, a wound she could have prevented, gave Syrup the worst heart hurties. She was supposed to protect her babbeh, make sure he grew big and strong, not let him make bad poopies and get sorry sticked. Her special friend would be ashamed.
“Syrup? You missed a spot.”
Syrup winced as daddeh waved the sorry stick, relaxing as she realized he was merely using it to point. Her relief was instantly converted to horror as she realized her foal was now sitting in a puddle of milky scaredy poopies. “Well? Do you want me to sorry stick your baby or are you going-“ her daddeh wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Syrup was frantically licking up the still steaming puddle, the warmth only making it taste more foul than before. Finishing the pile on the ground, Syrup quickly moved onto cleaning her foal, a rush of endorphins hitting her as soon as her tongue touched his crusted haunches.
“Good girl.” Syrup felt somewhat proud from the praise, but still felt… wrong. Violated. Humiliated. Poopies were the worst thing a fluffy knew. Lickie cleanies were a necessary part of being a mother, that was different, but to eat poopies off the floor, even those of your own child… something deep in her mind told her this wasn’t something she should ever have to do.
Syrup continued to lick the foal, cooing and apologizing everytime her tongue touched the bright red welt. Daddeh was still fiddling with the weird thing he brought, hooking the things tail up to the same weird thing on the wall as the nightlight.
“There we go.” With a loud click the creature began to hum a low tune. Her babbeh clean and her curiosity piqued, Syrup placed the foal between her shoulders and strode up next to her daddeh, staring at the creature. It looked like a large black blockie with… a milkie place? “Nyu fwen?”
Daddeh chuckled, patting her roughly on the head. “This is going to be your little helper. You see-“
Before her daddeh could finish, they were interrupted by a loud cheeping as the foal on Syrup’s back began to chirp and wriggle.
“CHEEP!”
Syrup smiled warmly. “Am babbeh’s miwkie time!” She leaned down, softly tipping the foal to the ground and positioning him in front of her teats. Before he could latch, daddeh had picked him up and dumped him roughly in front of the strange box. “Daddeh! Be cawefuw wif babbeh, am widdwe an sens-a-tibe! Pwease gib babbeh back to mummah, nee’ miwkies!”
Daddeh smiled at her, softly booping her nose as the small foal peeped and chirped in confusion. “Syrup you just ate a bunch of poopies! We can’t be giving your baby poopie milk!”
The words cut like a knife. If Syrup hadn’t felt like a failure before, she would now. “Buh…. Buh babbeh nee miwkies!”
Syrup received another soft boop as her foal seemed to catch a scent, lifting its head and sniffing deeply, its tiny nostrils flared. Silently, the foal flopped forwards, crawling towards the milkie place on the blockie and latching, its tiny tail nub whipping around frantically as it drank with more gusto than Syrup had ever seen. “Babbeh?”
“Whenever you have to clean up after your babbeh I’ll bring in Miss Milkies to feed your babbeh so he doesn’t have to have poopie milkies.” Daddeh patted the mare on the back, but the mare just stared sadly, watching as her foal fed from another milkie place. Daddeh stood up with a grunt and began making his way towards the door. He stopped in the doorway and leaned against it as he watched Syrup stare at the machine feeding her foal. “Don’t forget to say thank you to Miss Milkies for feeding your baby!”
“… tank ‘ou…”
“I can’t hear you, say it louder!”
“Tank ‘ou Miz Miwkies…”
“Are you hungry or are you full from all the poopies?”
“Fwuffy am hungies…”
“Alright wait here, I’ll go get you some breakfast.”
Well done!