The Strongest Muscle pt. 2 [by A-S]

This is the continuation for The Strongest Muscle [by A-S]


As the grey foal made his way through the house, faint noises could be heard coming from the last room on the right. His family had set up shop, ironically enough, in the old nursery. Stepping inside, his gaze fell on his family, all bunched up under an old crib, his mummah laying in a pile of old wallpaper, some of her own silvery grey fluff and whatever soft material she had managed to scrounge up to make a nestie. She was cradling one small, pink chirpie babbeh in her arms, while two more were nuzzling in her yellow tail. They were desperately trying to reach her milkie places, but she had been keeping them at bay, unsuccessfully trying to soothe their hungry peeps with huggies and songs.

The young fluffy’s eyes started tearing up at this sight. He couldn’t stand seeing his family suffer. That was why he had taken upon himself to find nummies for them, since his mother couldn’t leave the chirpies alone. Her motherly instincts had simply taken over, as abandoning them even for a small time would have caused them heavy emotional distress. They had already suffered enough when they had lost their biological mother a few days before. When they had lost everything.

The foal and his mother had once been part of a larger herd, around a dozen fluffies total, not counting the foals. The herd had been living in a disused part of a large warehouse. The herd’s smarty had chosen that spot in particular because there was a small hole in the wall that fluffies could easily go through without attracting the human workers’ attention. Some fluffies didn’t know why this was necessary, but the smarty had been adamant on it. The less attention they drew, the less chances a mean human would find them.

Sadly, one day one of the less than charitable workers had spotted one of the herd’s nummie finders coming back from a raid. He had informed his principal, who had not been happy about it. On a sunday morning, with nobody else around, he had shown up, having decided to take care of the animals without having to pay for a professional.

The young foal remembered it all too clearly. The monster human had shown up with a large, metal sorry stick. The smarty had tried to negotiate with him, resorting to beg the human to let his herd go and punish him alone. His pleads had been cut short by the stick. Panicking fluffies had started running left and right or hiding behind their hoofsies, hoping the mean human wouldn’t see them. The foals loudly bawled, begging for their parents’ help. The toughies the grey foal had so much admired tried to buy the herd time to escape, only to be easily swatted around. Then, amidst the carnage, his mother had picked him and a dead mare’s offspring up, then left through the hole. But even though he could no longer see the massacre, he could hear still hear the cries. The foal couldn’t forget them, especially the panicked chirpies’ peeps. They couldn’t even see what was happening. They could only hear their caretakers’ screams of pain and fear. They never had a chance to play, to tell their mothers they loved them… to live.

His mother’s voice shook him from his waking nightmare.

“Hewwo Big Babbeh! ‘Ou find nummies fo’ mummah? Chiwpie babbehs nee’ miwkies tu gwow big and stwong!”

The foal briskly approached the nestie.

“Yes mummah! Big Babbeh find twashie nummies AN’ squeakie-munstah fo’ miwkies!”

The mare had gasped when she had seen the dead mouse, giving her son some much needed praise.

“Weawwy? ‘Ou gib meanie squeakie-munstah fowebah sweepies? Big Babbeh am bestes’ nummie-findah AN’ toughie tu’! Mummah wub 'ou so much!”

Cheered up by his mother’s compliments, the foal laid his findings near the mare. She opted to let her recently weaned son have the soft sandwich, taking the less tasty and crunchy animal for herself. After they were done, she told him to go and make good poopies in the other room, so the stench wouldn’t upset the chirpies, and started nursing them. The red and blue chirpies were finally allowed access to her milk, while keeping the pink one in her arms until a spot was open. Once they all had their fill, she set them up in a small fluffpile to sleep. Carefully walking away to avoid waking them up, she sat by the window, the moonlight shining down on her.

As she gazed up to the night sky, tears started welling up in her eyes. She was scared and confused. She didn’t know what to do. Her special friend had always taken every decision for the herd, while nummie finders and toughies provided for its needs. She was so proud of her son, doing both for her and the smaller babies. Oh, how she wished her special friend could see his son, how good he was. The thought brought even more tears to her eyes, and she started sobbing.

“Huu huu, speciaw fwend… fwuffy miss 'ou so muchies. Why meanie hooman gib 'ou fowebah sweepies? 'Ou am gud fwuffy… huu huu…”

The grey foal didn’t dare to enter the room. His heart hurt terribly from hearing his mother’s plight. He missed his father so much. He missed the herd. He didn’t know why the human had killed them all. But he knew one thing: he’d protect his mother and newfound siblings. His eyes full of tears, he stood up.

“Mummah hab wowstes’ heawt huwties. Big Babbeh nee’ make mummah hab heawt happies!”

He thought hard on how to achieve such goal, walking up and down the corridor, until a strange scent caught his attention.

“Sketties?”

He never had any, but he certainly remembered their smell. One time, a nummie finder had brought some back to share with the herd.

“Sketties am bestes’ nummies, gib mummah heawt happies!”

Following the enticing smell, he reached the door leading outside. There, in a small paper plate, laid a small portion of spaghetti with sauce. He looked around, but saw nobody there. The irresistable smell, coupled with his wish to make his mother happy made it an easy choice. He bit down on the paper plate, then started dragging it towards his nest.

From the shadows, the man observed. He’d wait a few minutes, then collect his prize.

“It’s just too easy. But that’s part of the enjoyment…”


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Oddly enough, I had immediately presumed that the pink chirpie was the bestest and the two other chirpies were not bestests. Guess I’ve read too many hugging one pretty pink foal stories.

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Not this time, I’m afraid. Though you’ll surely find other tropes hehe.

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