birth foal hugbox mummeh runt sadbox safe sketti-land text


Lucky Fluffy

Chapter Two - Runt

I got home at about noon. I had the week off, so I didn’t have to worry about attending class, and could give Blossom my almost undivided attention. I entered the house, and went straight to my room. I put the box on the floor, and looked into it. Blossom was sleeping peacefully. Great, I thought, I have time to set up a living area. I opened the Amazon box on my bed. First, I unfolded a wipe-clean plastic sheet, laying it in the far corner of my room, then I opened another box, which was a flimsy plastic fence. This was intended to establish a ‘safe room’, but was obviously too small for Blossom. It was set aside for now. Under the box were two small silicone bowls, which weren’t ideal but would have to do, and apart from a tiny litter tray, a small bag of food and a few pouches of formula milk complete with dropper was all the starter pack contained. I raised an eyebrow, and for the second time today was frustrated by Hasbio’s hiked prices. Blossom was still asleep, so I quietly left the room, and went to prepare the bathroom. When I came back to pick Blossom up, she was awake again, happily babbling to her dead foals about her new daddy. I took the whole box with me.
In the bathtub, I went about cleaning up Blossom. It seemed her previous owner had done this before, since she didn’t complain or whine about being rinsed off. With her thoroughly shampooed and rinsed, I could finally get a good look at her. She had purple fluff, and a dark green mane. I bundled her up in a towel and carried her back to my room. Blossom was surprisingly heavy for a fluffy of her size, but I didn’t think much of it. The warm water made her sleepy, and I put her in the safe area as she dozed off. That particular problem dealt with, it was time to dispose of the foals…
Blossom woke up, blinking sleepily. Shaking off the damp towel, she crawled across the floor. Her eyes lit up as she saw a bowl full of food and water waiting for her, and she ate quickly and noisily. In the heady excitement of her rescue, she hadn’t realised how hungry she’d been. She wondered why she was so hungry, and it all quickly fell into place. Blossom needed nummies, she thought, to make good milkies to feed her babies, so they grow big and strong. She beamed proudly, thinking of what at a good mother she was being, before a panicked expression flashed across her face. Where were those babies? ‘Babbehs? Whewe awe ‘ou?’ She snouted around the towel, searching. ‘Awe babbehs hidin’ fwom mummeh? Babbehs come out, need miwkies and huggies!’ This went on for a few minutes, as she became increasing distressed. She knocked over her water bowl, and tottered around the small room, desperately searching. Then daddy came through the door, and she was relieved. ‘Daddeh, whewe babbehs? Bwossom nee gib babbehs miwkies! Whewe babbehs daddeh?!’
This was the moment I’d been dreading, however, I’d made a plan. ‘Babies are in, uhh, Sketti Land!’, I said, forcing myself to be cheerful. I was drawing on all my knowledge of that terrible tv show, and hoped this would work. To my relief, it did. Blossom cautiously asked if her babies were getting huggies and love in Sketti Land, and I confirmed this. Blossom immediately began chanting ‘Gu’ babbehs gu sketti wand! Babbehs awe bestest babbehs!’ I sat on the floor as she crawled around. My mind kept going back to the disposal of her foals. ‘Sketti Land’ was the bottom of the waste bin. I’d tried to find a cause of death for the foals, and my only conclusion was that they’d been malnourished. So much for ‘miwkies’, then. I picked up the happy mare and held her against my body, making her squeal with happiness as she nuzzled against me. I covertly felt her stomach, and my heart sank as my suspicions were confirmed. Somehow, Blossom was pregnant with another litter. I sighed, but spent the rest of the day rolling around a ball while she crawled after it, and reading fluffy forums on my phone. I was eventually able to get the excited fluffy to sleep, and I too went to bed.
I was woken up at about 4 am by a screeching sound. Bleary-eyed, I rolled out of bed and flipped the light switch. Yesterday’s events came back to me in a flash, and I snapped to attention. I looked to the corner, and saw Blossom, twisted in her bed-towel, with a pained expression, surrounded by small piles of faeces and urine. ‘BIGGEST POOPIES!!’ She shrieked. It took me a minute to realise what that meant, but a handy Fluffy Language glossary I’d read last night had claimed this meant the fluffy was giving birth. I could only stand and watch the miracle of birth. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and lasted for about ten minutes. In that time Blossom delivered four foals, which explains why she was so heavy. As each foal was delivered, she dutifully licked the embryonic coating from them. From what I could see, they were all healthy. The foals peeped and chirped, crawling on their bellies into her fluff, searching for milk. Content that the situation was stable, I refilled her water, offered her some words of encouragement and went back to bed.
Blossom was so happy. Four good babies were now snuggling against her, and she sank into maternal bliss, thinking about them. She gently cooed to the chirping foals, quietly singing her mother song, so daddy wouldn’t wake up. The song got quieter and quieter as she fell asleep, dreaming of her other good babies, in Sketti Land. The exertion of childbirth, and her condition after living on the streets was such that unfortunately, the happy mare would never wake up again, or see her babies grow big and strong.
I woke up for the second time that morning to my alarm. Turning it off, I yawned and got up, ignoring Blossom, going straight to the bathroom. I came back ten minutes later after my morning ablutions, and slipped on a pair of shorts. First order of the day would be to clean up after last night. However, something was wrong. I sensed this as I approached the fluffy nest. Instead of the snoring or singing I was used to with her, there was nothing but silence. She was dead, and so were her foals. I guessed that she either couldn’t produce milk, or her dying had caused her to dry up, and they’d died in the night. I felt a crushing sense of guilt. If I’d stayed awake and fed them after birth, I might have four happy little chirpies on my hands, but instead I had five corpses to dispose of. I wondered why I’d ever bothered to want a fluffy. I clearly wasn’t up for the job. Yet, as I wrapped up tiny foals in paper to dispose of them like last time, something gave me hope. It was muffled chirping. At first, I couldn’t tell where it came from- all the foals I could see were cold and very dead. It was coming from under Blossom, and when I lifted her, a tiny white foal fell out from under her belly, peeping weakly, clearly craving milk. It was abnormally small, probably a runt, and been born while I was asleep. To her credit, Blossom hadn’t attempted to abandon it, something I’d read about online. Although I didn’t want to get my hopes up, I tentatively set the foal aside, and put the poor dead fluffies in a garbage bag. I also wiped the plastic sheet clean and put the bed-towel in the same bag. I took them outside and tossed them into the bin, my heart racing. A sense of urgency, maybe some kind of paternal instinct, told me I had to act fast to save the little foal.
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Tags birth foal hugbox mummeh runt sadbox safe sketti-land text
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PeanutButterJellenheimer: Nooo the fluff!
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Sorrowkandy: I'm seeing red already.