Dulcie's Bathtime (Challenge No.61 entry)

FractalFluff, September 9, 2014; 16:07 / FB 25667
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(Contains traces of fluffy-on-fluffy violence and implied nummies-babbehs. Hugbox deficient. Not a signifiant source of abuse.)

Dulcie's Bathtime

You are a small light-brown wingie mare called... oh, what was it again... it's on the tip of your tongue... ummm... err... this is so complicated...

Well, your stupid name's run 'way again, so for now you'll just have to be a small wingie mare. You're a good fluffy. Not your fault if things run 'way from you sometimes.

Things like the idea that you weren't supposed to eat Mummah's pretty flowers.

Or the idea that the rug in front of the TV was not the right place for not-pretties, no matter HOW riveting you found the current episode of "Ball".

Or the idea that you were not, no, no way, nuh-uh, negatory, niet, non, never, nunca, JesusChriststopASKINGit'snevergoingtohappen, allowed to have babies.

Or the related understanding that it wasn't okay for you to sneak though Mummah's leggies while she brought in the washing so you could hook up with one of the pretty boy fluffies who lived on your street.

On a day when you ate the flowers and crapped on the rug and absquatulated to make the floof with two backs with the smart-mouthed unicorn from three doors down, something very mysterious happened. Mummah took you for a vroom-vroom ride in her pretty red vroom-vroom, but you didn't go to the store or the Pawk or Fluffy Friends Happytime Daycare, or even the vet. Instead, Mummah took you to a nice place with lots and lots of pretty trees, but no housies.

After letting you out of your carry-boxie, Mummah said that you should play hide-and-peep. You love hide-and-peep, so you went to be a hidey fluffy.

It was the longest vroom-vroom ride ever, so maybe Mummah was tired and that's why she couldn't find you. You hid pretty well, your hooves clasped securely over your eyes, and you stayed hidden for several forevers! But when you uncovered your peepers so that Mummah could see you again, she had gone 'way. So had her pretty red vroom-vroom. You looked and looked, and shouted and shouted, but neither vroom-vroom nor Mummah ever reappeared.

Maybe if all those ideas hadn't all run away at once on the same day, you'd still have a house and a Mummah. But they did, and you don't.

What you have now is a Herd.

A Herd is the name for a very lot of fluffy ponies who have decided to be friends because they don't have hoomin-housies or hoomin-mummahs and daddies. Some Herds, you've learned, have horrid meany bossy Smarties, but your Smarty is a pretty unicorn mare called...

Called...

...Doll-See, you think? Her name runs 'way too.

But that doesn't matter. What matters is that Doll-see is soooo big and soooo pretty! And her fluff is soooo soft! You love your big pretty soft-fluff Smarty friend lots, and she loves you, and your new herd loves you too!

Smarty tells you that your old Mummah was a dummy to not let you num flowers or have babies. "Aww gud fwuffies wuv babbehs," she tells you, with a toss of her yellow mane, "an fwowews am gud nummies fow mummahs! Nu haf saddies, nyu fwen. Yu can haf babbehs fow hewd!"

There are lots mares in your Herd. More than most Herds, Smarty says. Most of them are good fluffies, but some of the mares are dummies who don't understand how great this Herd is. They make huu-huus and say "wan owd Hewd! Nu wike meany nyu Hewd!" or "Huu huu, wan Daddeh". Smarty says to be Pay Sumpt with the dummy mares and be nice, because then they'll Get Over It faster.

Silly mares! Don't they know this is the bestest Herd EVER?

***

You are Grunt, a Toughie Friend in Dulce's Herd. Today, you're on duty outside your mighty Smarty's Place for Smarty Thinkies. Only the Smarty is allowed to be there. Sometimes she is very kind, though, and invites other fluffies to come and see the Place for Thinkies.

The Place for Smarty Thinkies is a secluded hollow a little walk from the Herd Area. It's tucked away among the rocks and there's only one way in; you, Grunt, are currently guarding it.

The Place is very nice and very special. Bendy trees hang down over it and make pretty green shadows, and a little trickle of wawa runs over pebbles with a friendly chuckling noise. The wawa is good wawa, and never tries to give fluffies forever-sleeps. There's a comfy hidey-hole where the Smarty sleeps, and a round dip in the round where wawa collects. Smarty sits in this to have washies. She has lots of washies; a Smarty must always look her best, she often says.

You agree, because Smarty is Smarty and you like the way she looks and smells. Sometimes your naughty place gets all pokey just thinking about her. She is Best Smarty.

You hear her singing to herself as one of her attendants helps her have washies.

"Smawty wuv fwuffies, fwuffies wuv Smawty... Smawty nee' be pwetty, fow give bestest hugs...
Smawty haf washies, su Smawty am pwetty... Haf bestest washes, gwow pwetties' fwuff..."

It's your job to be Big and Strong and stop silly fluffies from bothering your Smarty. Someone's always huu-huuing about something. Every bright-time, one or other of the mummahs is out here (though sometimes it's one of the fluffy daddahs). Always yelling and fussing about needing more nummies for more milkies, blah blah blah.

Dummy fluffies. Don't they know how good they have it in this herd? Plenty of nummies, plenty of hugs, LOTS of pretty mares, and a Smarty who doesn't want to do dummy stuff. Okay, so sometimes they have to do things they don't want to. Big deal! This is a great herd.

The greatest herd.

With the prettiest Smarty.

Dammit, now your naughty place is being all pokey.

***

You're a small wingie mare with light-brown fluff. Some bad things happened to you this bright-time, but also some good things. You're very confused.

One of the good things is your name. Your name came back. You're Brownie!

The bad thing was that the fluffy who gave you your name back was a meanie. A big mean shouty mean meany, who was mean. "Hoo bin makin poopies wite next tu dah nummie-gwassies pwace? Dummeh Bwownie! Yu du dat, Bwownie? Fwuffy knoh it yu, dummeh mawe!"

The other bad thing was that you were supposed to be carrying flower nummies to one of the soon-mummahs, but the idea of taking the flowers to the soon-mummah mare ran 'way and left you. And so you accidentally nummed some of the flowers. And you got just the MEANIEST nosie-boops, right on your sniffy-places, and you still have yikky boo-boo-juice fluff. And you got pulled by your ear to see the Smarty, and you were soooooo scared!

But instead of giving you more owwies and sorries, Smarty does the nicest thing EVER. She listens politely while the meany Toughie who caught you numming the flowers tells her everything, and then says:

"Su, Bwownie nummed fwowahs fow soon-mummah? Dat nawtee. It bad fow be nummies-feef. Bu' Smawty knoh how tu fixies dis."

"How fix, Smarty?" asks the Toughie.

"Weww... fwowah-nummies am fow soon-mummah. It bad fow fwuffy who nu am soon-mummah tu num fwowahs. But if Bwownie-fwen am soon-mummah, den it otay fow hew tu num dah gud fwowah-nummies."

"Bu' Fwuffy nu am soon-mummah," you interjected, confused.

"Bwownie wan be soon-mummah? Hewd awways nee' babbehs. Soon-mummah get gud nummies, wuv an huggies. Meanybad nummies-feefs... dey nu get gud nummies. Nummies-feefs get sowwies. Get owwies. Get putted inna sowwy-howe."

The sorry hole! You shivered and sucked your hoof. Fluffies made poopies in there! You didn't want to be in the hole, so deep and dark and poopie...

"Suuu..." Smarty drawled, "wut Bwownie-fwen' wan be? Bad poopie nummies-feef, ow gud soon-mummah?"

You considered your options. You'd only had a few special huggies, and you weren't sure you liked them. And you were less certain of the perfect wonderfulness of babies; the Herd had rather a lot of babies, and you were often made to look after them. They were cute and pretty, but they seem to produce an awful lot of noise and poopies.

But you still quite liked babies, and you definitely didn't like owwies, and you were very sure you wouldn't like the sorry-hole.

"Otay," you told the Smarty. "Bwownie be Mummah fow Hewd."

Smarty gave you a big, friendly hug, then took you out to meet some boy fluffies who might be interested.

Most of them already had special friends, or suddenly remembered important nummies-finding they had to do. One of them started shouting about "haf spesha huggies wen wan," and not wanting to make dummy babies with a dummy mare; two Toughies took him away to find him something else to do instead.

But the next boy fluffy Smarty introduced you to DID want special huggies with you. He was a little small, and sort of jumpy; he kept looking anxiously after the Toughies and the boy fluffy they'd taken away. But he had pretty red fluff and a nice smile and was just "SUUU HAPPEH!" about helping you make babies.

***

Not long after that funny nice-nasty bright-time, you got a funny feeling in your tummy. And then you got big and wobbly, and then big and rolly, and then you had biggest poopies! But they weren't poopies, they were babies!

And here you are, a real Mummah at last. You're licking your babies clean: a blue baby, a sun-colour baby, a leaf-colour baby, a pebble-coloured baby, a baby with red fluff like your special friend, a colour-like-cold-time baby...

"Pwetty babbehs! Suuuu happeh!" you cooed over them.

"Yeah. Happeh," said your special friend, glancing nervously over at some Tougies who happened to be passing your nestie. He pushes some flower-nummies towards you. "Hewe, yu gotta eat mummah-nummies. Keep yu strengf up."

"But Mummah nu haf hung'y feews —"

"Yu gotta eat dah mummah-nummies! It pawtint! Mummah nu can make bestes miwkies wiffout mummah-nummies!"

You don't really want nummies, but our special friend is so upset that you eat the flower-nummies anyway. You're very tired after making babies, and soon drift off to sleep.

Your head makes the oddest sleepies-pictures. Some of the Toughies are sticking their heads into your hidey-hole and looking at you and the babies, and then they're talking... something about "nummies-babbehs," which can't be right. Babies aren't nummies!

"... onwy be 'nuff miwkies fow fwee... she dummeh, nu miss wun ow tuu..."

"...stahp cwying, dummeh Wooj. Dey dummeh babbehs anyways..."

When you wake up, the babies see... different? You frowned. Hadn't there been..?

"'Peshow fwen'?" you say to the red fluffy, who looks more nervous than ever. "'Peshow fwen', wha' happen weaf-cowah babbeh? An wocky-cowah babbeh an cow'-time-cowah babbeh?"

"Wut weaf babbeh? Yu gut aww yu babbehs." He's gnawing on the fluff round his hoofsie; the fluff on his cheeks looks... wet?

"Buh... buh Mummah seed weaf-cowah babbeh an wocky-cowah babbeh an cow'-time cowah babbeh..."

The red fluffy puts his face close to yours. "Yu GUT aww yu babbehs," he hisses. "Mummah haf bwoo, wed an wewwow babbehs. Nu haf uffah babbehs."

"Buh —"

"Nu be dummeh Mummah! Yu haf sweepies-pitchew, dat aww! Dese aww yu babbehs! Nu say dummeh fings bout babbehs yu nefuh haf!"

Your special friend is almost in tears. You shrink back, hugging your babies. You're sure you had other babies! But the red fluffy looks so sad and angry; and you know he's cleverer than you. So you decide that the leaf-colour baby and the rocky-colour baby and the cold-time-colour baby must have been part of your sleepies-pictures after all, and try not to think about them.

Being a mummah is quite nice. You get lots of huggies from your herdmates, and everyone says how pretty your babies are. Your special friend stops being so scaredy, and is nicer to you. You get extra-special nummies that the Herd tell you are "mummah-nummies," and your friend always makes sure you eat every bite. You always feel very, very sleepy after you eat the mummah-nummies. More than any other kind of nummies.

For some reason, you think of the special treats your old mummah used to give you sometimes. You always took nappies after you ate one, and always seemed to wake up at the doctor... the idea runs 'way before you can finish it. Anyway, after the mummah-nummies, you just wake up in your nestie...

Your babies grow well. Some mornings, though, you don't seem to have quite enough milkies. But then you eat more nummies, and make more milkies, and everything's fine.

***

...ohpoopiesohpoopiesohpoopies...

You are Rouge, a small red wingie, and this dummy mare will be the death of you. As daft as she is, she seems a bit too astute when it comes to... certain things. Things she shouldn't know about. You have your work cut out making sure she eats the sleepy-flowers and doesn't ask awkward questions. Your last such assignent ended badly; the mare took to hiding the sleepy-flowers in her cheek, so one night she was awake when the Toughies came...

If only she hadn't tried to fight. Didn't she know it was no use fighting?

And you'd been dragged up before Smarty, and one Toughy had grabbed one of your wingies in his mouth and another had grabbed your other wingie, and then they'd PULLED... and you'd screamed, and Smarty had laughed, and something went POP on one side and POP on the other, and you fell sobbing on your face...

...and when you finally dared to open your eyes, there were two feathers on the floor in front of you, the ends stained with boo-boo-juice. And Smarty told you that next time, NEXT time, it would be your whole wingies on the ground.

So this time you nag and coax and beg, and get the mare to eat all the sleepy-flowers, and you hope, hope, hope that she doesn't wake up.

...ohpoopiesohpoopiesohpoopies...

***

You're Grunt, and you could just about burst with pride. You've finally been made a Special Toughie! Special Toughies are the very best toughies; they're allowed to sit with Smarty while she has washies, and sometimes to help snuggle her warm afterwards.

But your most important job is the Special Job.

That's what you're doing right now.

Walking as silently as you can, you sneak through the Herd Area, looking for that dummy mare's hidey-hole. That dummy wingie with the silly name — Rooj? — is standing outside, waiting; he waves frantically, beckoning you over.

"Dummeh mawe sweepin?" you ask in a soft voice.

"Yeah, Tuffie. She sweepin," he whispers. A loud and resonant snore emanates from the nestie. You snicker quietly, then lower your head and wriggle inside.

Dummy scaredy Rooj has at least done his job. The mare is on her back, and all the babies have been moved out of the way.

You bend your face to her belly, and carefully, oh so carefully, sniff out her milkie-places.

You draw the milkies into your mouth. They're so sweet and warm and creamy, but you don't allow yourself a swallow.

"Nu tuu much!" hisses Rooj from behind you. You silence him with a glare, and suck from the other milkie-place. The mare fidgets in her sleep, but doesn't wake up.

You back out of the hole. Cheeks bulging as if you were getting ready to fight, you hasten across the Herd Area and over to the Place for Smarty Thinkies.

Two other Toughies, their cheeks bulging like yours, converge on the opening between the rocks. The Toughie on guard nods and waves you through.

Smarty is waiting. She smiles when she sees you, and slips into her washie-hole. You and the other Toughies lean close, and open your mouths so that the milkies flow down Smarty's fluff. She hugs each of you in turn, licking the last drops from around your muzzles.

"Fankoo, Hefty," she says. "Fankoo, Giant. Fankoo, Gwunt. Yu aww gud Toughies. Bestes' Toughies. Smawty wuv yu."

A female attendant walks over and begins to smooth the milkies all over Smarty's back. Smarty coos and giggles. The wawa in her washie-hole quickly turns milky-white too. Since you haven't been dismissed, you watch as she rolls and wriggles in the hole, getting milkies over every part of her body, making sure that the milkie-wawa soaks into every bit of fluff. She sings, very softly.

"Smawty wuv miwkies, miwkies fow Smawty... Smawty stay pwetty, Smawty stay young...
Haf miwkie washies, su Smawty am pwetty... Aww dah miwkie washes, keep Smawty young..."

Dammit. You hope it's too dark for her to see your naughty place. It's getting all pokey again.

- end -