My Giant and Me (A Fluffy Pony Hugbox Story) Part 13

My Giant and Me, Part 13

>Be the Pink Smarty Friend ... so hot. So tired. So ... hurty.
>You're so hot and dizy, like you've been turning in place all day long, your No-No's feels like it's going to fall off, your whole body aches from all the owies you got when your Dummy Herd was bad and ruined your Sketties, the place where your tail used to be is itching like mad and your front leg, where you and the Bad Stuuupid Ugly Dummy BAD Mumma smashed your hooves into the water bowl earlier, hurts every time you put your full weight onto it.
>Still, at least the Bad Mumma has learned she will obey you in all things now, even for Special Huggies. Her face is bruised, her mane and ears ravaged ... finally, she's a Good Mare now.
>It's only taken all of your life, and your best Smarty Special Huggies, however ...
>It wasn't that Special, truth be told. She's old, she's loose in the No-No's, and she's not pretty at all. If she wasn't making the Special Huggies Smell, you'd never have lowered your standards so much!
>There was also a feeling of revulsion flowing through you during the Not-So-Special Huggies that made you want to dismount and make sickies-water with your mouth, but you couldn't think past the Hot-Feels-Need-Hugs feelings, and you know your Leggies never listen to you during Special Huggies, they're having too much fun, like you!
>Under normal circumstances, when the Bad Mumma starts to make her Special Smell, you kick her out of the Herd until she stops trying to pretend to be a Good Mare. Normally she's only gone a few hours before she waddles back, proudly declaring she's now a Mumma, and the whole Herd face-hoofs.
>The only reason you let her stay around normally is because you promised your Mumma's Mumma to let the Bad Mumma stay with the Herd, and your Mumma's Mumma was the only decent Fluffy you ever knew, the only one that cared for you after the Dummy Smarty Friend said that the Herd couldn't afford to take care of the Bad Mumma's babies if she wouldn't take responsibility for them.
>Mumma's Mumma is the only one who cared for you, begged on her knees for milk from the other Mares, who were all Dummies, and only gave you just enough milk not to starve. And they complained! Complained about feeding you, with their Milkie-Places so big and swollen and full of yummy Milk!
>They suffered for that when you managed to kill off the Meanie Old Smarty with a sticky-sticky ball that you rolled under his hoof while he was walking. Oh, how those Mares suffered for their terrible crime in not loving you like a Mumma should ... you took their Babies away until they apologised, then made them look after each other's babies, and anyone who tried to take their baby back was made into a Special Huggies Mare.
>Soon, every Mare was a Special Huggies Mare, and still you forced them to care for each others Babies until everyone was grown up, but still the mothers and children loved each other.
>It made you so angry. Why were they so overwhelmingly protecting of their Dummy Babies, willing to endure any disgrace or humiliation, when nobody but your Mumma's Mumma loved you?
>Dummy Fluffies deserve nothing but owies, and your Herd is nothing but dummies, despite all the beatings. Not that the Mares you save from the Hoomin Munstas are much better!
>Stuuuupid Fluffies crying about leaving their homes, it takes many days and many more beatings before they realise they're much better off under you!
>Under you ... heh.
>Now, however, Bad Mumma has had the 'funny feel' in her tummy, and is in the bed, singing to your babies. She's a stupid bitch, she peed in the bed and now it's all stinky, yet she's happy to lay there! Your babies deserve better than a Bad Mumma and a Stinky Bed!
>She says they're 'Her' babies, but she's a dummy Mumma who couldn't even look after you for long enough when you were just born, and your Mumma's Mumma said that all Mummas should love Babies! But not the Bad Mumma, she loses interest and abandons her babies to go play, then gets angry when they have the Longest Sleep!
>You're not letting her have anything to do with your babies, they are Good Fluffies, you're their Daddy, after all! If they are Your Babies, they must be Good Fluffies! As soon as she has them, you'll take them away, and make the Sweet Red Mare look after them!
>Thinking about that Sweet Red Mare, suddenly your No-No's doesn't hurt so much anymore ... maybe if you just closed your eyes and thought of that fat, beautiful, soft mare, you could have Special Huggies with the Bad Mumma again, and it would actually feel Special this time ...
>Nnnnnnnope, you imagined yourself on top of the Bad Mumma, and your No-No's had the Longest Sleep. Stupid Ugly Bitch of a Bad Mumma, why must she be so useless!
>And your Herd! You're going to tear their damn tails off for what they did to you! Abandoning you like that, after all you've done for them! You protect the herd's territories and hit the Dummy Fluffies in the head or No-No's or poopie place until they are Smart like you, and all you ask for in return is your rights as Smarty Friend! Special Hugs whenever you want! The best nummies! The warmest place in the Hug Pile!
>You're the Smartest, Prettiest, Toughest, Bravest Fluffy of them all, they should feel honoured to be your Fluffies! Dummy Mares, always crying about Bad Special Huggies, don't they know how special they are, to have been chosen by you? To bear your children, to be mounted by you?
>Stallions who are always whining about their Special Friends, about how you won't let them play with their babies! They're your Toughie Friends, Toughie Friends don't play, they give Owies! To whomever and whatever you tell them to!
>Seriously, it's like you're the only Fluffy with your head screwed on right!

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>"Mumma! Pway wit' Mumma!" White cheeps happily, holding onto a giant Lego-block as Silk gently lowers both Foal and Lego onto another Lego, while Red and Pink peep eagerly, jumping up and down in their excitement.
>It's adorable, in a retarded kind of way. Do they really get that much joy out of watching two Lego blocks click together? It's not exactly something mind-blowing like the Lord of the Rings movies or going to the top of mount everest!
>Or maybe it's just you're too, well, smart to take joy in such a simple, mundane thing? To them, watching the two blocks 'hug' is probably the greatest moment of their lives to-date.
>Still, at least Silk is calming down nicely. She was nearly ready to bolt to her safety room, after White's mother tried to reclaim him, all but snatching her Foals off you and shivering with all three clutched to her chest.
>Still, your promise that she doesn't need to go back outside to face the Ferals if she doesn't want to has helped calm her down ... and that humming contest!
>So that's why she was doing it! Imprinting the Babies to the sound of her voice, meaning that they'd always come back to her, always know who she was.
>Still, for the Feral Mare, this 'Cobble', to have both her offspring reject her in favour of another, prettier, healthier Mare must be crushing. And her teats were almost empty when you had a quick look earlier. She's been running around all day without food, so she hasn't been able to produce any milk either. Even if by some miracle Green does accept her again, she'll have nothing to feed him for at least two or three hours ...
>Much as you dearly do want to take Green and bring him into the family, could Silk produce enough milk to make that work? You go back to work the day after tomorrow ... can a newborn Fluffy survive not being fed a full stomach's worth of milk for a full 9 hours every day?
"An' Wego is su fuuuuun, Wego is su fuuuuuun, now is time tu pway wit' bwocks an' haf some Wego fun!" Silk sings (admittedly with weird lyrics) as the Babies push and drag more Lego kindgergartener blocks over for her to 'help' them build a 'Safe Pwace'.
>Now that you think about it, when you took in Silk and her siblings, four tiny, pitiful, crying bundles of fluff in a filthy cardboard box dumped on the side of the road, they complained a lot about being scared and feeling exposed when you were absent at work and they were left in your guest room all alone, until you made them a safe, dark, warm 'burrow', after which they would always go back to the 'burrow' to sleep, or when they needed to feel safe and relaxed.
>The 'burrow' was really just a cardboard box, a couple of old towels for padding and a hard cardboard 'tube' that's normally used for mailing posters and the like to make the opening. Yet Silk and her Siblings loved it to bits, and were absolutely heart-broken when they could no longer fit inside the cardboard tube to get to their 'Safe Pwace'.
>Much as you want to help them do this, letting Silk build with her children, letting them bond further, is probably for the best. They've had enough shenanigans for a while.
>Also it is damn adorable too. Together, White and 'Silk' have put the two blocks together, then Silk puts the White baby back down, where he hugs his two older sisters, and then Pink shuffles forwards for her own turn at playing 'Wego' with her mother.
>Time to go check on the Ferals. Silks's so preoccupied with her babies that she doesn't even respond when you tell her you're leaving to see if the Ferals need anything else.
>You put your hand on the door-knob and are about open the door when you hear it.
>Sobbing and the sound of something scratching on the other side of the door.
>Crouching down, you push Bruce's 'doggy door' open a crack and sigh. Yes, there's a Fluffy out there, begging to be let in. Cobble, no less. She's got two damp lines under her eyes where she's been crying, and a stream of half-dried snot on her muzzle.
>Aaaaaaand everyone else is down on the grass, playing and grazing and hugging each other, babbling softly to each other.
>Let the doggy door fall back into place and ignore the frantic 'pounding' from the other side as Cobble notices the doggy door can move, put the latch on so that it can't swing open, just in case Cobble manages to get enough Fluffies to help her that she can push the thin metal flap up enough to sneak inside, and walk into the kitchen.
>More formula powder to use with the milk bottles and kettle you left outside, just in case, and then out the laundry door on the other side of the house.
>Walking around the back of your house to the porch, you can't help but stare at the patch of grass where the brawl of the spaghetti too place.
>Even with you hosing it down after the fight ... the grass looks wrong. All the shit has chemically burnt the grass, and it's turning a horrid shade of yellow-brown.
>The smell's noticeable from several feet away too. Like ... somebody gave a Skunk a sulphuric enema after feeding it baked beans and constipation-pills for a week ....
>Cowbell's Herd is playing and grazing around Bruce, the Adults nervously approaching and timidly stroking the fur of the young Saint Bernard, obviously having encountered more territorial dogs before, but the Foals, Colts and Fillies just charge on in, hugging Bruce and loudly praising him for being so warm and soft and nice.
>Thankfully, everyone keeps their distance from his tail, which is waving all over the place at high speed. He'd do them serious injury if they tried to grab his tail, even to hug it. Aaaaand he's got that goofy expression on his face too. Bruce is probably thinking this is the best day of his life.
>Cowbell's taking the addition of her troublesome Herdmates well, leaning back against a sleeping Stallion, her babies cuddling her teats while she holds the Green Foal to her chest and strokes his back soothingly, while there's a circle of Mares bickering softly as they pass something arou...
>Ah. The Purple and Orange Foals. Seems nobody wants to take care of them, because they're such spoilt, aggressive little brats.
>"Cowbell. How is your Herd? Does anyone have any, ah, owies? Anything I can do to help you settle in for the night?" You say loudly, stepping clear of the house so the Herd can see you clearly.
>Cowbell blinks and stares at you, then smiles, a marked contrast to the other adults, but then, all they know of you is the fear-distorted stories from the Stallions and their previous interactions with 'Hoomins', and if Cowbell's story was true, those encounters generally end with the Herd being tormented at best, or at worst losing several friends at a time.
>"Stawwions haf hoof-owies, an' some Fwuffies stiww haf tummeh owies, buh Hewd is oh'tay." Cowbell turns to look at your porch, where Cobble is now unsucessfully pounding on the doggy door with her hooves, sobbing 'Bay-BEEEEEEEEH!' at the top of her lungs. "Is fwiend Siwk oh'tay? Is scawy tu haf 'nutha Mumma twy tu take yuu baybeh."
>"Well ... Silk's still upset, she does love White, after all. But you really consider White to be Silk's baby? Because it chose Silk?" You ask, wending your way through the Herd. The Adults try to keep their distance which helps, but you're somewhat thwarted by the Foals rushing to your legs and trying to hug you mid-stride. "Is that what the humming was about?"
>"Yah. Is Mumma Song, is how Baybehs know who dere weaw Mumma is!" Cowbell and several Mares nod vigorously, then demonstrate, humming softly, and with a surprising amount of speed, nearly a dozen Foals and nearly-Colts and -Fillies detach from Bruce's sides, almost flinging themselves across the grass in their haste, humming back in tiny, high-pitched tones.
>"If Guud White Baybeh come tu Siwk's Mumma-Song, den it be Siwk's Baybeh, nu mattah if it haf Baybeh-Comin' Sweepies in Cobbwe." A Mare pipes up as a small sky-blue nearly-Filly hugs her, then sighs and shoots a guilty look to the destraught Mare on your porch. "Cobbwe is nu Bad Fwuffie, buh dese hewr fiwst Baybehs. Suuu uhn'wucky ... Gween Baybeh tink his Mumma be a Meanie, an' White Baybeh was nu Bad Baybeh at aww, an' now wuvs 'nutha Mumma."
>Well. Seems that the Herd is willing to accept the 'loss' of the White Baby, but Cobble's going to be a recurring problem, and Green ... if he won't have anything to do with his mother, how will he survive? These are Feral Fluffies. They don't have constant access to good food, the Cowbell will start to run short of milk as soon as she loses access to the Breeder Kibble you gave her.
>With much cajoling and promises that you're 'Nice', Cowbell manages to get the Stallions to shuffle over and let you inspect their 'owies'.
>Jesus H Christ, their hooves are messed up something awful. They must have dug till they started to wear away the skin on the bottom of their hooves, it's all just pink and inflamed now, the scraped-raw flesh weeping a yellowish liquid with pink hints of blood in it.
>Tell the Mares to keep the Stallions on their backs, and rush around the house to the laundry door, leaving Cobble battering pitifully on your 'back' door to try and get into you house, grab some large square bandages, the ones big enough to cover the middle of your palm with the 'super durable' fibre coating on the outside and some disinfectant cream, rush back out again.
>Cobble didn't follow you, thank all the Gods, but the Stallions are complaining loudly, because the Mares took your orders a little too close to heart and are pinning the Stallions to the grass ...
>Applying the disinfectant cream was difficult enough, the Stallions complained about 'itchy-cowdie-owies!', squirmed and wriggled and kicked with every application, but at least they tolerated you applying the giant-sized square bandages to the bases of their hooves with minimal complaints, especially when you managed to make them understand the bandages would keep their 'Boo-Boo Juices' inside them and keep their hooves 'Pwetty'.
>They were even less impressed with being told they had to lie down and let their hooves heal, although Cowbell helped again, insisting that they listen to you while in your 'Garden', and her promise that once the Mummas had all grazed till they were full, they'd bring the Stallions some grass so they wouldn't go hungry.
>...... yeah, no. Looks like you're busting out more food. The Mares are only grazing near their Foals so they can be near them and still fill their empty, growling bellies, and the Foals won't leave the 'safety' of Bruce's vicinity, not when they're having so much fun climbing up and down the Saint Bernard's sides. You're going to end up with a ragged hole in your grass if this keeps up.
>Cobble doesn't even look up as you walk onto the porch, she's got her forehead pressed against the doggy door, leaning on it with her hooves hanging down at her sides, whimpering.
>"Nyuuuu ... Muh-Mumma mus' gif wuv tu ..." she stops and gives a great, ragged sob before mumbling again. "Tu speshaw Guud-Guud baybeh. Mus' get baybeh bah-bawk fwom Mea-Meanie Wed Mawe. Mus'."
>Oooooh Fuck, but first, you've got this little powderkeg to defuse.

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>Be Silk, praising your Pink Baby for figuring out how to put three Lego blocks together at once.
>Such a Smarty Baby! Cowbell was right, Horn-Babies are the Smartest! It took you forever to realise that if you put the third block halfway on both of the other two, you could make all three hug and click together, and the Pink Baby
>All your babies are wonderful. Pink is a Smarty Baby, Red loves to run and chase the other babies, and White just loves to be with you.
>That ... makes you a little sad. You feel bad for Cobble, but this is your Baby! You love White, White Loves you and your babies and Daddy and Bruce ... and he even knows your Mumma Song, so he must be yours!
>She was so scary though. She was going to take White away from you, even after the Mumma Song Test, which Cowbell had said was the bestest way to prove that White was your Baby.
>You're very lucky Cowbell tackled Cobble and held her down until Daddy could take you and your babies back inside the house. You don't know if you could have fought Cobble off, not with all the Owies that the Bad Mumma gave you yesterday.
>"Hii hii! Safe Pwa-ace, Safe Pwa-ace!" Your babies laugh as they rush around the 'Safe Place' they are building with you, shouting about which colored block of Lego they want to use next  when you help them with piling the precious Lego one atop the other to make four sturdy walls.
>Well, right now it's just a dozen Lego laid out in a line, with a few more put on top of them, but you're sure, given time, you and the Babies can make this into a proper Safe Place! You have the Smarty Baby to help you, after all!
>Once it's done, you'll put one of Daddy's shirts across the top to make a roof, so the Babies can stay hidden and be safe. They have to hide, it's not safe right now.
>Once you can find Daddy, you'll both go outside and deal with this 'Cobble'! She has to leave, or admit she can't be White's Mumma! Now! You can't feel safe so long as she's in the Yard, scheming to take your precious Baby away, she could sneak into the house somehow, and steal not just White, but your other babies too!
>"Mumma! Wego!" Red chirps happily, nuzzling your belly as she waits eagerly for her turn to 'help'. "Wan' buw ... bui'wy ... wan' Wego haf Huggies!"
>Hmm hmm hmm, some words still escape your Babies, Red has such a funny face as she tried to say 'build'.
>"Oh'tay. Mumma hewp Wed buiwd Safe Pwace." You promise your Baby, reaching down to pick up Red between your hooves, leaning over so the Foal can inspect the pile of giant kindergartener Lego blocks. "Which cowow yuu wan?"
>"Ummm ... ummm .... wed! Wan wed Wego! Wed wike Mumma!" Red Baby cheeps, wiggling her front legs towards a large red Lego block on top of the pile, and your heart swells with love.
>There truly is nothing in your world you love more than your Babies. Well ... Bruce and Daddy come a close second, but your Babies are your whole world now.

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>Be Cowbell, shifting from hoof to hoof nervously as the Hoomin cradles Cobble's Green Baby in one hand, holding the Not-Mumma Milkies-thing in the other so that the Green Baby can have some Not-Mumma Milkies.
>Cobble is watching this from the grass, but her mouth is occupied with grazing. She's grazing so hard she's actually eating all the way down to the white bits under the green parts of the grass, but she's eating now, at least.
>The Hoomin explained that since Cobble had no milk, he'd feed Green for now, and when Green was full of milk, and Cobble had a full belly, he would talk with her about the White Baby.
>You know the Hoomin won't relent. He loves Silk, you can see it in the way he treats her, and he'll fight to keep her and her babies happy. Cobble must understand that she isn't the White Baby's Mumma anymore, it knows a different Mumma's Song, and she can't take it back.
>You don't want Cobble to cry anymore, but she has to understand. You are the Smarty Friend, and you've told everyone to listen to this Hoomin and do what he says. He's nice now, but you fear if Cobble and the other rebellious Mares push him too far, he'll chase the Herd around with his Wa-Wa Toy, and this time there's too many of you, and not enough hiding places.
>At least the Colts and Fillies are behaving themselves now. The Filly who kept on trying to seduce the Colts has had a very thorough dressing-down by her Mumma about wanting to be a Special Huggies Mare, which reduced the salacious Filly to tears on the spot, and the rest are just soooo happy to be reunited with their parents.
>The Doggy Not-Munsta is a great help too, which is strange, as most Doggy Munstas are just that, Munstas that like to chase Fluffies and hurt them, just for fun. This 'Bruce' loves to play 'roll on the grass' and 'chase the tail', but despite being so-so-so big, he's quite gentle.
>A little bit silly too, you feel, but if the Hoomin really is telling the truth, then this Doggy Not-Munsta is still a 'Colt', and being silly is to be expected. By the First Fluffy, though, you're still trying to wrap your head around how big he will be when he's a fully-grown Munsta ...
>"Mumma ... pway?" One of your Babies cheeps, looking up at you, then Bruce, then you again, before breaking into a big smile. "Pway! Duh'geh! Pway duh'geh!"
>Now you sigh. Your baby wants to play with the 'Duh'geh', or Doggy, again.
>You can't blame the baby. The Doggy Not-Munsta is very soft, very warm, and feels very safe now that you and the majority of the Herd understands he's nice.
>Even for the oldest Fluffies, lying by his side, snuggled into his fluff, you can easily pretend you're just a Foal, just barely old enough to open your eyes, and that the Doggy Not-Munsta is a Big Fluffy that can save you from, well, everything.
>Finally, despite all your attempts to make your baby go back to nursing, because your teats really hurt right now, there's so much milk in them, both Babies are now tugging on your fluff, chanting "Duh'geh! Pway! Duh'geh! Pway!"
>The Hoomin just chuckles softly as you shuffle past him, you babies sitting just behind your shoulders, bouncing up and down on their rears in their eagerness to play with their friend, cheeping and peeping as their excitement makes them forget the few words they do know.
>Cobble just gives you a rebellious look as you walk past with two happy, cheering babies, and you wince and mutter "Sowwy, Hoomin wiww tawk tu yuu soon." and shuffle as fast as you can past her.
>This 'Bruce' lifts his massive head to look at you, face crinkling into a smile, and his tail starts to beat on the ground eagerly as he hears your two Babies cheering for him. No sooner do you reach his side, however, than you feel something tug on your tail.
>Oh, poopies, it's Cobble and a couple of the other Mares, all glaring at you. You recognise the other Mares as the few Mares who stubbornly refused to believe that the White Baby could actually be a Good Baby.
>"Wi-wiww tawk in jus' wittwe bit." You tell them loudly, shuffling over to Bruce's head and urging your babies to climb down and have their 'play' with Bruce. "Jus' nee' tu wet Baybehs down fiwst."
>"Nu, dat wat Fwuffies wan' tawk 'bout." One of the Mares snaps angrily, advancing a step on you with a scowl across her face. "Dis nu guud, Cowbeww! Yuu teww nu-twuff's tu Hewd, teww us dat Bad Baybehs can be guud! Make Cobbwe cwy an' cwy, teww hew dat hew Bad Baybeh is guud, BUH YUU NU WET HEW KEEP BAYBEH!"
>"If is Guud Baybeh, why Cobbwe nu get tu keep? Dat Wed Mawe steaw White Baybeh, teach it wong Mumma Song, an' yuu nu hewp! Yuu is nu Smawty Fwiend, yuu is twai'tow! Wisten tu Hoomin an' make Hewd wisten su he gif yuu nummies fo' yuu Baybehs, dat aww yuu do!" Another demands, glaring at you with a furious look in her eyes.
>"Yuu nu bettah den dah Pink Smawty Fwiend! Take Baybehs 'way fwom Guud Mummas an' wet Bad Mummas keep dem!" A third Mare insists, and now there's a half-circle of these angry Mares surrounding you, with your back to Bruce and your babies peeping in fear, sandwiched between you and the Doggy Munsta.
>"Nu! NUUU! Nu am wike dat Bad Fwuffie!" You shout back, waving your front legs at the Mares and puffing your cheeks, trying to look bigger and more intimidating. "Yuu aww heawd White Baybeh! Sing Siwk's Mumma-Song, nu sing Cobbwe's Mumma-Song. If White Baybeh sing Cobbwe's Mumma-Song, den White Baybeh be Cobbwe's Baybeh, buh it nu happen dat way."
>"Fewn nu knew, Cobbwe nu knew, Cowbeww nu knew, nu Fwuffie knew dat Bad Baybehs jus' haf sickies an' need Miwkies an' Wuv an' Huggies tu feew bettah!" You find yourself shouting at the top of your lungs as the Angry Mares bunch closer and closer around you, shrilly demanding you give the White Baby back to Cobble, or that you give it the Longest Sleepies like a Smarty should do.
>And then they start fighting amongst each other, Cobble and her closest friends turning on the Mares calling for the White Baby to die in a fury, screaming that the other Mares are Really Bad Fluffies for even suggesting that, and then those Mares turn around and shriek that Cobble and her friends are just so stupid for believing the story about Bad Babies becoming Good that they're dumber than the rocks in the garden!
>"HEWD! Hewp Smawty! Mus' stawp Mawes hafin' fite! Dwag dem 'pawt, gif dem Huggies tiww dey wisten!" You shout, waving franticly for the Stallions to aid you, and shortly the Herd has driven back the Angry Mares and divided them into two furiously spitting groups, though not without a few of your Herd nursing bruised cheeks and noses that the Angry Mares whacked or kicked while they were being separated, while the Hoomin looks on with an unhappy look on his face.
>"Wite! Aww Foaws, Fiwwies an' Cowts gu haf cuddwes wit' Doggy Fwiend, Smawty Fwiend mus' tawk tu Siwwy Mawes!" You manage to yell again over the top of the two groups of furious Mares, and the younger Fluffies are only too eager to comply, to get away from their 'scawy' Aunts and Mummas.
>Bruce whines unhappily behind you, but at least your babies, your precious, precious babies, are safe, huddled up against the Doggy Not-Munsta's broad, fluffy chest and under his massive head. They're safer there than, well, anywhere else in the world, or so you believe.
>Yo try several times to make yourself heard over the spitting, screaming arguements of the Angry Mares, but they've been driven into a fury by all the hurtful things that have happened over the past few days, so you have no choice but to make your Good Fluffies hold the muzzles of the Angry Mares shut while you try to make them understand ...
>"Yuu saw White Baybeh wun tu Siwk. Yuu heawd White Baybeh sing Siwk's Mumma-Song. Why yuu stiww bein' Meanies? Yuu tink Smawty Fwiend nu cawe dat Cobbwe haf heawt-owies? Dat Smawty nu cawe su wong as hew Baybehs haf miwkies?" You scold, stomping back and forth between the two piles of struggling, furious Mares. "Yuu tink Cowbeww du tu yuu, wat' Bad Mumma an' Fewn an' Pink Baw'stawd Smawty Fwiend du? Is yuu heads fuww of poopies? Yuu tink afta Cowbeww de Smawty haf tu gu thwu aww dat wit' yuu, Cowbeww gon' du de same?"
>"Yuu tink jus' one day aww it take tu fow'get? Cowbeww cwy fo' so wong when had Bad Baybehs, an' Pink Baw'stawd nu hewp! Make Cowbeww an' aww Hewd weave Safe Pwace, an' nu take Bad Baybehs 'way wike a Guud Smawty Fwiend shouwd! Buh dere nu such ting as Bad Baybehs! Siwk show us dat! Baybehs jus' need Mummas tu be pay'shent, tu wuv dem tiww dey make sickies come owt in dere pee!"
>"Yuu tink Cowbeww nu feew bwoken inside tuu? Dat Cowbeww nu feew wike cuwl up an' haf wongest sweepies fwom heawt-owies? Mah baybehs aw dead, an' dey nu had tu gu 'way an' haf Wongest Sweepies! Why yuu be Meanies tu Cowbeww an' Hewd? Yuu tink dis funneh fo' us tuu, haf' tu wemembah owr Baybehs dat we wet haf Wongest Sweepies, 'cause we aww Dummeh Fwuffies? IS DAT WAT YUU TINK?"
>Now you're the one yelling furiously, glaring at Cobble and her Friends, and then at the other pile of Angry Mares.
>The rest of the Herd is shaking, either in anger or sadness or fear, you don't know, because there are hot tears in your eyes now, making everything blurry.
>Tears of rage, of frustration, of sadness and loss. How dare these Mares say that you're being selfish? They left their babies behind for Sketties! You understand their feelings, the Pink Bastard was driving you mad with his cruelty and his unfair treatment of the Mares, but you're not like him, you care about the entire Herd, otherwise you would have just told the Hoomin to toss all the other Fluffies out and let you and your babies stay with Silk and her babies!
>"And on that note." A voice booms, and you look up to see the Hoomin standing behind your Herd, the Green Baby peeping nervously in his hand, the Not-Mumma Milkies-thing tucked under his arm and an angry frown plastered across his face. "The, uhmmm, 'Hoomin' wants to speak too."
>Oh ... poopies.

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>Be the Owner of Silk and Bruce, scratching you head and sighing in defeat.
>You do feel for the Fluffies, the Ferals have terrible lives, are bullied by everything, and the few bright moments of their lives seem to fade away before they get the chance to fully enjoy life. And now, this 'Herd' is fragmenting.
>There's three 'piles' now, Cowbell and the majority of the Fluffies, by your porch, the three angry Mares who demanded that the Albino Runt be put to death, and Cowbell and her three friends, who demanded that the White Baby be given back to Cobble, even though she had no milk and both her babies had rejected her.
>The Green Foal refuses to have anything to do with Cobble, even when fed, and after you and Cowbell spent some time telling him that his 'Meanie Mumma' really did love him, he just writhed in the palm of your hand and squealed in distress every time you tried to tell him this, while Cobble looked on with haunted eyes, hugging herself and shaking.
>As a further blow to the Mares who don't want to be part of Cowbell's Herd anymore, their Fillies and Colts chose to stay with the Herd.
>"Is guud Fwuffy, Mumma! White Baybeh is guud Fwuffy, pway wit' White Baybeh, nu smeww bad, nu is meanie, gifs wuv an' huggies an' is nice Fwuffie!" One Colt has tried to explain to his angry Mother, before she bopped him on the nose, burst into tears and ran away.
>Poor little sod just sat there, nursing his bleeding muzzle with a stunned expression on his face. He probably had no idea about the old wounds he'd just opened up with that innocent attempt to 'explain' to his mother.
>So. Looks like it's going to be a loooong night. Cowbell and her Herd will spend the night on your porch with Bruce, the two groups of Mares can stay on the grass, and Silk will stay inside with her babies.
>Jesus. Wasn't this supposed to be a mercy mission on your part? Now you're separating the Herd into groups so they don't start fighting again ...
>Cowbell, for her part, is very torn up over her Herd breaking apart, but the older Fluffies console her and tell her that this happens with every Herd, Smarties often lose Fluffies when they take over a Herd, better for these Fluffies to leave now than stay and cause trouble for her later on.
>Still, she's calming down, slowly, and Silk has cautiously rejoined you outside, both of the Mares sitting side by side in Bruce's bed, overseeing the Foals as they run in small circles on the padded floor of the Saint Bernard's basket, cheeping "Hii hii hii hii!" happily as they race after each other's tails.
>There's Cowbell's two Foals, the Green Foal who is nearly deliriously happy to be reunited with Silk, Silk's three babies and several slightly older Foals who tend to be somewhat more co-ordinated than their younger counterparts, and thus are the 'Chase-ees', letting the younger Foals chase their tails.
>Those Fluffies that stuck by Cowbell have formed a protective wall between their Smarty Friend and the other Mares, and Bruce lies down behind them, staring into his bed as the Foals rush around all over it, although you can see a lot of the Herd's Fluffies waving sadly to the two much-smaller groups.
>The 'Angry' Mares just huff and turn their faces away, though Cobble's group waves back, but doesn't approach.
>Midway through you trying to support Cowbell's stance on a great many of her 'policy changes', Cobble rushed up and tried to snatch one of her new Smarty Friend's foals, either to use as a hostage or to claim as her own, you're not entirely sure, and Bruce acted of his own accord.
>Wether he was startled by the angry shouting, or he sensed Cobble's intent, Bruce whipped his head around, smacked the Feral mare right across the side and sent her flying right back into her friends, who in turn tumbled back in a ball, flattening a large portion of the Herd as they went.
>You would have laughed, but then you remembered how fragile a healthy, tame Fluffy is, how fragile would Ferals who ate whatever they could find be?
>Lots of bruising, almost a dozen Fluffies bawling like terrified three-year-olds and steaming piles of terror-loosed 'messes' left behind by the Fluffies, but nobody was really hurt.
>"Right! Bruce says, nobody is hurting any babies! ANY! You see Bruce? He was a 'Bad Baby', but look at him! He's big, healthy, strong and gentle, except when Bad Fluffies hurt babies!" You shouted over the bawling, whining tangle of Fluffies as they started to bicker over who had hurt who. "If you're going to be Bad Fluffies, you can leave, right now! No food, no hugs, nothing! But the Good Fluffies who listen to Cowbell, who want to save all their Babies, can stay for the night."
>Not surprisingly, the Angry Mares refused to leave without their Colts and Fillies, who wouldn't go with their Mummas. The young Fluffies had played with White earlier, and found nothing wrong with him other than his 'funneh wed eyes', and thus thought their Mothers were being Meanies. They obviously wanted to be with their Mothers, but the fact that the Herd had split up, the Mares 'abandoning' the Foals earlier to get Sketties, was still fresh in their minds.
>Cobble and her crew, on the other hand, were most certainly willing to protect the babies, but they wanted the Albino Runt back for Cobble, even when you pointed out that Cobble had produced zero milk at all, despite grazing for the better part of an hour.
>"Nu, is oh'tay, haf miwkies soon as haf Baybehs bawk!" They assured you ... smiling at you as if expecting that blatant lie would assure you.
>Wait, would she ...? Is that why she's ... no, that's stupid, all mammals produce milk after birth, no matter if they have young still with them or not!
>............ Shit, they're a nightmarish collection of conflicting genetic quirks and genetic splicing that causes the sharpest minds of modern science to start flipping tables every time somebody tries to understand how in the hell Fluffies work on a genetic level. And they do have a hell of a lot more experience with their own young than you do.
>"Silk, Cowbell, I have to go inside and check something that the Other Mares said very quick, I'll be back in a little while." You say softly, crouching down to pat both of the Mares. "I want the rest of you to keep on being Good Fluffies, and I'll see if I can get you some Spaghetti as a treat."
>Cowbell nods, but Silk looks up in alarm, reaching for your hand with both front hooves.
>"Nuuu, Daddy, scawy Mawe stiww hewe, nu wan' hew steaw White Baybeh!" Silk whispers to you, looking horrified. "Scawy Cobbwe mus' weave, owr Siwk's baybehs gon' be scawedies an' get snatched by Cobbwe!"
>"Is oh'tay, Fwiend Siwk, Hewd wiww keep yuu an' Baybehs safe. Cobbwe know she an' fwiends in big twoubwe if they make yuu cwy owr angwy." Cowbell sighs, leaning her head on Silk's shoulder, apparently still a little depressed after today's rollercoaster of shocks and drama. "Dese aww Guud Fwuffies who nu wan' gif yuu twoubwe, owr scawe yuu. Bad Smawty gon' now, Fwuffies can be Guud 'gain, pwomise."
>Well, Bruce is there and on high alert, the Herd proper and Cowbell know how things stand, you should be okay.
>Fire up the computer, search for 'Fluffy Mare Teats' ......
>.......................
>Go back and reset your filter for 'child friendly'.
>Fucking Internet Rules, you did not need those images burned into your brain.
>Here we go ... huh.
>Fluffy Mares produce milk constantly, albeit slowly, during their pregnancies, and for the first two-to-three weeks of the lives of their offspring.
>Nothing about them needing the stimulation of a Foal's suckling to help produce more milk ... ah!
>There we go. An additional chapter to the wiki, added by a user, addressing the subject. Milk is produced faster if the teats are stimulated for long periods by the suckling actions of the Foals, to a certain extent at least.
>Too long without that stimulation, however, and the body will take this as a sign that the Mare has 'lost' her Foals and will cycle itself back into Estruss as fast as it can. According to the information, it takes about 24 hours without a Foal nursing before a Mare's body starts the process,  and after that, another 48 hours before she starts to produce eggs to be fertilized again.
>But Green wants nothing to do with his mother, in fact the only milk he's getting right now is a ration from Cowbell and your Milk Formula. And there's no way in hell Cobble is getting her hooves on White or another one of Silk's Foals to help with the ....
>.......... You just had a wonderful idea.
>A wonderful, terrible idea.

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>While you were inside, Everybody has piled into Bruce's bed, the Saint Bernard lying in a half-circle up against the raised rim at the back of the bed, with the Herd in a three-Fluffy-high hugpile at his belly, with Silk the Green Foal and her three Foals in the 'place of honor' under Bruce's big boof head. Silk is awake, but all the Foals are deep asleep ...
>Cowbell, however, is not a part of the Hug-Pile. She's depositing her two Foals with Silk, but behind her are the Orange and Purple Foals, giving each other too-tight-huggies again.
>Freaking two days old, man. Two days old, and already they're trying to bear-hug each other to death.
>While Cowbell's Herd is occupied with their Hug-Pile, you plug in the kettle, set it to boil and shake a half-cup of milk-formula and several teaspoon's worth of sugar into the formula bottle. Despite what the Mares said, Cobble's pretty much producing no milk whatsoever right now, so after the demonstration is over, you'll have at least one hungry Foal to feed.
>Still, this is perfect for what you have planned.
>"Cowbell, I have something to ask. Can we get Cobble over here? I want her to show the Green Baby that she is a good mother." You say softly, kneeling next to the new Smarty Friend. "If we can show Green how gentle and sweet his mother can be, maybe he'll let her try to be his mother again."
>"Mmmmm." Cowbell replies, rubbing a hoof on her chin as the Orange and Purple Foals fall over and start rolling around on the wooden floor of your porch, trying to bite each other's ears. "May'beh. Buh ... nu, is onwy way. Gween tink dat his Mumma nu wuv him, show Gween dat his Mumma wuv him an' wan gif him wuv an' miwkies an' huggies."
>"May'beh if Gween sees Cobbwe bein' Guud Mumma fow dose twu ... Fwuffies, Gween wisten an' wet Cobbwe be Gween's Mumma 'gain." Cobble finishes, eyes half closed in thought, and you swear you can hear the gears grinding in her head.
>Well, the Smarty Friend's given your plan the green light, so while Cowbell shuffles off to get Cobble, you turn around and explain the plan to Silk, who'se relieved that you're taking steps to make Cobble 'be good', but also insists that you take and hide her babies.
>Fair enough, remove temptation from the equation, so you pick up Silk's three foals and place them on the cheap coffee-table you use for your morning coffee, whispering to them that they are playing a game, and have to hide for a little while.
>Three sleepy "Yay, pway hidey!" comments later, the three Foals are back to sleep under a sheet of newspaper, and you're back at Silk's side.
>Green is, predictably, more than a little upset at being deprived of the company of his 'siblings', but being nuzzled from behind by Silk for moral support makes him quickly calm down as the rest of the Herd starts to mumble and ask why Cobble is talking to the 'Bad Mawes'.
>For the third time, you explain the plan, and barely finish before you hear Cobble and Cowbell bickering as they awkwardly climb up the steps to your porch.
>"Nu wan gif miwkies tu Meanie Baybehs! Dey steaw aww Cobbwe's miwkies aww weady!" Cobble fumes, cheeks puffed out, but obviously the chance to emotionally reconnect with at least one of her Foals is enough for her to agree. "Yuu gif miwkies, yuu haf wots!"
>"Fo' poopies sake! Cobbwe, yuu stiww nu wisten!" Cowbell groans in exasperation as the two bickering Mares are followed up the steps by Cobble's three whispering friends. "Yuu gon' show Gween Baybeh yuu is nu a Meanie Mumma! Yuu show Gween by pwayin' nice wit' Fewn's Baybehs, su Gween know yuu du wuv him an' wan' be a pwoh'pah Mumma."
>The rest of the Herd watches avidly, intriqued to see what their new Smarty Friend has planned as Cowbell fusses over Cobble, making her sit just right, then grooming her, then making Cobble sit in a slightly different posture until the Smarty Friend thinks everything is as perfect as she can manage.
>"Wite! Cobbwe gon' show Gween Baybeh dat she is nu Meanie Mumma, she gon' gif wuv an' miwkies tu Baybehs, 'cause Cobbwe wuv Baybehs, hew Baybeh most of aww!" Cowbell says loudly, taking a special emphasis on the solitary 'baby', which makes Cobble scowl angrily.
>"Whewe awe Meanie Baybehs? Whewe Owange an' Puw'puwe?" Cowbell asks loudly, and on cue, you reach down and pluck the two bratty Foals from their 'hiding' place behind Bruce's bed, where the two orphaned Foals dangle from the scruffs of their necks, peeping angrily at each other.
>If the 'scruff' hold didn't render them nearly paralyzed, you're sure they'd be flailing at each other madly. These two have developed a deep and abiding hatred for each other, it seems.
>Still as soon as you put them down near Cobble, the two gain target-lock on her teats, pitifully small as they are, and charge as fast as their tiny legs will allow, racing each other for the prize.
>Cobble glares at the two Foals, even though she's got a big smile on her face as she plays pretend, but the two brats pay absolutely no attention whatsoever, latching on to a teat each and starting the standard kneading trick to try and get the teat to express more milk, but after a few mouthfuls ....
>"Nyeeeeeee..." Orange whines, pulling back to glare at her spit-covered teat, then strikes it with a soft hoof, barely a tap, but Cobble whimpers and flinches, and then Orange attacks the teat, gumming it with her soft little mouth, trying to squeeze out more milk, making the poor Mare gasp in pain.
>Purple rears back from his teat as well, but rather than strike Cobble, the little bastard pushes away, gets to all fours, and then turns and rushes at Orange, tackling his sister.
>With a startled peep, Orange lets go with an audible pop and the two bratty Babies roll around in front of Cobble, peeping and squeaking angrily.
>Cobble is sitting there, sobbing in frustration while the rest of the Herd whispers or shouts encouragement to her, and Cowbell is the loudest of all.
>"Is nu yuu fauwt, Cobbwe, dose Baybehs awe bad, aw'ways fite, aw'ways steaw miwk, nu yuu fauwt!" The Smarty Friend shouts, holding the Green Baby in her hooves. "See, Gween, yuu Mumma such a Guud Fwuffy, she even twy tu wuv dose twu Meanie Baybehs!"
>The Green Foal just hangs there and whines pitifully. "Mumma gif miwk tu meanies! Nu miwk fo' Gween! Mumma nu wuv Gween! WAN WED MUMMA!"
>"Nuu-huu .... nuuuuuu! NUUUUU! Dat miwk fo' MAH BAYBEH! GIF MIWK BACK!" Cobble shrieks, leaning forward and slapping the two babies apart with her hooves, then pressing down on their bellies, making the two bratty foals burp and squeal in distress. "YUU NU STEAW COBBWE'S MIWK NU MOAR! DAT FO' MAH BAYBEH! MIWK FO' MAH BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEH!"
>Before she can crush the two bratty Foals, you rushed forwards and picked her up, and even held in your hands, Cobble shrieks and reaches for Purple and Orange, screaming at them to give back her milk, it belongs to her baby, give it back, give it back, meanie babies will give back her milk!
>Cowbell carefully puts Green down by her side, babbling that his Mumma really isn't a Meanie, she's just been bullied by the Mumma of the Meanie Babies, please be good and sit still while Cowbell helps his Mumma.
>The Herd comes tumbling out of Bruce's bed, babbling anxiously as they circle the two bratty Foals, but nobody is game to give them huggies or any other form of comfort, they're afraid of more Sorry Poopies like what the poor Filly had to endure earlier.
>"Yuu ... an' yuu! Take Meanie Baybeh's 'way! Put dem in Sowwy Howes!" Cowbell points at two of the older Mares, glaring harshly at the two gasping, coughing Foals. "Yuu such Meanie Baybehs! Cobbwe gif yuu miwk, even afta yuu steaw aww hew miwk be'fowe, an' stiww yuu be Meanies tu hew!"
>As you put Cobble down, she's rapidly mobbed by the Herd, all telling her she's not a Bad Fluffy, that they still love her, that they'll help her get better nummies so she can make more milk quickly for her one baby.
>Green, for his part, is sitting down next to Cowbell, where the Smarty Friend placed him, staring at the crying, shaking Mare being hugged by the rest of the Herd with wide eyes, mumbling to himself.
>Well, fuck, this backfired spectacularly. You had intended to make Cobble look like a Good 'Mumma', but now she just looks psychotic. Green's going to be terrified of her after this.
>Rather than risk any more shenanigans, you walk quickly over to Silk, pick her up, then over to the coffee table, handing her three foals, now crying at all the yelling they just heard, and place them on her belly, and duck inside.
>You'll get them secured, then go outside again and see if Cowbell is willing to let you take care of Green permanently.

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>Be Green, and you're stunned.
>Your Mumma ... doesn't want to give the Meanies your milk? It's all for you?
>They stole the milk? But you remember Mumma letting them come and take her milk ...
>"Pwease, wuv yuu Mumma, is nu hew fauwt." The Smarty Friend whispered to you, nuzzling your head before shuffling over to try and comfort your Mumma. "Dere was a Meanie Mumma who buwwied yuu Mumma, make hew gif hew miwk to de Meanie Baybehs. Cobbwe weawwy du wuv yuu, Smawty Fwiend pwomise."
>Mumma was bullied into giving her milk to the Meanies by an even bigger Meany? Does that mean she was telling the truth when she nipped you, that she didn't mean to hurt you?
>But .... you don't want to be bullied either. You want to be with the Red Mumma, but she's gone away now ...
>Slowly, you get to your hooves and toddle forwards to the bigger Fluffies, many of whom have stopped hugging your Mumma and are talking with the Smarty Friend.
>"Wat Hewd gon' do wit' Meanie Baybehs? Dey huwt Mummas, aw'ways fite, dey nu guud Fwuffies." One Stallion murmurs, glaring out into the Big Green Place, where you can see several bigger Fluffies digging in the ground.
>"Nu know. Nu wan' weave Baybehs behind, nu afta aww we haf weawned, buh dey is su Meanie, nu shuwe if dey can be Guud Fwuffies someday." The Smarty Friend replies, sighing heavily. "Maybeh if ev'wy Fwuffy hewp, teach dem, gif dem paddwes tiww dey wisten, den dey can be Guud Fwuffies."
>You trundle past the bigger Fluffies, who talk about things that quite simply fly over your little head, and stop just short of your Mumma, who has her hooves over her face, sobbing and whimpering to herself.
>She's so sad ... because the Meanies hurt her too. You want to run, to hide from her, but you think about what she said when the Meanies tried to take your milk away from her again. How angry your Mumma was, how sad and angry about what they were doing.
>You think about how the Red Mumma loved you, even when she thought you were scary. About how her Babies shared with you, played with you, hugged you, even after you scared them at first.
>It's scary, you remember your Mumma as a Meanie, but you finally managed to force the words out.
>"Hu ... huggies? Mumma gif huggies?" You ask hesitantly, reaching out with a hoof, and your Mumma pulls her hooves away from her face, staring at you in surprise with big, eyes all red from crying.
>She hiccups once more, then leans down, picks you up between her hooves, and then hugs you to her chest, singing her Mumma-Song softly as she gently nuzzles the top of your head.
>"Mumma wu-wuv yuu, nu wan yuu gu-huu-huu." Mumma sobs, holding you so tightly against her chest that you're almost completely covered by her fluff. "Mu-mumma nu haf 'nuff miwk now, buh wiww soon, pwomise, pwomise baybeh, Mumma wuv yuu, wan' yuu nu haf tummeh owies. Meanies gone, nu meanies tu take yuu miwk nu moar."
>Being held by your Mumma like this feels ... right. But inside, you still can't help but shake the terrors she gave you before.
>But you'll try. She is your Mumma, after all.

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>Be the Owner of Silk and Bruce, taking a long, slow sip of your coffee and wondering whose karmic pool you peed in to warrant this weekend's shenanigans.
>It's been one hell of a day. While the drama with Cobble and the two bratty Foals was going on, the three Mares who demanded the death of the Albino Runt made a bee-line for the hole and escaped your yard, totally abandoning their own offspring. Cowbell and the Herd were mortified at this, and immediately set to refilling the hole as best they could, babbling about 'Twaitows'.
>Cobble and the Green Foal have reconciled somewhat, which is a load off your mind. You were worried about Silk caring for four Foals, and also about the mental trauma it would cause Cobble to have you 'take' her final baby away.
>Green is still a bit leery of his mother, and Cobble is overly protective to the point of smothering him in affection and fluff in equal parts, but at least they're together.
>Poor Cobble, she had no milk left after the absymal failure of a plan you cooked up, but after a few minutes of explanation, you managed to get her to understand how the Fluffy Formula worked, and she held the bottle steady under her while Green suckled on the plastic teat, humming her little song to her baby with the biggest smile you've ever seen on a Fluffy's face.
>Bruce watched it all from his bed, noticed you looking at him, waggled his eyebrows at you and then rolled over and went to sleep. Bloody dog ...
>Silk, for her part, was watching everything from the edge of the doggy-door, peering out through the gap between the door proper and the metal flap. You'll have to speak to her later, but for now, the Ferals do have priority.
>Because Cowbell told you that the Herd had decided they did not want to go to the Shelter. They wanted to go back home, to try and be a family again.
>You don't blame them. They've suffered enough emotional body-blows over the past two days to last a lifetime, in addition to the problems they're taking on now.
>The Orange and Purple Foals got put into new Sorry Holes dug at the very edges of the Hug-Pile, then had Mares who were not producing Milk crouch over the top of them. No food, no emotional support, only the bare minimum contact needed so that they wouldn't freeze overnight. Cowbell is determined that those two Foals are going to be 'Good Fluffies', even if it is a living torture for everyone involved.
>The Sorry Holes are much, much deeper than before, and lined with bits of grass for bedding, and not much else. Even if the Foals stretch up as high as they can, they will at best be able to brush the very tips of the belly-fluff of the Mares crouching over their Sorry Holes.
>And now you're looking in on the shed, where the former Smarty Friend and this 'Bad Mumma' are imprisoned, and watching as they have yet another screeching match.
>Something about who the Babies belong to ... jesus christ, she's pregnant already? Hopefully the Shelter Staff can find an adoptive mother for those Foals pronto, because that cannot be a healthy environment for a Fluffy to grow up in, trapped between those two wretches.
>Whatever else happens, these two have got to go. Releasing them back onto the streets would be just restarting the Herd's nightmare, so you've got to come up with a decent cover-story that the two asshole Fluffies can't blow up in your face to protect Cowbell's Herd from the staff at the local Fluffy Shelter.
>Tomorrow ... this all ends.