My Giant and Me (A Fluffy Pony Hugbox Story) Part 9

My Giant and Me, Part 9


>Be Bruce, the Saint Bernard.
>Yesterday, you made a lot of these Fluffies run away when they made your Friend, Silk, and her precious pups cry.
>These ones aren't making Silk cry, so they can stay.
>Also your Master seems to like them.
>Hooray! MORE Fluffies to play with!
>Thud Thud Thud
>HOORAY! Your tail is happy too!
>Fluffies crawling on your back, hugging your neck and chest, pushing your ball to you, and you nudge it back with your nose.
>Today!
>Is!
>The!
>Best!
>Day!
>EVER!

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>Be the Owner, keeping one eye on Bruce, your young Saint Bernard, but mostly paying attention to Silk and this 'Cowbell'.
>The Green Feral Foal and the Feral Mare's two Foals, both of whom have the same bright-orange coat as their Mother, and Silk's Red and Pink Foals are all asleep in Bruce's basket, cuddled together with the older Feral Foals who wanted or needed a nap.
>Silk's rubbing the back of this 'Cowbell' with her hoof as she sits at the Feral's side, offering what you assume are soothing comments just quiet enough all you can hear is the murmur, while the Feral Mare rocks the Albino Foal that Silk 'adopted' in her front hooves, still sobbing ten minutes after you came out with a bag of Silk's kibble, the biggest, shallowest bowl you could find and your second kettle.
>"Nu is bad Baybeh, is guud Baybeh ..." Cowbell whispers softly, sniffling, as White snores in her ... uhm, arms? "Bad Baybehs is guud Baybehs, jus' nee' miwk, den make stinky pee, den be guud ... den be g-guud ... Mumma is su sowwy, baybehs, Mumma is Stuuuuuupid, Mumma wuved yuu, su sowwy baybehs ..."
>"Yuu nu know. Siwk nu know eitha." Silk says again, this time loud enough for you to hear. "Siwk jus' tink baybeh stinky 'cause baybeh be in Bwuce's mouf ... Siwk feew scawed, tink Baybeh smeww bad-nasteh, buh Bwuce's mouf smeww bad-nasteh tu. "
>Seems this Cowbell had a breakdown when she realised that the Albino Runt was still alive. And apparently because it didn't smell 'bad' anymore, she's put two and two together and just sank into despair like the Titanic after that iceberg.
>You'd heard that Fluffy Pony 'Runts' had some sort of scent that caused almost immediate rejection by their normally all-loving kind. Makes almost every other Fluffy, Tame, Feral or Wild, reject them on the spot.
>While looking up information when Silk was bloating with her pregnancy, you saw some shocking stuff. Some Fluffies buried the 'Bad' Foal in their litter trays and left them there to suffocate, others butchered it on the spot, others refused to even touch it, even when their other Foals were taken away as 'punishment'.
>Seems they took the bitter scent and taste of the Foal as a mortal insult after carrying it inside them for so long, or as a sign of something horribly wrong with the Baby.
>Tame Fluffies could be brought around to care for the Runt if there was a substantial amount of trust and/or dominance between the Fluffy and the Owner, but most of the time the Tame Fluffy would bury the runt in the litterbox or let it starve to death.
>Ferals ... jesus. Most of the time they left the Runt under a bush or beneath some other form of cover to expire quietly and at a distance from the Herd, but some Herds inverted this and made it a rite of passage for the Mare to butcher her own Runt as a 'lesson' to not make 'Bad Babies'.
>The only 'cure' seemed to be spraying the Foal with another scent, one strong enough to cling to the fluff despite the constant grooming and cuddling the Foal would undergo during the first week of it's life.
>After the first few hours, assuming the parents didn't continue to consider the newborn to be 'bad', the Runt could be saved and grow up, but being Fluffy Ponies, moments in time or incidents that cause them extreme joy, sorrow or fear tend to stick in their memories, and having an offspring that seemed to reject them definitely was traumatic.
>Aluminium-based sprays tended to make the mother sickened and, in strong enough doses, cause long-term health issues with the Foal itself when the chemicals begin to enter the bodies of the Fluffy Ponies, while oil-based scenting agents tended to needed to be left to 'set' into the Foal's fluff, which could cause problems of it's own if the process took too long and the Mare began to try and forget about the trauma of her 'Bad' Foal.
>Seems Silk managed to find a way to beat her instincts on her own, and you're going to upload it to the relevant authorities later. Not sure how people will use the information, but maybe it can help somebody.
>Right now you need to make sure the Feral Mare doesn't steal the Albino Foal in her current state of despair. This Cowbell damn near broke her little mind, just sitting there, her legs hanging limp at her side, mumbling and staring blankly ahead as the other Fluffies crowded around her, crying with her eyes wide open as they babbled at her, asking what was wrong.
>"Baybehs jus' need Mumma tu wuv dem Mumma wuv yuu why nu nu nu is bad baybehs guud nu wuv guud baybehs dey guud baybehs am bad Mumma bad bad stuuuupid stuuuuuuupid Mumma miss baybehs wan wuv baybehs wan wuv dem wan gif miwk...."
>Yeaaaaah ... seems like she had a Runt or two somewhere in the past, and for a critter that seems to be hardwired to love, to have abandoned her own children, and then to see firsthand that they could have lived if she'd just kept them close, she's become dangerously depressed.
>Silk seems more concerned for the Feral Mare than worried about her Foal being stolen, but Silk's sorta ... spacy, even for a Fluffy.
>The thought probably isn't even likely to cross her mind until after the fact.
>Still feel like you're forgetting something ....

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>Hot. Too hot. You're covered in sweat and you're all itchy where the Smarty Friend is being Stuuuupid and won't stop hugging your leggies!
>You barely got enough of the cool water, because the Dummy Fluffy who pretends to be a Smarty wouldn't let you drink first!
>You're a Mare, and you'll soon be a Fluff Mumma, you can feel the Hot-Feels-Need-Huggies feeling surging through your body, you should get the first drink of water!

>Mummas need to have a lot of water, especially when they get the Hot-Feels-Need-Huggies feel. Lots of water, so the Babies sleeping inside them can have a lot to drink when the Special Huggies wake the babies up inside you!
>But the Smarty friend is stuuuuuupid like that. Always bringing other Mares back, making them cry because he bullies them, when he should be helping you look for your babies!
>Stuuuupid Dummy Smarty Friend, he needs to find your Babies, they are more important than anything else!
>But you're so hot ... stupid Hot-Feels-Need-Huggies, not now!
>The Dummy Smarty Friend can smell it happening too, you can hear him muttering, leaning into you one moment then pulling away and snarling meanie things at you the next.
>"Nee' make nu-pwetties." You grunt, struggling to stand up, but the Dummy Smarty Friend won't move! "Muv! Nee' make nu-pwetties! Nu wan make in bed!"
>"Stuuuupid Mawe nu wet Smawty get 'nuff wa-wa's. Smawty nu cawe if Stuuuupid Mawe make nu-pwetties on hew side of bed!" He snarls back, then turns his head away.
>Of all the stupid, selfish .... not-pretties will stink up the whole bed, not just one side! Idiot!
>Fine, he wants to be a meanie, let's see how he handles .... this!
>Make your pee in the bed, groaning in relief as your bladder empties ... then scowl as you feel your belly get wet.
>Yikky. At least your belly is cooler now.
>But time passes, and your Hot-Feels-Need-Huggies feelings get hotter and hotter, and the Metal Cave the Hoomin stuffed you into gets even hotter. Your pee has turned into steam, and you can smell the Hot-Feels-Need-Huggies scent rising with the steam.
>Dummy Smarty Friend has been making little jerky motions for some time now, you wish he'd stop doing that, it keeps tugging on your legs where the meanie electrical tape is holding you together.
>"Mmmmmm, Fwuffie nee' Stawwion, nee' haf baybehs in Mumma's tummeh wake up." You whisper softly, your tail lifting into the air as you day-dream about several of the cute Stallions in your Herd ... and then the Dummy Smarty groans and jumps up onto his hooves, dragging you with him!
>"Eeeenf! Wan haf -eeeenf- Speshaw Huggies!" He grunts, thrusting his hips and panting heavily, making you squeak in protest as his half-crouching posture and vigorous pumping movements make your sore back flare with pain! "Mawe, ge-eeeenf! Get unda Smawty -eeeenf- an' gif Speshaw -eeenf- Huggies!"
>"Nu wan yuu, wan Stawwion, nu wan Dummy Smawty!" You shout at him, and flinch when your eyes make contact.
>His eyes are open far, far too wide, and his pupils are tiny little dots that roam around those wide, white spaces franticly. You can smell the scent of his arousal in the air, and try to recoil ...
>But the electrical tape won't let go of your legs, so you and the Dummy Smarty stumble around, him humping the air and trying to jump onto your back, only to fling you both into the air and land roughly on the cage floor, you scrambling to get away and dragging him after you.
>"Nu nu nu nu nu!" You shriek at him in anger and fear, trying to pull away as much as you can.
>"Yah! Eeeenf! Yaaaah, EEEEENF!" He howls back in a frenzy of lust, trying to bite your ear and hold you in place, so lost in his need he's forgotten your legs are taped together so tightly he'll never be able to mount you.
>"Nu, Dummy Smawty Fwiend, nu wan Dummy Smawty Fwiend!" You shriek as you trip and fall against the side of the cage, and the Smarty Friend is there, bumping franticly against your flank, trying to get himself onto your back, screaming in your face in a wordless demand of lust, and you find yourself screaming back at him words you thought you'd never say.
>"Nu wan baybeh's dummy baybehs! NU WAN BAYBEH'S BAYBEHS!"

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>Be Green ... and you're trying to understand this warm, fluttery feeling welling up deep within your being.
>A big pile of other Fluffies crowded around you, all hugging each other and you, warm and happy and full of the delicious Not-Mumma Milk-Nummies, sleeping or nearly asleep.
>Everyone is happy. Nobody is being mean. Everybody has had something to eat. No-one has saddies.
>You never thought life could be this good.
>The pale-blue Mumma is still hugging White, but she's stopped crying now, as both she and the Red Mumma are, in turn, being hugged by the Giant Thing.
>Not the Giant Fluffy, he walks on all fours and has fluff like a Fluffy should.
>No, the Giant Thing walks on two legs, has no Fluff, and is the owner of the scary, five-headed Munsta that carried you around.
>He's also the Thing-That-Gives-Not-Mumma-Milk-Nummies.
>You and the Blue Mumma's babies all agreed he was a Nice Thing, even if he was far too loud and big.
>You're hugging the Pink baby as she sleeps, marveling at how big and fat and round her belly is, and the Red baby is in turn hugging your back, nuzzling at the back of your head.
>So fat, so warm, so nice.
>And then, the Giant Thing has used it's five-headed Munsta ... hoof?
>Is that what it is?
>He's using it to put the White baby down on top of you ... woof, heavy, but the White baby chirps happily and lies down across you and Pink, nuzzling Pink baby and murmuring about 'Huggies' and 'wuv'.
>That's what you're feeling right now. 'Love'.
>Love for the Fluffies hugging you, telling you without words that they want to be with you, love for the Red Mumma who gave you huggies and comfort, even love for the Giant Thing and the Giant Fluffy for protecting you and giving you nummies.
>Love ... it's a wonderful feeling, filling your entire being with calm and soothing your worries away.
>You're so full of love, you don't even mind when one of the Other Foals that were with the Blue Mumma make the bed wet, although the Giant Thing sounds less than happy about it.

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>Be Cowbell ... and you've finally finished crying. Life on the streets hardened you to loss, but the realisation that the Bad Babies did not need to die hit you in a place you thought had been hardened to stone over the past few months.
>Silk is a great help, as is her Hoomin. Huggies for you until you could muster the strength to be brave again, Silk's constant stream of soothing words and the Hoomin's whispered "I'm sorry." as he stroked your mane keeping you from slipping back into the painful memories.
>All the Foals, Fillies and Colts are now asleep in a hug-pile in the Dog-Munsta-Friend's bed, although somebody peed, you can smell it. The Hoomin's not happy about that, but You and Silk assured him it was an accident.
>This 'Kibble' isn't bad nummies ... somewhat dry, but you can taste apples and ... something else.
>Silk says that her Hoomin will get you some milk to drink ... what? Drink milk to make milk? But then where does the milk you make come from?
>At least your babies got to drink their fill of this ... Not-Mumma Milk that the Hoomin offered. Every Foal got enough milk to stop complaining as well, and the Fillies and Colts were delighted with their share of the 'Kibble'.
>The Old Smarty Friend had spoken fondly of the Nice Hoomins the Herd had once been friends with, before new Hoomins came in and drove the Nice Hoomins away from their 'We-tiwe-ment Viw-age'.
>Seriously, Hoomins come up with all sorts of strange names for their Safe Places.
>But some things still nag at you ... where are Fern's babies? Where did the rest of your Herd get to? And why is the Hoomin keeping the Smarty Friend and the Bad Mumma around?
>You have an entire day to decide the fate of your .... your H-Herd. You have accepted that your Herd has disbanded, and you and the Foals have been abandoned.
>You could ask the Hoomin to let you go, like he promised, and try to find the other Mares, because they will be missing their babies and want to bring them into whatever Herd they have joined.
>The Stallions ... you're not sure if it would be a good idea to try to find them. There was so much screaming, so many evil, nasty things that they said that you're not sure can ever be taken back.
>"Cow'beww? Yuu oh'tay?" Silk asks, breaking your concentration as her muzzle bumps your cheek. "Yuu haf saddies 'gain? Yuu nu eatin'. Eat nummies, Daddy gon' back inside tu get miwkies fo' Cow'beww an' Siwk, su Fwuffies can gif wotsa miwk-nummies tu baybehs."
>"Suh-sowwy. Cow'beww jus' tinkin' 'bout Hewd. Miss dem ... even if dey be vewy siwwy an' mean tu each otha." You sigh and nuzzle Silk back before dipping your head down into the bowl to pluck a few more of the small, dry balls of 'kibble' and crunch them between your teeth. "Hewd nu be meanies tiww Pink Pegasus become Smawty Fwiend. Cow'beww miss hew fam'wy."
>"Siwk nu wike him. Meanie Pink Pegasus huwt Siwk, gif hew Scawy Huggies, make Siwk su scawed, su huwties inside, in No-No's, in chest." Silk puffs out her cheeks and glares at the shed, and you feel a surge of pity for this Mare, who had everything and nearly lost it because of the Smarty Friend. "Daddy say dat baw'stawd Pegasus an' Meanie White Mawe gon' stay in Sowwy Box tiww he tink of what tu do wit' dem."
>"Den .... Hoomin nu gon' make Cow'beww an' Foaws take dem wit' us?" You shout in surprise, accidentally spraying Silk with half-chewed Kibble. "We-Wea'wy? Nu haf take dem? Hewd be suuuu happeh, nu haf tu wisten tu Smawty Fwiend owr get Owies an' Huwties when he buck an' bite Stawwions?"
>"Daddy is nice, nu make yuu gu wit' Meanie Fwuffies if yuu nu wan tu. Daddy hewp Siwk, hewped Siwk's bwuddas an' sissys tuu, hewp dem find Mummy's an' Daddy's tu caww dere own." Silk giggles, rubbing her face on the grass to remove the spit-covered Kibble-flakes. "Nu wowwy, yuu haf aww day tu tink! Siwk hewp tu!"

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>Be the owner of Silk and Bruce, standing in the kitchen, watching the two Feral Foals squirm and wail as you gently wipe them off. Orange, the larger of the two and the the female, whines as the soft, wet tissue wipes her down, while Purple looks on with an angry, confused look on his face, his damp fluff plastered to his body.
>Somehow, between you putting them back in their bed-turned-sorry-box, and dealing with Cowbell and the Herd of young Fluffies, the two Foal managed to shit over everything.
>The blankets, the milk-bottles, but mostly each other. Jesus, that was disgusting. The smell was even worse, and despite everything you've tried, the Foals still stink to high heaven. You'd douse them with Febreeze, but according to the information you have, the aluminium in the spray could cause them cancer later on in life, or permanent mange from the get-go if they're allergic.
>Still, at least there's no more poop matting their fluff now, which is something, although the two still squeak "Nu!" and "Bad Baybeh!" and even gone so far as to try to bite each other with their soft, toothless gums, thus you've had to separate them to opposite sides of the sink.
>With their fluff damped down with the luke-warm water, their tiny bodies and large bellies look even more hilarious, you're unwilling to risk putting them back together. Wet fluff equals no padding, and even a Foal's kick could cause bruising, or worse. Orange in particular worries you, she's bigger, far more aggressive and, to put it bluntly, a selfish bitch.
>Without the natural barrier of their fluff, and the way the two Foals are acting towards each other, you'd put money down on them fighting the instant they get within range. And Orange would probably try to smush Purple again ...
>"Fern's babies ..." You whisper to yourself as the two Foals  shuffle around and present their backsides to each other, lifting their tails and squeaking "Nyeeeeeee!" angrily from opposite sides of the sink's bowl, but there's no material left in their body to make more 'sorry poopies'.
>So these babies belong to a Mare who abused her relationship with the Smarty Friend to get milk from other Mares to ensure her own offspring's survival. Only two days old, and these two Fluffy Pony Foals are well on their way to becoming just like their Father.
>You flash back to Silk's tears when you first came home, only just old enough to be called a Mare, hugging your Saint Bernard for comfort and sobbing about a 'Meanie' who had chased her, hurt her, pushed her into the dirt and put a big giant hurty thing into her No-No's.
>Some people you worked with told you to just abandon Silk somewhere else in town, others said it would be kinder to release her to a Feral Herd where she'd at least have company.
>Most just sighed and patted you on the back and told you "Nice guys finish last." when you bluntly pointed out it was wrong to abandon a helpless creature for actions beyond her control.
>It was the right thing to help Silk deal with what had happened, and you have to admit, with Silk becoming a mother, your life had started to brighten, before the Smarty Friend had shown up to ruin things again.
>You had thought it was just Fluffies following their nature, Silk must have gone into Heat, the Feral just acted on instinct, but after meeting the little pink arsehole yourself, and his Herd, and now Cowbell, you're fairly sure it's not nature that motivates these Fluffies.
>There's a pair of squeaks, and you curse as you look down. You drifted off again, and the two Foals, Orange and Purple, had tried to get to each other, and both tumbled down into the bowl of the sink, their wet fluff sticking to the metal surface so they slid slowly down the metal sides like fluffy slugs, and now they're shuffling towards each other, still stuck to the metal of the sink by their damp fluff, squeaking half-words at each other angrily.
>You've got a garbage disposal unit in the pipes under the sink ... you could solve this right now, let the Foals continue to 'charge' at each other until they reach the wide, open plug-hole and fall in, press the button and walk away.
>It would be over in seconds. They'd never even know what hit them, the garbage disposal can shred anything not metallic, razor sharp blades that can even chew up beef rib-bones like so much dry kindling.
>Silk would never be able to put two and two together after you filled the sink with hot water and detergent to wash away any blood splatters. You could tell Cowbell that the Babies had died, and you had buried them in a peaceful place, and it would be just one more horrible memory for her.
>"Meanie! Miiiine, miwk fo' Fwuffiiiiiiie!" The bigger, Orange Foal squeaks furiously, stomping exageratedly with her fluff sticking to the metal of the sink.
>"Nu, miwk fo' Best Baybeh! Is Best Baybeh!" Purple whines in protest, shuffling forwards and baring his gums in what you assume is a snarl.
>Just an inch more from both Foals, and they'll fall into the large plug-hole, and your little girl, and that poor Feral Mare, will never have to deal with them again.
>"Siwk wuv hew baybehs, su wunna'fuw! Siwk wuv dem, Siwk hewp hewr baybehs be Guud Fwuffies!"
>"Fewn aw'ways make Cow'beww an' Cobbwe gif up miwk fo' hew baybehs..."
>"Yuu is stuuuuuuuupid! Yuu suuuuuuuu ug'wee! HATE YUUUUUUUUUUUU!"
 >"Wuv! Wuv Wed Mumma! Pwease, nu cwy!"
>"Why Mumma guuuuu! Wuv Mumma, why Mumma nu take Fwuffie?"
>"Meanies! Meanies! Meanies!"
>.....................
>Just a few more steps, and the Foals will have sealed their own fate. They're destined to end in misery, they'll drag the Herd down with them, with their arrogance, their selfishness.
>Just two days old, and they're already on the path to self-destruction.
>Just two days old ....