Wastest Babbeh - 2

FractalFluff, February 27, 2014; 07:52 / FB 18580
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>Be a fine, upstanding fluffy owner.
>Loving, responsible, blah blah all that hugbox crap.
>Your mare, Bruna, is a great fluffy in may ways.
>She's sweet, affectionate, a wonderful mother to her foals.
>Unfortunately she's also a knucklehead.
>Even by fluffy standards.
>If brains were dynamite, Bruna couldn't even blow her nose.

>She foaled fairly recently
>Four lovely, healthy girls, all doing well.
>But an unfortunate quirk of fate led to the smallest of them being called Last.
>Bruna's tiny fluffy brain takes this to mean that the pegasus is her last baby.
>If Last is out of her sight, she can't be a mother anymore.
>It's confusing for the foal and devastating for her.

>The foals are marginally brighter than their mother
>Last understands that she needs to stay close to Bruna
>Or Bruna "has bigges saddies".
>She's very good about it, usually
>Even though they're almost old enough to be weaned, and getting to that adventurous stage.

>You've stuck some of those colourful magnetic letters to the fridge door
>They've grasped the concept of "letters" and "writing"
>Even get some of the names and sounds right
>Although the alphabet song defeats them.
>Their version is a potluck, but usually goes something like:
>"Ay bee see dee effy... dee... jay... lemonopy... tee... wy... bee... ZED! Sketties?"
>(Yes, the Roman alphabet is now under 20 characters long, and goes from A to Sketties.)

>They probably won't ever learn to read;
>But they're happy, and that's what matters.
>They like to play with the letters while you cook
>Their favourite game is arranging them into random groups
>Then asking you to read back the gibberish they've created.
>Apparently hearing you try to pronounce "Mrngl uop cbst" or "Hdelfsmt" is the height of comedy.
>They roll on the floor, kicking their hooves and clutching at their pudgy tummies.

>Things take a turn for the worse when Last falls ill.
>Complains of "feewin sickies" and having "tummeh owwies, Daddah!"
>Careful questioning reveals that she's swallowed at least two of the magnetic letters.
>You groan inwardly.
>It seems she thought the "fwidgy wettups" looked like the alphabet noodles you sometimes give them for a treat.
>Decided to see if they "tasties wike sketties."
>You know how serious this could be.
>Last needs the vet, ASAP
>You look at the panic on Bruna's fluffy face and realize you can't leave her behind.
>You bundle the whole fluffy family into their carrier and drive them to the vet.

>The scan reveals that it's not too serious
>She's chewed up the plastic casing and swallowed that, but must have spat out the actual magnets.
>Still, she's very unwell, and the vet wants to keep her in overnight.
>You explain the "wastest baby" issue
>The vet is sympathetic, being familiar with fluffy logic, but Last really needs to stay over
>And right now, there's just no room for her mother to stay there too.

>You go back to the carrier, ready to take your girls home
>"Miwkies, mummah? Pwease gif miwkies! Babbeh gut tummeh owwies," you hear Chiffon plead.
>Rosy and Bluebell join in.
>"Nu can gif miwkies, babbehs. Nu mowe am mummah," you hear Bruna say sadly.
>Nothing you say can persuade Bruna to let her foals nurse.

>This is ridiculous.

>You speak to the receptionist, asking if she'll phone through to the vet for advice
>But she's with another patient now.
>In any case, the receptionist insists that there's not much that can be done.
>"All I can suggest is a substitute," she says.

>The vet's assistant is collared on her way through reception
>And detailed to help you out.

>"Here, let's see if she'll take this little fellow," she says.
>She's holding a toy foal with purple fluff.
>"Nothing as sophisticated a Fluffcker's, of course; he's basically just a modified cat toy. Voice chip lets him talk, and a small motor makes him wriggle."
>She presses the "foal"'s tummy firmly with one thumb.
>Its eyes flash a couple of times.
>She holds the foal's head up to her mouth like a microphone.
>"Babbeh name am Wastest," she says, then thumbs the hidden button again.
>"Babbeh name am Wastest," repeats the foal
>The pitch of her voice has been shifted
>It sounds like the high, cartoony voice of a fluffy:

>"It has a couple of other pre-programmed phrases, like 'miwkies', 'wuv mummah' and so on," she elaborates,
>"And those play at random. But you can bring up the custom phrase at any time by pushing the stomach twice. Press and hold to go back to random. There's a random 'sleep' function that will turn it off completely for a while now and then, but you can have it sleep or wake up by squeezing its hindquarters." She demonstrates.
>"Babbeh sweeepee..." drawls the foal, closing its eyes.

>"Gotcha."

>She gives it a spritz of Foal-So-Good anti-rejection spray.
>Makes babies smell like the bestest baby on its best day ever!
>According to fluffy test subjects.
>To you, it has a mild caramel odour
>Like the scent of a human baby's pate.

>You take the "foal" over to the carrier.
>'Wake it up' by squeezing its butt
>Not something you'd want to try with a real fluffy
>Then show it to your fluffies.
>"Hey, fluffies, I brought a new baby to visit you."
>The fillies don't seem to know what to make of it.
>They don't recognize it as a toy
>But there's none of the "Nyu fwend!" and "Huggies?" prattle that usually accompanies an encounter with an unknown foal.

>Bruna is completely taken in, though.
>"Wha... babbeh? Yu am pwetty babbeh."
> *snf* *snf*
>"Yu am smeww vewwy pwetty!"
>She leans in
>Inhales the toy's smell for a long moment
>Nostrils flaring
>You want to laugh
>She's basically huffing the baby.
>She opens dilated eyes and asks: "Whewe... whewe yu mummah, babbeh?"
>"You're his mummah now."
>"Dat... nu... huh?"
>"He doesn't have a mummah. He'd like you to be his mummah."
>"Dat am a vewwy pwetty babbeh... an am smeww suuuuu pwetty... Bwuna wan dat babbeh be Bwuna's..."
>"He's a very good baby. He wants to come and be your foal."
>After blinking rapidly for a while, crossing her eyes with the effort of trying to integrate this new information, she says:
>"Buh... nu can be mummah... nu haf wastest babbeh..."

showtime.nes

>Press the button X2
>Doll does its thing.

>"Babbeh name am Wastest!"

>She draws in her breath like someone watching a fireworks display.
>"Babbeh am wastest babbeh?"

>*press press*

>"Babbeh name am Wastest!"

>"OooOOOooOOooh..." She starts to reach for him, then stops.
>"Buh... buh wah happen uffew Wastest babbeh? Wuv uffew Wastest babbeh tuu!"

>"Last needs to stay here tonight, Bruna. The nice doctor-lady and her friends want to make sure all her tummy-owwies are gone. She can come home with us tomorrow."

>"Mummah... mummah miss puwpuw Wastest Babbeh..."

>"I know, Bruna. I'll miss her too. But we'll see her in the morning, and then she'll be all better."

>"Otay..." she says, a little sadly.
>She really does care for the filly, over and above her mystical worth as the Last Baby.

>*press'n'hold*

>"Mummah!" says the baby. "Babbeh wub."

>She coos, and gathers it to her chest.
>"It otay nao, babbehs," she tells the three unhappy fillies.
>"Mummah haf wastest babbeh, an nu mowe am nu mowe mummah!"

>The fillies attempt to parse this.
>They fail.
>The huuhuus start.

>"Babbehs come an haf miwkies nao!" she clarifies.

>There's a slight scrum as three hungry foals compete for two pony udders
>But by the time you have them loaded back into the car, everyone's settling down.

>"Babbeh wub," you hear from the back where the carrier is strapped.

>"Mummah wuv yu tuu, Wastest Babbeh!"

>"Mummah! Huggies!"

>"Mummah hewe, Wastest Babbeh! Gif wotsa huggies."

>"Babbeh wub."

>"Mummah wuv yu tuu, Wastest Babbeh."

>This could get repetitive.
>But it's still better than the tears and panic you usually have to deal with when Last is out of her sight.

>The next day, you're able to leave everyone in the saferoom while you go to pick up Last.

Last is a little wobbly and still somewhat uncomfortable
>Having passed a difficult night — and some difficult poopies
>With the help of a lot of castor oil.
>"What did we learn about the fridgie-letters, Last?" you ask her, as you carry her from the car.

>"Fwidgie-wettups nu am nummies, Daddah."

>"Are you going to try and num the fridgie-letters again?"

>"Nu, Daddah! Gif wowstest tummeh-owwies, an den poopies aww scwatchy on poopie-pwace! Nu wike meanie poopies. Nu gonna num wettups 'gain, wess dey sketties."

>"That's my good girl."

>You bring her in to rejoin her mother and sisters
>There's a comedic interlude as Last is introduced to Wastest.

>"Babbeh name am Wastest!"

>"Oooh! Dat Babbeh name tuu!"

>"Wuv Mummah!"

>"Ooo! Yu am MUS' be bwuddah! Babbeh wuv Mummah tuu?"

>"The coincidences just keep mounting up, don't they, Last?"

>"...Huh?"

>You ruffle her thick black shock of a mane.

>"Have fun with your new brother, Last. I'm going to make some spaghetti for tea."

>You close the saferoom door as your fluffies give four cheers for "SKETTIES!"
>And one for "Wub."

***

>"Wastest" seems to produce a shift in Bruna's attitude overall.
>She's still a very attentive fluffy mummah
>But as long as the toy is close by
>She's able to let Last run and play without watching her like a hawk every second.
>Last is greatly enjoying the freedom to rove.

>"Gud babbeh," says Bruna happily. "Wuv Wastest babbeh."

>She's watching her foals play and "nursing" Wastest.
>She doesn't seem to notice that he's only gumming, not actually drinking.
>You plan on finding new homes for the girls once they're fully grown
>You suspect that Wastest is going to make that a lot easier.

***