My Giant and Me (A Fluffy Pony Hugbox Story) Part 6

My Giant and Me, Part 6

>"Da-Daddy! Dose Otha Baybehs stiww hung'wy!" Silk whispers at your side, staring nervously at the three Foals you liberated from the brawling Ferals as they whimper and try to find comfortable positions to sleep in the makeshift 'nest' you cobbled together out of old clothes, the detachable wire-cage 'top' of a cat-sized carry cage and a hand-towel as a cover to keep the inside dark and 'safe'.
>Poor Silk, her teats are a painful-looking red, chafed and swollen from the desperate feeding of the Feral Foals. "Dose Otha Baybehs suuu hung'wy, Siwk nu haf any miwk now. Nu haf m-miwk fo' S-s-s-siwk's wuv'wy Baybehs." She starts to stammer and sniffle, and you pat her head and soothe her as best you can.
>"It's okay, Silk, it's okay. Daddy knows, Daddy will get you some more milk, and you'll have enough food so you can feed your babies again later today, I promise." You whisper to her as you pour the hot water into the feeding bottle, shaking it to fully disperse the Fluffy Formula through the mix, then adding some cold water to lower the temperature.
>Yes, you brought Fluffy Milk Formula, just in case of the very worst outcome. Thank all the Gods that Silk didn't ....
>Well ... this comes a close second, in your book at least. There's no way Silk can care for 6 Foals, and you go to back to work as soon as the weekend ends, so you've just got today, saturday, and tomorrow, sunday, to try and resolve this issue.
>Two Fluffy Feeder bottles with soft plastic teats are gently shoved into the faces of the Purple and Green Foals, both of them male, who immediately latch on and start drinking like Fluffies possessed, while the Orange Foal, the only female amongst the Feral Foals, starts to snore, having finally found a comfortable spot, hugging her own warm bottle of Formula Milk.
>You think that of the three, only the Orange Fluffy got a decent amount of milk out of Silk, and the Green Foal, being the smallest, was bullied way from Silk's other teat by the Purple Foal during the 'brawl'.
>Not that Silk had a hell of a lot of milk left. Red and White pretty much drained one teat dry, and perhaps there was a half-measure of milk left in the other.
>The Red, Pink and White Foals that belong to Silk are hugging Bruce's ear, fixated now on playing their favourite game, 'Peek-boo'. Your Saint Bernard puts up with this like a trooper as three tiny little voices giggle and whisper 'Peek-Boo!' as they 'hide' from each other behind their hooves.
>Maybe you could go hunt down the Mares and give them back their Foals, but after what you saw this morning ... maybe not. It would be cruel to take the Foals away from their Mothers, hell, it is cruel, but if that's the natural state of a Feral Herd, being raised by your hand surely is the better option, right?
>Besides, it's no like you can leave Silk to look after six freaking foals when you work a 50 hour week, 10 hours a day!
>Silk has a heart as big as Godzilla, and she knows which babies are hers, and which are not ... but she's got about as firm a grasp on the concept of causality as a rock has a chance of rolling up-hill. She'd try to feed everyone, then run out of milk half-way and be left with three happy foals and three sad foals and just tie herself in knots over it.
>Your poor little girl ... she's so jittery right now it's all she can do to not have a panic attack, she's so worried about 'Mah Baybehs', who 'need' her Milk and her love, and these 'Otha Baybehs', whom she can't give enough Milk to, and whom she doesn't feel such a strong bond with.
> It confuses and frightens her that she doesn't feel the same way about these three Foals as she does about her 'original' three, and it's tearing her up inside.
>You're sort of surprised that Silk took to the Albino Runt like she did, and not these three ... maybe the stress of the attack made her more willing to bond, or perhaps it was because Bruce brought her the Foal?
>You have tried to explain to your little Fluffy that she'll have milk again in a few hours as her body processes all the high grade fluffy chow and the cow's milk you give her. That you are going to help her ensure that all the Fluffy Foals have enough Milk and Fluffy Formula to grow big and fat and happy, but she can't seem to grasp it.
>She doesn't have Milk right now, and she can't give all the Babies the same amount of love, so she's a Bad Mumma in her own little world-view, and it is just hammering her self-esteem right into the ground.
>So you pull the hand-towel over the oval wire-cage containing the orphaned Foals, cuddle Silk to your chest and go sit on the couch with her as Bruce gives you the sad-eyes treatment while Silk's Foals tug on his ears and play 'Peek-Boo' with each other.
>"You're a Good Mother, Silk." You whisper to the despondant Fluffy Mumma, stroking her mane with your free hand as the Television shows another spam of infomercial adds. "You're the best Fluffy Mother I've ever known. The Bad Fluffies didn't love their babies, they just wanted to fight each other and be bad to each other. But you gave those Strange Babies your milk, even when you were scared. You made sure they were warm and fed, even when you didn't know those Babies at all."
>Silk sniffs and stares up at you with big, watery eyes, clutching a fold of your shirt between her hooves and gives you a weak smile.
>"Siwk ... nu Bad Mumma, even if haf nu Miwk?" She asks softly as her Foals laugh and play in the shelter of your young Saint Bernard's fur. Possibly the only place safer for them right now is an old World War II Bunker.
>"No, Silk is a Very Good Mother. Silk even looks after Other Babies so they can be Good Fluffies like Her Babies. And don't worry, Daddy can make some more milk if the Foals get hungry before you can feed them, I promise." You tell her again, and finally Silk looks happy. But then she looks ... confused.
>"Buh Siwk nu know ... how Daddy gif Miwk if Daddy is Boy?" She whispers, leaning her head against your chest.
>"Uuuuuuuh, Silk." You half-laugh, half-groan, wondering how you're going to explain powdered Fluffy Formula to her.

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>Be a Baby. A Fluffy Pony Foal.
>Specifically, you think you're 'Green'.
>Your fluff looks so much like the Grass that your Mumma accidentally started to nibble on your fluff a couple of times.
>It hurt so much, made your skin pull and pinch, made you squeal in fear and pain every time, a small, shrill yeep! noise that made Mumma drop you again, which hurt as well!
>You don't understand ... Mumma is supposed to give love and hugs and milk and warmth and safety ... but your Mumma gives you owies, makes your Fluffy all wet and mangled. And she never gives you enough milk ...
>Every time she mistook you for grass, Mumma would pretend to be so upset, babbling how sorry she was. Mumma did not want to be a Meanie, you just looked like tasty 'Gwasses'.
>Orange and Purple learned to say 'Bwudda' and 'Pway' after their first day. You learned 'Meanie' and 'Nu is Nummies'.
>You remember the 'Sketti-Nummies'... that wonderful pile of long yellow stuff in a pile of red stuff, after Mumma and the Other Fluffies went running so fast you almost fell off.
>The smell was so nice, as nice as Mumma's Milk-Smell, you'd hoped that Mumma would let you have a lick of this wondrous thing, but then ....
>The shouting, and the fighting, over the Nummies, that is clearest in your mind.
>Mumma was shouting, Other Mumma was shouting, Other Fluffies were shouting, and then your Mumma spun around so fast you were flung away onto the grass, rolling and squeaking as the cold, hard grasses pricked and poked you through your fluff as you rolled across the grass.
>And then everything smelled terrible. Especially your Mumma.
>The Smell was so bad, and you were so scared, but Orange and Purple were hugging each other, and wouldn't hug you. So when your Mumma came over to be Mean to you, you were all alone.
>Your Mumma smelled so bad, like bad-Baby-stay-away-go-away-from-me smell. It made you cry. She didn't love you at all, you could smell it all over her!
>Even her Yummy Milk Place smelled terrible, so terrible you couldn't make yourself have Milk-Nummies even through your belly was so empty all you wanted to do was curl up and try to squash the pain away.
>You crawled away, heartbroken because your Mumma had decided to be so mean that you couldn't stand it anymore, desperate for a place to be safe and warm and loved and fill your belly with Milk ...
>And then you were here. You remember being picked up in ... something, and then placed on a warm, soft, clean belly.
>It smelled so much like your Mumma, but there were more Babies there!
>They were so big and fat and pretty, but they didn't want to share the the Nummies! They wouldn't let you have any of their Mumma's delicious warm clean Milk, not like Your Mumma, who let Orange and Purple come over and have your Milk when the world got dark and all the Fluffies huddled together to stay warm!
>Nobody wants to share Nummies ... you've learned that fact all too well.
>Your Mumma gave big, big owies to Other Mumma about Nummies, and the Other Fluffies were covered in boo-boo juices. Everybody was angry and scary, because of Nummies.
>Everyone was making loud-scary noises, and stank just like the Smell-Bad-Go-Away-Bad-Baby yikkies that Mumma had decided to cover herself in after being a Meanie and fighting over Nummies.
>You learned that Fluffies are mean when there's too many Fluffies and not enough food. Or if they want the food bad enough...
>You know now, you have to be the first one to get the food, so you don't have Tummy-Owies again. But you're not as strong as Purple, and he stole what little Milk-Nummies that the Sad Red Mumma had left!
>Purple and Orange were Meanies again, even after getting Hugs from the Sad Red Mumma, and you had to fight Purple to get your fair share, but there was barely any milk at all, even though Sad Red Mumma was so nice.
>She cried and cried, so sad she couldn't make you feel warm and full and sleepy.
>You wanted to tell her she was wonderful, but you were so tired, and so scared, and so sad and frustrated that Purple was not letting you have any Nummies that you forgot and instead fought with Purple over who got to drink the last of the milk out of the Sad Red Mumma's Milk-Place.
>But she loves her Babies more than you, you all heard her say it ... "Baybeh guud? Baybeh guud! Nu Meanie. Baybeh guud nu Meanie!" You whisper to yourself, trying to make sense of it all.
>Aren't you good? You try so hard to be good, but there's so much you don't know, that makes you confused and frustrated because you don't know the words to express yourself, or how to act. You only know how to be cold and hungry and afraid and frustrated.
>You only know that Orange and Purple would always come over from their Mumma to your Mumma and steal the Milk that was supposed to be yours! But your Mumma never kicked them away, or mistook them for grass, or tried to save milk for you.
>Said she was happy to help the Other Mumma. Said she loved Babies. But you never were allowed to go over for Milk-Nummies to the Other Mumma. You tried, but the Other Mumma would push you back, saying "Nu haf Miwk, sowwy Baybeh, Mumma haf nu Miwk fow Baybehs nu moar. Yuu haf Yuu Mumma's Miwk, she haf wotsa Miwk."
>But in truth, your Mumma had not much milk at all, and you had to fight Orange and Purple constantly to get enough just to make the tummy-owies fade enough to be bearable.
>Both Your Mumma and the Other Mumma always let Orange drink her fill, while you and Purple always had to fight each other for the other teat, until your Mumma was a Meanie, and pulled you off the teat!
>Orange and Purple are greedy and drink all of the Other Mumma's Milk, and then come and try to take all of yours. And when you tried to hold onto a teat and drink and drink till you were full, Your Mumma would pull you off so the Other Babies could steal her Milk-Nummies away! You never got enough milk-nummies,you were always hungry, always sad, but she always gave milk-nummies to the other Babies!
>Your Mumma did not care how hungry and afraid and sad you were. Because she is a Meanie. Your Mumma is a Meanie Mumma. And that makes you even sadder.
>Everything makes you feel so sad. Where is your Mumma now? Why has she left you here, with the Five-Headed Munsta and the Sad Red Mumma?
>Why is your Mumma being so mean to you again! Making her Milk-Places smell so bad, trying to make you smell bad so the other Fluffies won't love you ...
>The Big Milk-Thing that the five-headed Munsta gave to you is still warm, but there's something wrong with the Milk.
>It doesn't taste quite right, not like the watery Milk your Mummy gave you, or the few drops of thick, tasty-sweet-yummy Milk you managed to get from the Sad Red Mare.
>The Nummies in the Big Milk-Thing tastes a little bitter, and it's not quite as warm as you remember Mummy-Milk should be. You want real Mummy-Milk! Maybe the Sad Red Mare has Milk now ... you might be able to have some. She let you have her Milk, even when she had so little left, while the Other Meanie Mumma wouldn't let you have any! Meanie Mumma!
>You want to be hugged, to be loved, to be warm, to be safe, to have a Mumma that isn't mean to you just because you look like Tasty Grass!
>Push away from the bottle and stagger upright, crying softly, and crawl towards the brighter patch of this Safe Place, frowning as you watch Orange scoot over with a big smile on her face towards your Big Milk-Thing and begins suckling happily.
>Her Big Milk-Thing is almost half-empty ... yet she is still stealing your Bitter Milk Nummies! MEANIE!
>Purple still hasn't taking his mouth away from his Big Milk-Thing, and smiles messily around the teat, a Meanie Smile, just like what is slowly spreading over Orange's face.
>Baybehs haf Miwk Nummies an' Nu-Miwk Nummies! Baybehs haf Mummy who wuv hew Baybehs an' nu be Meanie! Their Smiles seem to say. Gwasses-Baybeh nu haf nuthin! Nyah-Nyah-Nyah!
>"Meanies!" You sob and curse at the other two Babies, broken-hearted at the cruelty of your Family, and struggle out the opening of the Safe Place, squeaking as you force your way under the warm, soft blanket.
>There's a Giant Fluffy! It's ... your little mind can't even concieve something so big! And you can see the Sad Red Mare, clinging to the Giant Fluffy's side and shouting "Wuv Bwuce!"
>The Sad Red Mare is happy now! She might ... she might have Milk again! You might have proper Sweet Mummy Milk, have cuddles with a Mummy that smells nice and is clean and soft and loves you!
>Maybe ... maybe the Giant Fluffy can be your Daddy, and the Sad Red Mare can be your Mummy!
>Maybe they won't mistake you for grass, or cover the Red Mare's Milk-Place with Go-Away-Bad-Baby Yikkies, or make you fight the other Foals for Hugs and Nummies!
>So you shove and push at the blanket covering the wire-cage roof, but it's too heavy to move, so you sit there, in the warm darkness and watch through a narrow sliver of Light as Your New Family plays and hugs, and wait for your chance to join them.

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>Be the Owner of Silk and Bruce, trying to distract Silk and make her happy again by asking her if her Babies know how to play with her beloved 'Wego' Blocks yet.
>Tried so very hard not to laugh as she put both hooves to her mouth and gasped in shock, and then begged you to help her get the Kindergartener's version of Lego out and ready.
>"Baybehs nu haf pway wit' Wego! Wan Baybehs tu pway! Baybehs be happeh den!" She babbled eagerly, for the first time today completely focused on something other than the Ferals or her fear.
>It's been about two hours since the Spaghetti Brawl outside, and Silk's teats are slowly expanding out from her belly fluff as the fatty tissue under the small nubs of flesh expands and fills. She's slowly replenishing her milk, but she hasn't noticed that yet.
>While Silk is rigorously examining the giant Lego Blocks, you quietly walk away to prepare another some satchels of Fluffy Formula. You'll give Silk's Foals a feeding, then the Ferals, and try re-introducing them again.
>But this is it. If the Ferals freak Silk out again ... off to the Fluffy Adoption Center.
>Can't help feel like you're forgetting something though ...

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>"NNNNNEEERRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" You scream in frustration, trying to go left, towards the food bowl. You take a few steps, and then the Bad Mumma starts to pull you back!
>"EEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYGGGGGHHHHHH!!!" The Bad Mumma groans, trying to go right, towards the rags, but you're still hungry, so you grunt, strain and pull her back to where you originally were, the Meanie Electrical tape that binds your front and back legs to the Bad Mumma's front and back legs pulling painfully on your sweaty, dirty fluff.
>You've been at this for several minutes now, each of you trying to get away from the other, trying to do what you want, but she's a Bad Fluffy. Every time you've tried to nibble at the electrical tape to try to get it off, she tries to bite your ears, or screams that you are going to bite her leg and tries to run away.
>You've fallen onto your backs many times, and the cage floor is rough and tears great clumps of your fluff out as you both wriggle and writhe on the wires, struggling against each other to try and roll over onto your side or her side to get back onto your hooves!
>Can't kick her, can't get away from her, and the sides of your faces are all bleeding and mangled from where you've been trying to beat each other into submission, to the point you're both just a mass of bruising, split flesh and scabs there.
>Finally, you both collapse, panting for breath, glaring at each other.
>"Yuu wisten tu Smawty Fwiend! Haf Nummies!" You growl angrily, baring your bloodied and chipped teeth at her. "Haf Nummies, den haf Sweepies!"
>"Nu! Smawty is Stuuuuuupid! Wan haf Sweepies!" The Bad Mumma spits back at you, gasping for breath. "Yuu wuin Sketties! Yuu nu Smawty Fwiend, yuu is Dumb Fwiend!"
>"Smawty Fwiend is SMAWTY!" You shout back, furious but too tired to try and give the Bad Mumma owies again. "Bad Mumma awways wosin' hew Baybehs! Why yuu even botha, yuu is a Bad Mumma, nu Baybehs, nu Speshaw Fwiend, Yuu is Dumb Fwiend!"
>"Nuuu, yuu is!" She screams back, making your ears hurt!
>"Nuuuuuu, yuu is Dumb Fwiend!" You scream in her face! How dare she! YOU ARE A SMARTY FRIEND!
>"NUUUU! YUU!"
>"NUUUUUUUUU! YUU!"
>"NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! YUU!"
>You're so angry, you struggle to your feet, snarling in the back of your throat, as is the Bad Mumma!
>Snap at each other's faces, but there's no way with the way you're tied together you'll be able to pull each other's ears like this!
>So you run, trying to get away from the Bad Mumma, to get around in front of her so you can kick her in her traitorous, treacherous mouth, and make her understand how bad she is!
>You run ... and the Bad Mumma won't run, so you go around in a circle, and she spins in place, both of you screaming abuse at each other, unable to fight, unable to get away, unable to let go of your mutual hatred.
>"HAAAAAAAAAAAATE YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" Your loathing-filled screams echo back at you like a hundred mocking Fluffies, as you both spin and scuttle and jump across the floor of your new cage, locked together in your hatred and frustration, while outside, the sun grows hotter, and the shed begins to grow uncomfortably warm.

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>Be the Owner of Silk and Bruce, giving your Saint Bernard a brush as a reward for being so good, and protecting your yard and your Fluffies.
>Bruce sits there with the most undignified look on his face as you use the brush to pull any knots or loose hairs out of his coat, and already you've got a bucket's worth of the damn stuff.
>It would be a task made considerably easier if Bruce would get the hell off your lap, but he's too big and too goddamn happy for you to push him off. Besides, you do owe Bruce big-time for protecting Silk while you were out ... what's a crushed leg or two between Dog and Master?
>You'll have to vaccum the couch later, but ... kinda don't care. Bruce saved Silk from being kidnapped, Foals and all, by that Feral Herd. So while Silk has her three babies occupied with a rigorous lesson on the names of things, you spoil your Saint Bernard.
>"Awwr rrruuurrrrr rurrrrrrrr!" Bruce groans happily as the brush drags through his chest, taking with it another fistful of loose hairs, dirt and assorted stuff. Seriously. Bruce may be a lovely dog, an excellent companion and a wonderful house-sitter, but god damn does the dog shed something fierce.
>Still ... you have an idea in mind for all that shed hair ...
>"An dis is 'Wego'." Silk says loudly, holding a giant, green kinder-gartener's 'lego' block in between both hooves like it's the damn Autobot Matrix of Leadership, and her three Foals all go "Weee-guuuh"
>"Wego." Silk says again, working with the Foals until they can say it right, showing an amazing amount of patience with them. Honestly, it's comforting to see her still so devoted to them. After that incident with the three Feral Foals ....
>Yeah, that was nothing like you thought would happen. Silk completely adopted the Albino Runt, you thought she might be alright with temporarily taking care of another three, but it just freaked her right out.
>"Yuu can pway wit' dis Wego, buh it can du funneh tings tu." Silk is explaining slowly as the Foals clamour to play with the Lego now, as she pushes a second, blue block out with her back leg, and gently places the green block on top of the blue.
>The Foals can barely contain themselves. TWO Lego blocks!
>And then Silk presses down with a hoof, and the two blocks click together.
>There's a collective, shocked gasp from the Foals.
>"Mu-mumma! Wegos haf huggies!" Red squeals excitedly, hugging White tightly to her side, who is flailing his legs at the blocks excitedly.
>"Yes, Baybeh, Wego can gif Huggies tu otha Wego, and can gif su many Huggies tu otha Wego's dat dey can make tings fo' Fwuffies, if Fwuffies hewp Wego haf dere Huggies." Their mother smiles indulgently and urges her babies over to hug and play with the Lego, the trio babbling excitedly. So god damned cu-
>SLURP.
>Bruce's tongue wipes itself across your face, and you groan, making your Fluffies turn and stare at you, then giggle.
>Your Saint Bernard's tail thumps on the floor, and Bruce gives you a doggy grin. You'd been focusing on the Fluffies and forgotten to keep grooming him.
>"Sorry Bruce." You sigh, wiping the drool off your face.
>"Whuff!" Bruce replies as Silk gets more Lego blocks from her toy-box, and helps the Foals build their very first 'Safe Place'.

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>Be Silk, a Red Earth Fluffy Mare with some very sore teats and a nagging worry at the back of your mind.
>You love your babies, they are the center of your world, their very existence has made your life so much more ... more. All three of them. But ... White is not your baby.
>He is, but he isn't. It's hard to explain, even to yourself. Bruce found him and brought him to you for Loves and Hugs and Milk, and you couldn't bring yourself to make him take the White Baby away.
>White is a Good Baby, and he loves you, and Bruce, and Daddy, and Red Baby, and Pink Baby. He's smaller than the other two Babies, but he's also very gentle, he always has your milk last and never fights with your other Babies.
>But the Three Other Babies ... you never imagined a Baby could be so mean or scared, and they scared you so badly. The Orange Baby was holding your teat so tightly in her mouth that it hurt, and the Purple Baby kicked the Green Baby and wouldn't share the teat!
>And all three smelled like Angry Fluffies, just like the Meanie Pink Pegasus and the Scary White Mare ... and Bruce found White on the grass where the Feral Herd was grazing ... does that mean that White is a Bad Baby? The Three Other Babies were so mean to each other, and to you, and fought bitterly over your last few drops of Milk!
>No ... White is a Good Baby, he's only shown you and your other babies love. But he's not yours ... yet you love him as much as you love Red and Pink. But you don't love the Orange, Purple or Green babies, you don't want them to cry or be sad or be mean, but you don't ... don't love them.
>It's all so confusing. And saddening. Babies should be loved, but you're afraid of those other Babies. You have bad thoughts of them hurting your Babies, of them making your Babies bad like the Ferals were.
>Bad thoughts of Red or Pink becoming as much of a Meanie as their Father was. Bad thoughts of White being all big and scary and kicking you, screaming for you to give him your Babies with his strange red eyes glaring hatefully at you.
>Bite your lip and try to be happy and brave for your Babies, as they giggle and carry the blocks of bright, clean Lego around, building a 'Safe Place' just for them.
>Red and White carry the blocks, while Pink directs them. You have to help them stack the Blocks, and you pick up one Baby at a time so that they can jump up and down on the Blocks to make them have huggies.
>The constant stream of happy babbling from your Babies makes you feel a little bit braver, but you're also nervous. Your Babies aren't old enough, they don't understand how scary Ferals can be.
>The Pink Meanie Pegasus wasn't the first Feral you met, but he was the Meanest.
>You hope that Daddy was right when he said he's made it so that the Bad Ferals can't get back into the yard again. You feel so worried now when you look out the window and see trees and sunshine.
>The Outside is where Bad Things happen to you.

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>So hot. So thirsty.
>You are the Pink Pegasus Smarty Friend, and you're panting, exhausted and worn down from fighting with the Stuuupid Ugly Stuuupid Meanie Bad Mumma.
>You still haven't gotten any of the food the Munsta-Hoomin set down, because the Bad Mumma won't obey you. With your legs Hugging each other like this, there's no way to get away from her, or to give her proper Owies, or .... anything!
>But ... there's the water-bowl, right there! You can smell the delicious, cool water, and if you had any spit left in you, you'd be drooling right now.
>You'd give every Spaghetti in the world for just a mouthful of water ...
>Take a step towards it ... and then another. With the Leg that the Bad Mumma is hugging!
>You moved! You actually moved forwards without having to drag the Bad Mumma with you!
>Your leggies on that side don't move now unless you strain really, really hard, because the Bad Mumma won't stop hugging them, so you have to fight all the time just to make your leggies obey you ....
>Keep moving, faster and faster, scuttling towards the Water Bowl, panting heavily. The Bad Mumma has decided to be a Good Fluffy, and obey you! You won't have to give her so many Owies now!
>So cool, so refreshing ... never thought you would be so happy to have plain, ordinary water!
>"Wa-Wa, need Wa-Wa." You pant, finally getting close enough that you can drop your muzzle into the cool, wonderful water ...
>And that stupid bitch of a Bad Mumma drops her muzzle in as well. But there's not enough room for both of you, so only your chins get wet, your bruised and torn cheeks smushing painfully against each other, your tongues flicking just over the surface of the water.
>Enough to taste the water, to feel how cool and wonderful it is, but not to get enough to quench your thirst ...
>"Stuuupid! Wa-Wa's fo' Mumma!" The Bad Mumma hisses, trying to push you away, leaning heavily on your side and making you stumble, you non-hugging legs folding up and dropping you onto your knees.
>"Nu! Smawty Fwiend thiwsty! Need Wa-Wa!" You growl back, wondering how you're going to push her back when you're so tired and thirsty, and then you have a Smarty Idea.
>When the Bad Mumma wouldn't run last time, you spun around and she was turned on the spot ...
>So while she's pushing this time ....
>It grates on your very being to give way in any form to the Bad Mumma, but you stand up as quickly as you can scuttle to the other side, away from the Water Bowl, and grin as you hear the Bad Mumma squeak in alarm as you both stumble around in a wobbly circle, the Water Bowl flashing out of sight and then ...
>There it is! And she's still staggering, unable to get her balance, so she can't push on you again!
>Drops your whole muzzle into the water and drink.
>So delicious and cool. You'll never complain about the sky being a Meanie and spraying you with Water ever again.
>Gulp, Gulp, Gulp.
>"Nuuu, Mumma's Wa-Wa's! Stuuupid Smawty Fwiend twick Mumma!" You hear the Bad Mumma whine, but she's stupid, you're braced against her now, there's no way that she can ....
>AAAAAAAAAAGH she pulled away! The badly-bruised side of your muzzle cracked painfully against the side of the Water Bowl, making your teeth give you so many Owies! And then she pushes against you, and you stumble, and the Bad Mumma is now the only one able to drink!
>Glare at her, seething with rage as you see her greedily drink the cool water, her bruised and bleeding face tainting the water a pale pink.
>Gulp, Gulp, Gulp.
>Of course, yours did the same, but you don't acknowledge that. You are the Smarty Friend, after all!
>"Nuuu, Bad Mumma! Yuu make Wa-Wa's diwty!" You shout, feeling desperate for more water.
>Your mouth is damp, your throat is no longer so tighty and scratchy, but you want more water! More! More Water!
>So you copy what the Bad Mumma did you to, pull away to your side, making her blow bubbles in the water in surprise as she is pulled off balance, and then push back, so you can get to the Water!
>But the Bad Mumma gets back onto her hooves too fast, and now you're both pushing each other back and forth, snapping at each other, furious.
>The Water is ruined now! It's a pale pink, tainted with Boo-Boo Juices!
>"Mumma's Wa-Wa!" The Bad Mumma shrieks, rearing back and taking you with her, but she falls against you as both of your upper bodies twist and flail in the air, and when you fall down she's closer to the water bowl!
>See her head get close to the water, tongue out, ready to lap up your water!
>She's going to make the water dirty again with her Boo-Boo Juices!
>"Nuuuuu! Smawty Fwiend's Wa-Wa's!" You squeal angrily, jumping with all four legs, jumping to the side as best you can with the Bad Mumma hugging your legs like this, pushing her away, so you can have more Water!
>Put your head down, lap at the water, and then you're shoved to the side again.
>Back and forth, you both spin and push and jump and squeal, getting a lap of water here, a gulp of water there, until finally, your pushing and shoving makes you go forwards as both of you try to jump at each other at the same time.
>Your front leggies that are hugging each other crash into the side of the water bowl, and both of you scream in pain as your hooves crack and tear, and your sweaty, chafed skin splits open, leaking boo-boo juices over each other, and then the water bowl is flipping over you, dousing you both with the cool water, spilling it over the nasty, rough, dirty ground.
>Wasted. Ruined. Just like the Spaghetti!
>"Nuuuu, Smawty Fwiend wuin Mumma's Wa-Wa's!" The Bad Mumma shrieks, ducking her head to the ground to lap at the now dusty-and-boo-boo-juices stained water, her tongue rasping on the concrete floor.
>"Nu, Bad Mumma did! Smawty Fwiend nu do dis!" You protest, licking up the water you can and crying as it fills your mouth with yikky dust and the sickening taste of boo-boo juices.
>Your thirst has been slaked, for now, but there's no water left ... and the shed is just getting hotter and hotter under the sun as morning gives way to mid-day.

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