fivesome

One-on-one with babies?! @Swift :D

Slowly but surely, Bazi's mind wrapped the trauma of birth in gauze and pushed it into the past. Hormones flooded the new mother like intravenous crack, and despite her stubborness, she could not help but look upon her suckling brood with love and wonder.

Four of them. Four Frostfur heirs, with their tiny, perfect little toes and scrunched-up faces. Bazi was fiercely proud of herself for growing such large, healthy pups - almost as proud as she was pissed. At her body. For betraying her.

After a long and well-deserved nap, she could finally take the time to really look at them. Pasha and Whittier were real heffers next to their daintier sister, who was closer in size to Swift. Swift. Presently, he was attacking a teat with gusto, kneading her belly with his tiny paws. He was that very particular shade of brown that meant he would one day be white, with tightly closed eyes and a look of fierce determination. Bazi nudged the top of his fuzzy head with her nose to see what he would do.

Yus! <3

Swift had finally managed to make his way to a teat and he was determined not to leave it. Once more he had found comfort, warm, nourishing comfort, and now he did not want to let go. He suckled busily, pausing only to rrrrrr... if his siblings jostled him. This whirring growl was fast becoming a trademark of his.

The little Frostfur with the black spine was content for now as his tiny paws pushed against his mother and he steadily drew her milk. All was well, until a nudge upon his head caused him to detach from the nipple with an irritable squeak. A cold, wet thing had interrupted him, and he was not happy about that, so of course he rrrrrr....'ed away as his scrunched up face poked around, his lips seeking its former purchase, and he did not stop rumbling until he was once more suckling.

Was he growling? Swift turned to his mother with a dismayed look on his face - presumably, anyway; the pups had about as much control of their faces as Bazi did her post-birth bladder. Despite considering herself a reasonable woman, Bazi was a little offended. After all, she was the one manufacturing the milk he was guzzling - and it was her body that Swift and his little buddies were continuing to destroy.

Swift reattached and continued to suck. Bazi allowed him to be lured into a false sense of security before moving two vindictive inches away.

Swift's level of awareness was essentially limited to what he could feel - the warmth of his mother and her rhythmic breathing, the pressure of his siblings beside him, the taste and fulfillment of milk. And so he was rather unaware that his impatient rrrrrrr...'ing had offended his mother, who had gone through so much to see him into the world and would continue to work hard to see that he stayed in it, who was hovering a couple inches from him. He nursed away, little paws absently kneading.

Swift was unperturbed. Two of the others, however, began to wail when their mouths were disconnected from their food source. Bazi flattened her ears and nudged them back into position to shut them up, then snatched up little Swift for some quality time alone.

"Feisty, aren't you," she told the blind baby between her paws, smoothing down his fur with her tongue.

I fail. I read that post about her moving two inches away as in her hoving her muzzle two inches above him or something, waiting to strike, haha. LET ME CORRECT THAT IN THIS POST. We'll pretend it was my plan all along.

Swift was settled in and content once more, his deaf ears affording him no awareness of his brother and sister's protest, which he should have been sharing in. But at least for now, Swift was not so swift, and it took him a few moments of absently suckling and kneading air to realize that the warm liquid he was expecting was not coming.

Swift stopped. His little head bobbed, poking around shakily, searching. His stubby forelegs reached out, and he let out a series of soft squeaks, perhaps seeing if echolocation was among his capabilities (it was not). Meanwhile his mother had re-situated his siblings, lulling them back into quiet. He was about to wail fearfully, when he was lifted from the den floor. He started to rrrrrr... and squeak indignantly between Bazi's paws, but the warm strokes of her tongue soothed him, and his little noises faded into nothing but the soft air of his breathing.

Here was utter contentment, in his mother's embrace.

That's OK, I just bypassed it! :D

Swift's brain was equipped to handle exactly one event at a time (barely), and when three things happened in quick succession, he became a little flustered. Bazi narrowly avoided a fresh round of hullabaloo from her little noise-makers. Luckily, Swift settled, his mistrustful purr of a growl petering out into nothing. His mother, thrilled by this victory, grinned somewhat maniacally down at her snoozing son. With gentle licks, she cleaned every inch of his soft brown fur - head, chest, back, belly, and butt.

He snoozed, his mother's tongue caressing and cleaning him, lulling him into a deeper sleep in which he squeaked as though dreaming, not unlike a guinea pig chirping for lettuce. But Swift did not dream, for Swift and his mind were an infant, and the programming in his brain was limited to basic instinctive responses, the kind that would see he survived to grow, when an expanding mind would give way to dreams at a later time.

Even though he was asleep, the little Frostfur had a gift to give his mother. In the quiet of the den, a little pfffff sounded, his tail twitching to suggest exactly where this air had come from. Swift rolled as the rank puppy fart rose around him and drifted right under his mother's nose. His nose crinkled next, for even he smelled the devil's breath that he had released into the den. But he was sound asleep and did not wake.

Behind her elbow, her other three milk-guzzling children settled down to snooze. Between her paws, Swift did likewise, head lolling comically when she shifted him around to reach every hidden inch of his minuscule body. She was perilously close to the boy's rear when a little toot escaped him - just a puff, barely audible..

..but so noxious, so vile, that Bazi nearly hit her head on the den's ceiling in her attempts to escape.

Whilst she held back vomit, it spread, settling over the den like a soup of mouldy, half-decayed viscera. Bazi gazed down at her son from as far away as her neck would stretch. Remarkable. Not even Scimitar's smelled that bad. Gently, slowly, and without breathing, Bazi transferred her baby boy back to the others.

bahaha

He squeaked as his mother's grasp stirred him from his deepest sleep, though he was not entirely awake. But in this state of half-wakefulness, his nose was more aware of the stench in the den, and he squeaked several more times in rapid succession, confusion clouding his little mind. But soon he was nestled against the warm bodies of his siblings and his mother's belly, the pressure familiar and comforting. His head bobbed and he nosed around for a few moments, but sleep could not be kept at bay, and he slumped against one of his brothers and was deep in rest again.

Bazi spent the next five or ten minutes breathing through her mouth. Eventually, Swift's awful rectal sigh vacated the den, but not without burning itself into his poor mother's memory. She flashed her son a betrayed look, but he was already asleep, snoozing adorably next to his brothers and sisters. How could something so sweet concoct something so terrible within himself? Bazi heaved a tired sigh and dropped her head onto her paws for a well-deserved nap.