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Tom and his wife, Becky, had bought their daughter a Forever Foal for Christmas. The Fluffmart was actually open late on Christmas Eve for those who had placed orders for the quite expensive creatures, and so they went over to pick it up. The one they had ordered was yellow and green, a male. The size of the average stallion but they were referred to him as a colt in all materials.
âWhatever you do, donât try and be cute by putting him in a box. Iâm not kidding. He might have a heart attack.â The tired looking cashier told them as he verified that they were the owners. After that was taken care of, he lifted the Forever Foal out of his open-air pen and set him down in front of the couple.
âAlright. Well, come on.â Tom told the fluffy. He was wearing a puffy blue diaper which had the words âSPECIAL LITTLE GUYâ written on the back. He could find himself growing slightly annoyed at the sight. Eugh.
âAm babbeh. Omwy babbeh. Nu walkies. Gud upsies pweasies? Daddeh?â The fluffy held out itâs limbs to Tom who was the only one able. His wife was holding the âcomplimentaryâ box of stuff which came with every order of one of these things.
âFine.â Picking the fluffy up, he cradled it against one arm and he got a whiff of the sour milk scent of the soft kibble these things gobbled up along with the distinctive smell of shit. Well, whatever. It was for his daughter. Carrying it out to the car, heâd set it in the back seat and try to go to the driverâs seatâŚ
âNUUUUU! Babbeh am awone! Nu! Pwease! Scawdies!â So to stop it from screeching itâs lungs out, Becky had to get in the backseat with it. Alright, new transition. Maybe this is just how things started out.
They waited just until the clock struck 12 and it was officially Christmas to set the fluffy down on their daughterâs bed. Her name was Emily, she was 18, and had been talking about nothing but having a Forever Foal for months ever since they had started trending on Dikdok or whatever that shitty phone thing was. Tom didnât know. He didnât care. The one thing he knew was that itâd been all sheâd asked for and now here it was. Theyâd tied a little ribbon to the top of itâs head and tried to clean it the best it could before letting it loose on the bed. It immediately scampered up and gently nudged Emily with itâs snout. Nose. Face. Whatever you wanted to call it. Emilyâs eyes fluttered open, pink bedding flew, she grabbed the fluffy and began to scream.
âOMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD YOU GOT ME A WIDDLE FWUFFY BAABBBEEEHHH!â Tom had been prepared for this, already having plugged a finger into his ears. Said âwiddle fwuffy babbehâ began to immediately sob at the scream, flailing his arms around.
âNu wike! Mumma pwease no woudy-noisies!â He was cradling to Emilyâs chest, being soothed immediately at being held.
âIâm going to name youâŚSprite!â She pressed little kisses to the top of his head, causing the âcoltâ to giggle.
âBabbeh wub nyu namesie! Spwite! Su su pwetty!â He knocked his front hooves together in a crude imitation of clapping, and Tom left her room as his wife helped her go through the box of stuff which would be for his care. His part was done: Itâd cost several thousand dollars.
âLooook Sprite. Mommy has your foooood! Yummy-nummies!â It was morning time and Emily had mixed together the fluffyâs kibbles. High protein stuff which had to be soaked and made into a slurry with a canned milk mixture. It smelled truly horrible but the little guy gasped and hugged her leg with a coo. Diving itâs face down into the horrible sludge, he ate so noisily and smacked his lips, causing bits of food to fly everywhere. This wasâŚnot really that cute. Emily stopped filming him with her phone. He finally looked up, grey stuff all over his face.
âBabbeh ânee cweanies!â He said like a good little boy, and she would nod and take out one of the perfumed wipes that came with the supplies which had come with him. Giggling and waggling his tail, heâd blow bubbles stupidly which did make for something to record.
âWow Sprite! Thatâs sooooo cute! A-Dow-ABLE!â She had her phone focused on him until he shifted in place and let out the most rancid fart imaginable. The girl gagged, had to step away. There was about to be a valuable lesson here: He might act like a foal but he sure shit like a stallion.
âOoohhhh GROSS!â Spriteâs new mummah exclaimed, apparently having forgotten that these things shit, and by purpose, not even in a littertray. âMOOOOOMMM! Help me change Sprite!â She called out from her bedroom.
âHeâs yours! And donât let your father hear you saying you canât take care of him! You said you could, now itâs your responsibility!â Becky called out from the kitchen where she was working on breakfast.
Wrinkling her nose, Emily laid Sprite out on a towel. She had changed a diaper or two in her life but this smelled worse than any of those ever had. It was practically seeping right through the diaper, too. Gagging a little, she got the diaper off of him and began the process of cleaning all the shit off of his ass. Legs. Tail. Everything. All the while he giggled and babbled to himself, kicking his hooves around and making sputtering noises with his tongue.
âOK Sprite. Youâre all clean. Letâs go watch TV.â Picking him up (he was still adamant about not even walking even a little bit), she brought him into the living room and plopped him down on the couch. Turning on the TV, she would learn another lesson: Forever Foals werenât supposed to watch regular television.
As soon as a commercial featuring a cartoon monster advertising a used car lot came on, Sprite would immediately begin screaming.
âMUNSTAH! DEWE AM MUSTAH! HEWP MUMMAH! MUMMAH NUUUUU!â He flopped over onto her lap and kicked his back hooves against the cushions, continuing to empty his lungs until finally heâd calmed down.
âFine! OK. That was a littleâŚscary.â It wasnât. Not even at all. Even the most sensitive of regular fluffies would see worse on the normal airings of FluffTV. He sure wasnât acting as fun as the other Forever Foals she had seen on the Internet. Those ones were just cute. He was being kind of cute.
This continued all day. Whatever she tried doing with him, there would be a problem. Rolling a ball? Sheâd rolled it too fast and itâd nudged onto his hoof. Trying to take a shower? He had to be right there outside of it, babbling the entire time about wub, huggies, and how much he missed her. With every meal it seemed like he shit more than the last time, and this is how it continued on the entire winter break.
As she was getting ready to go to school as break had ended, Sprite was already throwing a fit.
âMummah nu wub Spwite? Spwite nu am gud babbeh? Mummah? MUMMMAAHHHH!â He slapped his hooves down and began screaming as he always did, but Emily had enough at this point.
âYouâre so, like, annoying! SHUT UP!â Taking an old phone charger she would cinch it around his snout and jaw, tying it up and binding his mouth closed. âIâm going to school you annoying brat! God, I hate you!â The girl sent a foot into his ribs, sent him skittering back, did it again until he had been forced away into her closet. Slamming the door closed, she left him to sit there for hours in the darkness. He couldnât scream, and he was too paralyzed with fear to beat his hooves against the door. All he could do was lay there, eyes closed, hoping with the simplistic mind his kind had that no mustahs would come to get him.
Hours later, many forevers to the fluffy, the closet door finally came open. âHereâs your stupid food.â She told him, uncurling the impromptu charger muzzle from his face.
âNeeâ cweaniesâŚwub mummahâŚSpwite su sowwiesâŚâ He pleaded with her, but he was hungry too. Maybe getting cleanies would have to wait a moment. His diaper sagged with poopies, it was one of the worst feelings ever. Plopping his face down into the bowl of food sheâd brought him, Emily would begin heating up her hair straightening iron and setting out a bunch of nail polish/varnish.
After he was done eating, he was right over to her side and began to pester her.
âMummahâŚmummah! Babbeh Spwite neeâ cweanies! Nu am feew pwetty!â Heâd gotten up on his hind legs and attempted to do a little dance for her, though this shift in gravity caused the back of his diaper to rupture and send the pile of crap straight to the floor.
âWHAT THE FUUUUUCCKKKK!â Emily screamed, the noise causing Sprite to get scared and ram into the tray containing her nail polish and varnish. It all crashed to the floor. Her parents were going to kill her, and yes it was all her fault, but not really because she was a teenage girl and in her mind nothing could be her fault.
âOK, stupid dipshit!â Emily got up from her bed, the fluffy shrinking back with the tatters of itâs diaper hanging to the floor.
âMummah, nu! Yew say nu-nu wowd! Su badsies! Nuuuu!â Emily grabbed him up by the scruff of his mane. The fluffy kicked itâs hind legs around. âBAD UPSIES! BABBEH AM NU FUH BAD UPSIES!â
She brought him to the shower, turning it on cold. Sprayed off the fluffy with the coldest wawa he had ever felt, the shock of it enough to actually get him to shut up for two seconds. Once he was cleaned off, sheâd drag him back to the room.
âSu cowd! Am su cowd! Mummah pwease!â His teeth were chattering.
âOh, youâre cold? Youâre such a big baby. Here, let me warm you up!â Plopping him down on the bed, making it seem as if he were about to get a fresh new diaper.
She took the hair-straightener that had been warming up since sheâd gotten home and clamped it down against the weirdly small, deformed looking genitalia that the Forever Foals were forced into having. The fluffy rolled itâs eyes back, screeched so hard that it seemed like his tongue was about to tear itself out. It was lucky her parents both worked late.
âMUMMAH! PEEPEE PWACE HUWTIES! HUUUUU! NUUUUU! MUMMAH!â It cried and wept as she kept the hot iron pressed down, burning itâs genitalia until she smelled the flesh cooking.
âBabbeh ânee mummah! Babbeh wub mummah! CHEARP! SCREEEEE!â It cried and squealed, Emily having to actually peel away her straightening from itâs body. Well, thatâd have to go into the trash once it had cooled down.
Emily put a nice new diaper on him. This asshole was going for a ride. No way was she going to let her parents know sheâd just burned itâs cock and balls off. That was psycho bitch shit and she was a nice girl.
After getting him loaded into her car, she had to listen to him sit in the passengers seat. Cheeping and peeping, crying and trying to get her to listen to him. The music was cranked up.
âHuuhuuâŚcheeeepâŚmummahâŚpeepee pwace burny-huwties.â Sheâd slowed the car down to a slow roll once they were in a deserted place.
âAwh! Let me give you huggies to make it better, bud!â She took one hand off the wheel and let the window down, a woosh of chill January air blowing in. Sprite gave a waggle of his tail, excitedly rushing over the seat. Mummah loved him! Mummah was always right! Like pulling the sheet off a fully set table, she grabbed him by the neck and sent him sailing out the open window with one neat motion.
The car was going slowly but Sprite still hit the asphalt hard. His legs broke, he rolled, caused a skid of blood to slick out over the road until he finally settled in a bunch of gravel and trash at the side of the road.
âMUMMMAAAHHHH! HUWTIES! SCREEEEE!â He called out. Variances on this were called out over and over.
âMummahâŚpeepâŚ.yew foâgit Spwite! Spwite am babbeh! âNee mummahâŚsu huwtiesâŚweggies huwtiesâŚpeepee pwace huwtiesâŚâ He sobbed on the gravel he was stuck on top of.
Nobody cared to stop and help him. This was a common enough sight at this time of the year. The Forever Foal, still dressed in his âSPECIAL LITTLE GUYâ diaper and a frilly blue bib still covered in the gray specks of his last supper would continue to cry for his mummah to come back.
Donât worry though: The cold killed him before starvation or being ripped apart by wild animals.
