My latest attempt at actually writing a story instead of just dropping the pitch in general chat.
Enjoy.
A groaning orange mare let out guttural screams from her newspapers scattered in the corner of the laundry room where her collar was hooked to the wall. The creatively named Orange was pillowed after stomping her last litter for being such ugly shades as pink, pastel blue, sunshine yellow, cherry red, and lime green.
After all, none of the dummies were a pretty orange like her or a pretty brown like her âspechow fwenâ, the wandering stray that creampied her before leaving to buy a pack of cigarettes.
Her blue mane and tail were cut off when she argued that ugly babies didnât deserve love and her tongue was cut out when she kept arguing with her owner.
Her owner threw her out in the snow to let her freeze to death but a feral herd found her and ran a train on her which was enough to keep her warm long enough for the owner to find her in the morning.
âBiggest Poopiesâ was what she was trying to say but of course she just sounded like a mentally disabled person masturbating. She moaned and pushed until eventually a single pudgy orange foal squeezed out. The stress of abuse had caused the rest of the litter to miscarry much earlier in the pregnancy.
It sputtered and peeped and rolled and flopped until miraculously it made it to her teats where he slowly pulled himself up and latched himself on for his first meal.
Had it not been for the newspapers on the floor he would have likely slipped and stalled out on the tile from the placental fluids soaking him through and drowned in the poop the mare eventually expelled.
âAww! Mummah hab pwetties bebbeh!â she wanted to say but her incoherent wails sounded like a dying walrus instead.
The noises scared the foal but not as much as the ambrosian smell of milkies enticed him. Both the foal and the mare fell asleep happy for respective reasons.
Eventually there was a slam that jolted mare and foal awake and the evil daddeh that hated mummah for no reason whatsoever walked in.
âLooks like the dumb cunt finally shit her foal out.â He shouted. Not really, but it echoed in the small room, and it make him sound louder to a terrified fluffy.
âPwease nu huwt bebbeh!â She tried to say but instead sounded like an above average chromosome haver masturbating in public. She curled her body like a bean around the foal to shield it as much as she could.
âOh, do you love that foal?â The evil man said.
She nodded meekly while continuing to expel incoherent moans.
âToo bad that ship sailed.â He replied and plucked the peeping blob up. âIf you want milk, you need to work for it.â
He dropped the foal with a soggy plop on a countertop for folding laundry and plugged in a soldering iron he had waiting for this moment. He passed the time by flicking the foal in the nose whenever it peeped and jabbing the mare with the toe of his boot whenever she moaned.
Eventually the iron was hot enough and he set about cauterizing one of its back legs off. The foal didnât recognized the sensation at first but within three seconds began to screech as loud as it was able. It was slow but the meat slowly seared and boiled away.
After about fifteen seconds he was done and admired his handiwork. A three-legged flailing and screeching orange nugget. Itâs tiny voice already rough and ragged from crying.
He unplugged the iron and plopped the foal down on the cold tile floor about a foot away from the mare.
Orange stared at foal from where she lay and sobbed. She could not reach for him. She could not give him the huggies and love he deserved.
The foal cried and writhed about still covered in afterbirth. It wanted itâs mummah, why wasnât she hugging him. Why wasnât she making the hurties go away? He knew she gave him milkies but even then she hadnât given him huggies or lickie cleanies.
He didnât know much about life, but he knew he was supposed to get huggies and love. Instead, all he knew was pain and cold. Sad wawas pooled in his shut eyes as he cried himself to sleep.
Eventually, after many forevers the crippled chirpy woke with lots of coldies and tummy hurties. Though the afterbirth had dried and made his fluff crusty. He really craved milkies. He peeped for his mummah. He could smell her.
She could see he had woken and began to moan towards him again like a head injury recipient flirting with the waitress at hooters. âBebbeh come hewe! Mummah hewe!â She wanted to say.
The foal heard the scary moaning and tried to cover his head with its hooves as his peeps went from ones of hunger to fear. He knew mummah was âspose tu pwotectâ him but she never came.
The burning pain in his stomach took precedent and he started blindly wiggling towards mummahâs smell.
It was much harder with his missing leg. He had managed to kick off against the ground with his much stronger back legs the first time like an inchworm but now he only had one leg to pull off the miraculous feat.
After an agonizing many forevers, about a half hour in evil daddy measurements, the foal made it to mummahâs teat and began to drag himself up with his front hooves to drink.
With a full belly finally, he detached with a satisfied peep and flopped over to nap up against his mummahâs fluff. Mummah tried to bend herself enough to reach him with her mouth and pulled him towards her head to give him proper lickie cleanies.
A problem as she no longer had a tongue, instead she pulled clumps of the foal into her mouth to soak him in her saliva before sucking away the yuckies in his fluff.
The next bright time, the door slammed open and daddeh came in. âGood morning missy. Looks like your little turd got a bath and a full meal. Shame your last litter didnât.â
He grabbed the foal up, shaking it from its pleasant dream, and dropped it on the counter again. The smell of burning meat from the soldering iron awoke bad memories in its mind and it began to start peeping again.
While the iron heated, he changed the newspaper and refilled the mareâs water bottle and dumped a scoop of kibble on the floor next to her head.
Returning to the foal, he found it lying in a puddle of watery scaredy poopies. âLooks like this bad baby made bad poopies!â The evil daddy said as he began his work once again.
The foal recognized the pain and began peeping in terror. Where was mummah? Why wasnât she protecting him? He expelled even more poop as the smell of seared meat and burnt hair filled the room.
After another agonizing fifteen seconds the foal was deposited on the tile again, this time a whole two feet from mummah. Evil daddeh left and the chirpie cry-babbeh cried itself to sleep yet again.
Hunger woke him some time later and he began to peep to mummah. All she could do was make her best impression of a stoke victim to get his attention.
He began to kick his way over to her. Or at least he tried to. Without his back legs he had to way to push himself to her. He felt a genuine hopelessness beyond the emotional development of a two-day old fluffy.
He wiggled his front legs and peeped for many forevers, eventually as before the hunger became unbearable and he began to drag himself over with his tiny weak front legs. After many more forevers, or a whole hour in evil daddeh time, with many breaks on the way to rest his little leggies that burned from overexertion, he reached his mummahâs milkie places.
His legs hurt too much to pull himself up and so instead he cried his pathetic little peeps. Hunger compelled him once more and he forced himself up. His weight rested on his raw stumps and hurt so bad that, when combined with his stomach pain, he threw up after a few gulps.
He tried drinking again and was able to force down enough milkies to make the hunger go away. He detached with a satisfied burp and nuzzled into mummahâs tummeh fluff. She pulled him close with her teeth and mouthed the dried poopies from his fluff.
He woke in the middle of the night and got another full belly of milkies before falling back asleep tucked against mummah. In the back of his mind, he faintly recognized the absence of a comforting mummah song and wondered why his mummah didnât love him properly.
The next bright time came, and the door slammed open once more. Newspaper, water, kibble, scaredy poopies, searing hot pain, and a cold floor. For good measure, Orange received a kick to her stomach for cleaning the foal again.
Now his distance was a full three feet. He peeped and cried as hard as he could for huggies and love that wouldnât come. He fell asleep and was awoken by hunger yet again.
With one leggie now, the trip to mummahâs milkie places was almost impossible, a whole two hours in evil daddy time. The actual trip took three for the pathetic crybaby foal because he actually passed out from exhaustion.
Orange had in fact thought her foal died and began crying to mourn him, only to experience the biggest heart happies when he began moving again. He discordant squeals of excitement terrified the foal at first.
He made it to her teat and managed to slowly pull himself up only to fall over and have to start over. His stumps ached from the pressure and from falling over on his front stump. He wailed hysterically in pain and despair. Why wasnât mummah helping?
Eventually he got his mouth on to the teat and bit down hard to help steady himself as he drank. Orange yelped in pain but tried her hardest not to cry since her babbeh was clearly hungry.
He struggled for his second meal in the middle of the night after receiving his cleaning suck from mummah.
Bright times came again, and the foal was awoken by the slamming door and began peeping and pissing himself in fear and anticipation.
Newspaper. Water. Kibble. Scaredy poops. Burning pain. A cold floor. He had peeped so loudly in pain over the past several days that his throat burned painfully whenever he made noise.
He was set a full four feet away from mummah. Too far to even smell her. She wailed at her babbeh to the point her voice cracked and hurt too.
âLook, you two match now!â Evil daddeh said before leaving once again.
The foal cried miserably; he couldnât even drag himself to mummah now. He cried and cried peeping profusely despite the burning in his throat until finally he passed out from exhaustion.
Hunger. He awoke with a burning hunger. He peeped for mummah and she wailed back. It wasnât fair! Why did he get so many hurties? He started to shake in anger throwing a tantrum as he cried.
He flopped forward and noticed his mummahâs wailing change pitch. He felt a tinge of happiness in her voice and flopped again. She squealed. He kept flopping to her incoherent encouragement until he passed out again.
Still blind, he had only made his way a whole eight inches towards mummah over two hours. He repeated the process again until he passed out. Then again. Then again. It took all day to get to mummah.
He was weak and the strain make him throw up sickie wawas from his empty stomach that tasted awful and burned his already sore throat.
After flopping all day to get to mummah he finally felt his nose hit her fluff. Now just to get up to her teat. He went to reach to pull himself up before realizing his leggies were all gone.
He peeped and cried in agony. It was impossible.
Orange watched her baby and kept trying to encourage him to drink, too dumb to realize he couldnât climb. Eventually after another tantrum of peeping and flopping he threw up yet again and then passed out.
Orange pulled him close and sucked the poopies and sickie wawas from his fluff. She tried to curl around him to comfort her perfect bestest babbeh ever.
The foal woke again after a long miserable nightmare of pain and hunger. Of course, reality wasnât much better with just as much pain and hunger.
He sniffed towards the smell of milkies, forgetting his predicament momentarily. As he flopped over to his mummahâs milkie places he noticed that a miracle had happened. When orange had curled up around him, she rolled so that her teat was right next to the ground.
The foal peeped with happiness as he latched onto mummahâs milkie place and started chugging. Mummah woke up and started to roll away from the foal in surprise. She let out a wail like someone took a happy meal toy away from someone with microencephalopathy.
The foal held on with his teeth for a few seconds before flopping backwards. He didnât have time to drink and began to throw another flopping tantrum.
It wasnât fair! It wasnât fair at all! Why did the meanie take his leggies? He needed those to get to mummahâs milkies. Why didnât mummah help him? Why didnât she love him?
The door slammed open as evil daddeh walked in.
âPeep Peep Wa-â
Orangeâs earâs perked up. She focused on her foal instead of the scary evil daddeh. Her babbeh was trying to speak his first words after all.
âWan Peep Da-â
Wan daddeh? Why did her babbeh want evil daddeh?
âPeep Wan Peep Dieâ