Day 1
The sun was rising above the sleep deprived herd; it had been nearly two hours since their capturer so rudely woke them from their slumber. The air was cold, forcing many of the fluffies to bundle up into fluff piles to keep warm. Even in times like this, the power dynamic of the herd remained intact, at least most evidently in the mare and foal pen. In the middle of the fluff pile, the smarty’s special friend and offspring were afforded the warmest spot. Although all foals and mares were essential to their herd’s propagation, the purple fluffy and her brood were the highest priority and their survival prioritized over all else. Lesser mares were brought close to maintain the heat around their first family, with their own offspring not being afforded the same protections. Unfortunately for the lesser mares, three foals had died from hypothermia but that was unfortunately life for the lower castes.
Chris came back outside with a giant bag of kibble in his arms, it was time to give his prisoners some rations in order to keep them alive for their punishment. He had calculated how much kibble would be just enough for all the fluffies to sustain themselves, but still feel hungry and miserable. Not even their feeding sessions would be pleasant, Chris was sure to see that through. As he fed each section their minimum rations, he heard fighting in the mare and foal pen.
“huhuhuhuhu pwease fwuffy need make Miwkies fo’ Babbeh tu!”.
“Nu care dis am fwuffy’s nummies, to make Bestest Miwkies fo babbehs”.
A thinner green and red mare was arguing with the fat purple bitch, it seems she had bogarted all the food for herself. Chris was amazed at what a fast eater she was, he had only just placed the food down a moment ago. He grumbled to himself and put more of the rationed food into the mare and foal pen. Although he hated this herd with every fiber of his being, he simply could not let these oxygen thieves die so easily. As soon as he put the food down, the fat bitch came running over trampling another mare’s foal and pushing everyone out of the way. Chris couldn’t believe it; this mare was really going to hoard all the food?
Chris yelled at the Fat mare, “Hey Fat-Bitch, knock it off”!
The portly mare only ate faster and more aggressively, a big “fuck you” to her captive as she tried to put more food into her gullet. Chris reached in and grabbed her by the scruff, removing her violently upwards as she screeched that awful, ear splitting sound fluffies make when they feel threatened. He pulled her up to eye level and glared at her, she was quite heavy for a fluffy and was quite an effort to keep eye level. Still Chris knew he needed to make sure she knew that he would always be stronger than her. Chris tried to speak calmly to her to prevent more shit from getting on his boots. He calmly said to her, “I know your feeble fluffy brain will struggle to understand this, but you can’t eat all the food”. The fat mare puffed her cheeks and said, “Stoopi Hoomin, fwuffy am bestest speshulfwiend, fwuffy get Bestest nummes fo babbehs”. Chris glared at her and responded, “You’re the size of a small planet, all you’re doing is starving the other mares and foals by stealing their rations”! The fat mare doubled down, she yelled as loud as a fluffy could, “Fwuffy Nu Cawe! Fwuffies babbehs awe Bestest babbehs, fwuffy wiww hab aww nummies”!
Chris shook his head in disbelief, never could he fathom that these multicolored genetic rejects could be so heartless and cruel to their own herd. He held the fat mare by her scruff and walked back into his home. Chris brought her inside the kitchen and dropped her into the deep side of his sink. It confused the mare that Chris had brough her into the kitchen, the place where humans kept all their food. Perhaps she had shown him who was in charge and he would now reward her with the best Sketties in all the land. Unfortunately for the fat bitch, this would not be the case with that kibble being the last good meal she will ever have.
Chris turned on the stove top, he was trying to get the coil heated to the max temperature to begin her punishment. His stove was old, it would take a while for it to ramp up to the optimal temperature. Chris grabbed the air of pliers from his pocket and then grabbed the fat mare by the neck. He held her down her back, she yelled at him and saw the pliers sending a sudden rush of fear throughout her body. Chris reached the pliers to her first tooth, gripped onto the tooth, and snapped it out of her mouth. The pain was excruciating! The fat mare shrieked and sobbed, as Chris methodically ripped out each of her teeth. He wanted to maximize the pain she was experiencing, so Chris made sure to snap each tooth at the gumline, exposing the nerves and keeping the roots in. She screeched and begged as blood gushed out of her mouth, her hoofs feebly tapping Chris’s hands as she cried. It took ten very long minutes, but Chris triumphantly removed the last tooth and flung it right into her face.
The fat bitch was reduced to a quivering, cheeping mess of a fluffy. She shook violently with the intense throbbing pain that overtook her entire mouth. She violently shit all over the sink, caking her hind fur in foul smelling excrement. Although fluffies will fear losing their legs, losing their teeth is a much worse fate for them to endure. A fluffy needs their teeth to eat anything they can get their grubby little hooves on: Kibble, Sketties, Trash, and even shit in desperate times. When a fluffy loses its teeth, it loses its options when it comes to scarce resources which will almost always result in starvation. This is one of the few concepts that a fluffy understands, no teeth mean’s no food; and no food means death. This however was not the end of her punishment, as the worse was yet to come.
She felt an abrupt yank on the scruff of her fur as she continued to moan and complain about the pain in her jaw. Chris walked her over to the stove, she could feel the intense heat as they walked by. She felt his other hand grab the fluff right before her tail, she looked down and saw the super-heated stove coil. Before she could even attempt to beg, Chris pressed her down teat first on to the coil. The fat bitch let out a guttural shriek of agony, as the coil seared her areola and breast. Chris held the purple banshee in place as her left teat sizzled and seared. The kitchen air was filled with the smell of burnt flesh and charred fur, a revolting odor compounded with her own special blend of fluffy shit. Chris lifted her back up as she cheeped and screeched, “Pwease Nice Mistah Wawden, Fawt-Bwitch su sowwy pwase nu moa-”. Before she could finish that sentence, Chris pressed her back down on the other teat as she shrieked and cried again. The pain was so horrifically unbearable, she passed out mid scream going limp in Chris’s grip. Chris removed her from the stove and inspected his handiwork, her tits was badly burned and not a tooth was left in her jaw.
Chris turned off the stove and left her back in the sink as he cleaned up the kitchen. Her shit had gotten everywhere, along with fluffy blood and other unpleasant bodily fluids. He glared at the unconscious fat fluffy as she lay pathetically in a pile of her own shit, this was a start but not nearly enough for her to suffer what she did to his beloved Truffle. Chris hoisted her from the sink and brought her back out to the pen. He threw her back into the pen, she landed on her back hoof, possibly breaking it. There was a chorus of panicked cheeps from her foals, while the other mares took their own as far away from her mangled form as they could. Chris was done with her punishment for today, deciding to move on to the toughies next.
Day 4
It had been a few days since Chris checked up on the fat bitch, and he decided to pay her and her brood a little visit. He had noticed immediately after he doled out her punishment, the other mares had isolated her to one side of the pen. Perhaps it was the foul odor she gave off from her seared teats, or the incessant sobbing from her missing teeth that put the other mares off. Though perhaps the other mares have decided that now was the time to rebel when she was most powerless. No matter the reason, the fat-bitch and her foals were completely isolated, and it seems Chris’s punishment was taking its toll already.
She lay there pathetically, as five starving foals cheeped sadly at her. Her tits were very swollen and badly burned, leaking blood and puss from her nipples. Foals need to regularly consume milk from their mother, in order to grow big and strong. As chirpy babies, foals need to nurse six times a day getting 2oz of milk per feeding, while a talkie baby needs to nurse three times a day and get at least 6oz of milk per feeding. It was clear for how thin her foals were, they weren’t properly nursing since he seared her tits. Their faces were thin, ribcages exposed, and their spines easy to see. Foals can only drink milk until they become weanlings, they are not yet capable to stomach anything else. This was a problem for her foals, though she could produce milk, the foul taste of blood and puss made them vomit it up violently as they desperately tried to nurse. They cheeped incessantly pleading their mom for milk, desperate for anything they could hold down. This broke the fat mare’s heart, a pain worse than the torture Chris had put her through.
Her best baby, a little colt with yellow fluff and a red mane; attempted again to suckle from her teat, only to have his mouth filled with a slurry of blood, milk, and puss. He desperately tried to hold the vile liquid down, but the flavor was too revolting and immediately vomited the majority of it up. The little foal sobbed in despair and frustration. He pleaded with his mother, sobbing between words, “huuu huuu miwkies nu taste gud! Wai miwkies nu am guud? Nu wub Bestest Babbeh anymow”? An even thinner dark red and green maned unicorn foal struggled to crawl, she cheeped pathetically and complained. She loudly cried between pathetic peeps and chirps, “Chirp…chirp…nee…miwkies…hab bad tummeh owies! Mummah nu wub babbehs”?
Her five foals were starving; she pleaded with them to try and nurse from her teat. The pain was unbearable, but her babies desperately needed milk. The Fat bitch tearfully pleaded to her babies,
“Wai babbehs nu dwink miwkies?! Babbehs need Miwkies ou’ hab foweba sweepies! Pwease dwink miwkies babbehs, Mummah hab heawt huwties”!
She was turned on her side, her right back leg was broken leaving her immobile. Although she clearly had lost weight, the swelling in her jaw was apparent and nearly made up for it. It was clear she had an infection; she would most likely have a few days left before it turned septic. Chris walked over to her as she stared at him, unable to move with immense fear in her eyes. Chris looked down at this pitiful creature and her starving babies, it served all of them right what they did to his foals. Chris walked into the pen and kneeled down in the mud, he looked at her feigning a sympathetic look. He spoke to her, voice dropping with sarcasm, “Awe, what’s wrong fat-bitch? I thought you and your herd loved my land”. She responded to Chris, while breaking down into tears, “Babbehs nee miwkies, buh fawt-bwitches miwkie pwace nu work”! Chris looked around at the other mares, nursing their foals and asked the fat mare, “Why haven’t the other mares shared their milk with your foals, I thought you were the best mare”?
The fat bitch sobbed louder, her starving brood panicked at their mothers’ tears and began cheeping in unison. She sobbed, “meanie odda mawes nu wet babbehs dwink miwkies! Dey say am bad fwuffy, and nu enouf miwkies fo’ aww babbehs. Pwease Nice Wawden hewp fawt-bwitch, nu can num kibbuw-suuu hungwie”! Chris tried to feign concern for the mare, and a little bit of him actually felt bad. It really wasn’t the foal’s fault their parents were such awful creatures, punishing them as well felt somewhat excessive. Sadly though, Chris’s foals were also innocent but still faced the wrath of this nasty herd. In his eyes, every fluffy foal and all were guilty of this crime and he would have justice for what was done.
Chris looked at purple mare and said in the calmest voice he could muster, “Hey Fat-Bitch, I think I have some ‘nummies’ you can eat that you can easily eat and give good milk for your babies”! The purple mare stared in disbelief at Chris, was he really willing to help her foals live? She gasped audibly and responded, “Weawwy? Wawden hab nummies fo Fawt-Bwitch”? Chris responded, “Of Course, after all didn’t you give my foal Truffle some food as well”? A look of horror spread across her face as she remembered the brown, “Poopy Baby” that had the audacity to have a name and not eat her shit. Chris grabbed the shrieking mare by her scruff and dragged her straight to the designated shitting corner.
He shoved her face into the nasty excrement, as she shrieked. Chris screamed at her, “You hungry Fat-Bitch, eat all of this shit”! She screamed and squirmed, pleading with Chris, “Fawt Bwitch nuuuu want num poopies am Bestest Babbeh! Speshial fwend pwease hwep!!!” Chris slammed her face back in it and yelled at her, “Eat this shit or I’m going to force feed you your babies”! Upon hearing those words, she began to lap up the nasty shit, blend from multiple poorly fed fluffies. She gagged and threw up but was forced to continue eating until Chris had decided he had enough with her. He let her go and walked out of the pen, there were more fluffies he needed to check on.
The fat bitch crawled back; her stomach filled with nasty fluffy shit made her feel nauseous. It was a fitting punishment, she often decided which newborn foals became the designated shit eaters. Perhaps her last attempt in doing so with Truffle, was the final straw in which karmatic justice would lash back at her. She finally made it to her starving foals, desperately trying to get them to nurse from her swollen teats with limited luck. One of her foals, a blue fluffed and white maned filly, succumbed to starvation while attempting to suckle on her teat. The purple mare desperately tried to shake her baby awake, but her foal has departed from this realm. She sobbed lifting the baby she screamed, “Nuuuuuu Babbeh pwease nu foweba sweepies! Hab wostest hawt huwties”!
Day 7
It had been a full week since Chris had imprisoned his home invaders, and what a busy week it had been. The herd had been punished for their crimes, they were broken, and their morale was destroyed. Several died throughout the punishment process, though many more somehow desperately clinging to life. Although admirable in their resolve, Chris firmly believed that these fluffies were just too stupid to properly die. The week was drawing to a close and soon Chris would need to check up on Indy from the doctor. It was time to finish what he had started; it was time to finally terminate his captives.
Chris brough out his shovel and dug a three foot deep on the backside of his barn, he deemed this would be a fitting place for the bitch mare’s final punishment. The hole was isolated from the other remaining fluffies, so that her screams could be herd by no one but herself. Chris finished digging the hole and climbed himself out of it. He grabbed a small box, some scissors, and some fishing wire; making his way down to the mare’s pen to see the state of his captives. The Fat-Bitch looked horrendous: She had dramatically lost weight, her tits were gangrenous and swollen, and her jaw had begun to turn black and smell rotten. She hyperventilated, breathing hard as stressed fluffies often do when in searing agony. Huddled up into her fluff, were five emaciated foals of which none of them were breathing. She pathetically sobbed, complaining that all her babies took, “Foweba Sweepies”. Even after all this time, she still was desperately clinging to life.
Chris spoke sternly to her, “I guess your little shits couldn’t make it, too bad”. She was too weak to do more than nod and sob, hunger and infection had taken their toll on her feeble fluffy body. Chris got into the pen and grabbed her dead foals, he pulled off a good length of the fishing wire and wrapped them around their necks. This confused the starving mare, why would this human want her dead babies? Chris grabbed the formerly fat mare as well and put her on the table he had left outside earlier this week. She panicked as Chris held her in place, tying the wire to her horn, and wrapping the dead foal adorned wire around her body and tied at the end of her tail. She shrieked as he did this, her best baby’s corpse tied closest to her horn.
Chris looked down at her and said, “You have caused grievous crimes to the Carter family and have been sentenced to punishment and death”. She violently shook, desperately trying to plead with Chris but no words could escape her toothless mouth. Chris resumed, “Your final punishment will be having you buried alive with your nasty spawn, the last thing you will ever see is never ending darkness”. The Purple mare desperately tried to crawl off the table, but Chris yanked her up by the tail and threw her into the box. He closed the box over her, carrying it to the hole he had just dug earlier. She shriekd, pleading one last time, “Fawt-Bwitch Nuu wike Dawkies! Pwease nu weab Babbeh in wostest dawkies! Chirp…Chirp”. Chris placed the box down inside the hole and began to pile the dirt back over the box.
The box was tight and dark; it was filled with the scent of her rotting jaw and the decaying pheromone of her dead foals. The purple mare clawed at the box with her front hoofs as she heard the top of the box get pelted with dirt, effectively sealing her in her tomb. She hyperventilated and pleaded to anyone or anything that could hear her, but eventually gave up and resigned to her fate. It took two hours for her to deplete the oxygen in her box, it was a slow and miserable way to go. She drew one final breath, and collapsed limp surrounded with the corpses of her foals. The Fat-Bitch, was no more.