This chapter will serve as an explanation of what happens when Princess’ owner, from chapter 8, knows about what she does. This is my first actual abuse story, so I hope I did it well.
. . .
You are the owner of Princess. An abuser who has one trick but loves it so much. You spoil the fluffies rotten, but when they fuck up once, you go medieval on their ass. This makes them develop the idea that they can do whatever they want and get away with it, as long as nobody is watching. When someone discovers their antics, the fear shakes them down to the bone. And it is wonderful.
Today you heard that Princess had not only been caught stealing food, but she got into a fight, and shat all over the carpet in the process. This would be your grand finale for her, and that bitch would finally be out of your hair, and then you go and grab another foal from the fluffmart.
But this was going to have a twist. Apparently the caretaker knew that she had gotten knocked up by another stallion, and they hid it pretty well. If it weren’t for the fact that as soon as the caretaker stepped out of the room, she began her shrill singing, thinking he couldn’t hear. She would regret it.
. . .
“Hello Princess! How’s my wonderful little royal fluffy?”
“H-hewwo daddeh…”
“What’s wrong?”
“N-nuffin daddeh! Fwuffy am otay!”
Grabbing her and stuffing her in a carrier, you left her to cower in her own piss and shit, she knew that you found out, and you wanted her to dread every second of her punishment before it even started. Humming to yourself, you listen to the sweet sound of her trying to hide her sobs.
. . .
“OWWIES!”
You slam Princess down on the cold, metal table in your basement. Her eyes darted around, looking at all the various torture tools you owned.
“So then Princess, what’s this I hear about you getting into a fight?”
“N-nu Pwincess’ fauwt! Pwincess saw munstah fwuffy an-an’ poopie fwuffy!”
“But I thought you knew that Alicorns and Bad Colored fluffies were nice?”
“Meanie fwuffy twy tu gif fowebah sweepies to fwuffy!”
“Princess, why would you lie to me?”
“N-nu am wying!”
“The caretaker told me allll about it. But do you want to know a funny secret?” You lean in close, right next to her ear. “I know you have tummy babbehs.”
She instantly scrambles back, almost falling off the table. “Nu! Fwuffy nu haf tummeh babbehs!”
“Oh? If you don’t, then how about I squeeze your tummy to make sure?”
“NU! PWINCESS AM SOWWY! JUS’ WAN’ BABBEHS! BABBEHS MAK’ EVEWYTING BETTAH!”
Her stomach growls. Looks like something stopped her feeding time at daycare. “If babies make everything better…” You grab a grinder off the shelf. “Then they should make sketties taste better, right!”
“Nu knyo…”
“Well then, let’s find out!” You swing her up by the legs, ignoring the cries of ‘bad upsies!’. You hold her over the grinder, and smile. “You’re such a bad mother, lying to me, stealing nummies, and being mean to other fluffies!”
“Pwincess am sowwy!”
“I bet your babies hate you. Don’t they?”
“NU! AM BESTEST MUMMAH!”
“Then let’s see if they’ll stay with you!” You squeeze hard, working down her stomach like a tube of toothpaste, as her agonizing wailing bounces off the walls. First shit, then piss, then…
SPLORT!
“TUMMEH BABBEHS! NUUUUU! STAY WIF MUMMAH!”
Underdeveloped foals shoot out and land in the grinder, soaking in the disgusting mess Princess made. You put her down, and she can barely stand from the pain. Grabbing a plate, you place it in front of the grinder, and slowly begin twisting the handle.
“TUMMEH BABBEHS! NUUUUHUHUHU! PWEASE DADDEH! NU GIF TUMMEH BABBEHS FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!”
You don’t even look, just stare at the meat-spaghetti dish you made with her own foals. She’s a crying mess at this point, begging for everything in the world. You turn back, and she instantly stops the crying.
“Sketties always needs meatballs, right?! Then lets MAKE SOME!” You grab a cleaver off the wall, and dash towards her, watching her scramble like a cat rounding corners. You pin her down, and begin twisting one of her front legs.
“SCREEE! PWINCESS AM SOWWY DADDEH! FWUFFY WIWW BE GUD FWUFFY! PWEASE NU TAK WEGG-”
CHOP!
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WEGGIE! NU GU WAY WEGGIE! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!”
Her suffering bring you so much joy. You let her stare at her severed leg, and grab the soldering iron. While still crying over her lost limb, you begin to cauterize the wound, with a loud, satisfying hissing noise.
“SCREEEEEEEEEE! BUWNIE HUWTIES! NU MOWE! PWEASE!”
You hoist her up by the scruff, and force her to watch as you crush her leg with the grinder, and shape them into meatballs. You let the meatballs spill into the dish, and you offer it to her. She ignores it.
“Wan weggie bak… wan tummeh babbehs bak…”
“EAT! OR I’LL TAKE ALL OF YOUR LEGS!”
“HUUUU HUUU! WAN TUMMEH BABBEHS BACK!”
You change back to your soothing voice. “Your tummeh babbehs are in there! If you eat them, they’ll be back in your tummeh, safe and sound!” She cries, and begins to eat the dish.
. . .
The next tool you grab is the razor, after she’s done eating. While still sobbing from all the agony, you attack her with the razor, shaving off all of her fluff.
“HUUU HU!! PWEASE DADDEH, NU TAK’ PWETTY FWUFF! NEE’ FWUFF TU BE PWETTIEST FWUFFY EBAH!”
You dump all the fluff into a small bucket. “You want your fluff back, right?”
“Yesh…”
“GOOD!” You take out a smaller bucket, able to fit her. You pour glue into it, and wrap your hands around her neck, and dunk her in, making sure not to drown her.
“WAWA BAD FOW FWUFFIES! PWEASE DADDEH! NU MOWE WAWA!”
While slowly grabbing her out of the bucket, making sure she cries all the way, you throw her in the bucket of fur, and roll her around in it. “All your fluff will stick back to you after this!” Still crying for it, you’re tempted to just rip her out, take some skin with it from the glue. But then you have a better idea.
You tug on the tail. “Let me get you out!” And you yank as hard as you can.
“SCREEEE! NU TAK’’ TAIW! PWEASE! HUUUUHUUUHUUUUU!”
You pin her down after strapping gloves on, and begin to rip her tail out. The screeching begins to hurt her voice, and it starts to turn into a long “huuuuuuuuuuu”. With one final yank, the tail is off, and she regains her voice.
“SCREEEEEE! PWETTY TAIW! PWEASE GIF PWETTY TAIW BAK’!”
You ignore the screaming, and rip her out of the bucket, with another scream from the pain. You shaved her fluff off, ripped out her tail, made her eat her foals and leg, and you wanted her to vomit it out. Propping her up on her ass, you grab a string and tie a knot to a lamp dangling from the top. Then, you take a tuft of fur that is glued to her, and tie a knot around that. As she dangles, she pleads with you. She won’t even be able to walk after this.
You begin to slowly spin her around, building up force. The string is beginning to get tighter and tighter, so you give her one last smile. “Your tummeh babbehs don’t want to be with you anymore! They want to leave, so I’ll help!” You let go.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The string rapidly begins to spin her around, trying to return to its original position. She’s become a tornado of fluff, crying, and shit. Eventually, her suffering stops, as the string finally ends it’s torture. But her eyes show that she definitely doesn’t feel any better.
“Nu feww pwetty…” And she instantly vomits up pieces of kibble, flesh, and foals. Hairless, down a leg, without foals, and sick, you open the back door, and hurl her into the forest.
“SCREEEEEE! DADDEH HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWPPPPPPP!”
And with that, your work is done. Time for a new fluffy.
. . .
You’re Princess, and you’re in agony. Your tummy babbehs took forever sleepies, and you had to num them and your leggy! Then your munstah daddeh took your fluff, but then it stuck back to you, and it felt so weird. And finally, he gave you the worst sickies and you made sickie wawa, with all your babbehs inside of it. But then, you hear growling. And see the weirdest monster ever.
“Hmph. You would make a decent meal.”
And with that, the monsters mouth filled with rows and rows of teeth, swallows you whole.
