[I’m feeling irritated, so here’s some pointless sadism to vent the stress.]
“Mummah gib bestest miwkies to babbehs!” the mare crooned in its vexingly high voice. Around her several foals milled around, eyes open but unable to speak. Occasionally she’d shuffle them around so they all got a time to nurse.
Suddenly, with a sharp “CRACK!” the mare jolted sideways, crying out in pain and surprise. The impact had shattered the fragile bones in her front right leg, and the pellet had imbedded itself deep into the flesh. “SCREEEEE!” she wailed in agony, as the foals milled about in confusion and terror.
Someone approached, still holding the pellet gun that had ruined the mare’s leg. “Hello there,” she said, in a sing-song voice, mocking and cruel.
“Pwease! Nu huwt babbehs! Nu gib fwuffy mowe owwies!”
“I think I’m going to hurt you, and the babbehs.”
“Nuuuu! Wai?”
“Just because I can. Now, if your foals run right now some of them might get away, or I might get them all anyway. With that leg you aren’t going anywhere.”
“Bu’ babbehs nee’ mummah! Am onwy wittwe chiwpy babbehs!”
“I guess your all coming with me, then.”
The mare continued to sob and protest as she was roughly shoved into a box, along with her foals. The smell of blood and the sounds of their mummah had driven the foals into a state of absolute panic, and they ran around the inside of the box, unable to escape. The mare murmured softly to them, trying to comfort them, but was barely able to keep back the sobs of pain.
They were carried down stairs into a basement. It was well-lit and dry, but cold enough that the foals began shivering immediately. The mare couldn’t hold back the sobs of terror as the box was set down with a jolt. Her tears only increased the foal’s terror.
“Oh, look at the little green one!” the woman said, in a tone of faux delight, pointing at an earthie foal. “Why, I’m sure she would grow up to be a big, strong fluffy!”
“CHEEP! CHEEP! CHIRP!” the foal called out, desperate for help as she was roughly handled. The mare sobbed and begged. “Pwease nu huwt babbeh! Babbehs am fow huggies an wub! Nu am fow owwies!”
“I wonder if she’ll grow up to be a big, strong fluffy with no leggies!”
“NUUUU! BABBEH NEE’ WEGGIES! PWEASE NU HUWT BABBEH!”
“SCREEEEE! CHEEP! CHIRP!” the foal wailed as the first leg was gripped tightly in a pair of pliers, then twisted roughly off. The shrieks continued as the remaining legs were removed, one by one, and the stumps cauterized with a soldering iron.
“NU! NU! NU!” the mare screamed over and over as she watched her foal’s mutilation.
“Oh, looks like all that babbeh’s leggies are gone. I guess I’ll take the leggies from another babbeh.”
“Nuuuuuuu! Babbehs nee’ weggies fow wunnin’ and pwayin’ and gibin’ huggies!”
“How about the yellow one?”
“Pwease nu huwt yewwow babbeh!”
“Hmm…I guess the pink babbeh it is!”
“NUUUUUUU! NU HUWT BESTEST BABBEH! TAEK FWUFFIES WEGGIES! NU TAEK BESTEST’S WEGGIES!”
“You want me to take your legs instead?”
“Nu wan wose weggies! Bu’ nu wan bestest tu wose weggies!”
“I’ll make you a deal. I take your leggies, right now, and I won’t take any more of your foals’ leggies. But, if you scream while I do it, I take all of your babbehs’ leggies.”
“TAEK WEGGIES! JUS’ NU HUWT BABBEHS NU MOWE!”
“All right then. You have a deal.”
The mare bit down on her tongue until it bled, barely managing to hold in the scream as her first leg was roughly hewn off with a hatchet. She twitched and her eyelids flickered, barely conscious, as legs were removed and wounds were cauterized. But she didn’t scream.
“Well, I guess you really do care about your babbehs. Okay, I won’t take their leggies.”
“T…ank…'ou…nice…wa…dy…”
“But I’m going to take their seeing-places and hearing-places and talkie-places!”
“NU! 'OU PWOMISED! NU HUWT BABBEHS!”
“I never said I wouldn’t hurt them, just that I wouldn’t take their leggies. Oh, that gives me an idea!”
She walked away, leaving the mare shrieking and sobbing. She soon returned with a box of long nails. She picked up the pink foal, causing the mare to wail even louder, and gently placed a nail at the base of the foal’s leg. The foal struggled and chirped, senseless with fear. “SCREEEEE! BABBEH HAB BIGGEST WEGGIE-OWWIES!” she wailed as the nail was sharply struck, driving itself deep into the leg.
“Bestest babbeh am tawkie babbeh nao!” the mare rasped, clinging to the one little spark of joy she had in this horrible place.
“Not for long!”
“NU! NU WAN WOSE TAWKIE-PWACE! SCREEE-” the foal shrieked, but was cut off as the pliers reached into her mouth and ripped out her tongue.
“NUUUUU! BESTEST BABBEH NEE’ TAWKIE-PWACE! NU WAN BESTEST BE DUMMEH BABBEH!”
…
The mare lay on the rough concrete of the alleyway, unable even to shift her wait to ease the horrible pain of her blistered stumps. Around her, her foals stumbled blindly, legs made rigid with the nails imbedded in them, making strangled vocalizations as they attempted to chirp. With no legs and with the foals deafened, she couldn’t even guide them to her to feed. Not that the milk would last long with her unable to forage for food.
One by one, the foals died, from infection, injury, or just hopelessness the mare couldn’t tell. Soon, she was all alone, there in the alley, watching the bugs eat her precious babbehs. She laid down her head, giving up on hope and willing herself to die. “Wan die…wan die…wan die…”
“Hey, looks like someone killed a bunch of foals and pillowed a feral mare!”
The mare raised her head, seeing a kind, youthful face looking down at her. Maybe this human could save her from this nightmare. Maybe he would give her peace.
“Pwease, kiww fwuffy! Fwuffy wan die!”
“And give up a free litter-pal? I don’t think so!”
“WAN DIE! WAN DIE! WAN DIE!”
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Abuse stories are a fantastic stressball when frustrated.
Neat story and hope you feel better friend. 
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The ending made me laugh out loud.
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