Hi!! This is my first story here. I’ve been lurking for a while and trying to decide what I wanted to do first, so I figured little intro to my fluffy and her backstory would be the best start!! Not sure if this should be abuse or abuse-ish since it won’t be overly violent, but there will be some abuse in the form of bad mummah and bestest babbeh punishment! If I have to add or change tags, let me know!
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Hazel had been thinking about this for months. Fluffies had been on her mind nearly every day— from hugbox to abuse, it enticed her. While she would never personally seek out an innocent fluffy to torture ( despite going down the forums of such events every now and again) the stories of justice well served still caught her attention. Something about about teaching smarties and bad mummahs a lesson enticed her.
One day off, she walked past an alleyway and the sound of a ‘mummah loves babies’ song caught her attention. Her head snapped to the side, peering into the disgusting display of human waste for any sign of technicolor fur. A box was shaking about halfway down and curiosity took over. Casually, she approached the cardboard, peeking in an earning a ‘gasp’ and a cacophony of chirps and cheeps.
“Nyu mummah?” asked the pale purple mummah, nearly knocking all of her foals over in her excitement. she’s got a light blue mane that’s matted and sticky with god knows what, but a smile still gleams on her chubby expression. Her head is decorated with a matching purple horn. Hazel would assume the only reason she still looked so plump was due to the baby fat and not from actually eating enough.
Hazel thinks for a moment at the aforementioned question, humming softly to herself in contemplation. She has been considering taking in a fluffy ever since delving into the rabbit hole of the community, her house was already equipped with a safe room and all the necessities. She tapped her chin for a moment, the made an obviously glance at the babbehs.
“Maybe I could be your new mummah, but I’d like to meet your foals first,” she states in a sing-song tone and the unicorn quickly obliges.
One by one the chirpies are laid before her. The human hummed and hawed, carefully picking up each individual foal— while being reminded to ‘be caweful, Dey onwy widdle chirpie babbehs!’
The first is a rather fat looking baby blue unicorn with a white tail and white freckle-like marks on its snout. A gentle flip of the creature shows it’s a filly. Judging by milk filled tummy and similar colors to its mother, this was the favorite. if there were any doubt, an excited ‘dats mummah’s bestest babbeh!’ only served to confirm it.
the next was pale yellow with a pale purple tail and tiny white flecks speckling the flank, the tiny wings showing it to be a pegasus. One quick look down and she now knows it’s a colt.
the third is a dull blue-gray earthie with a darker blue tail, another colt. The final is yet another unicorn,a dark blue with a white mane… and it’s a colt.
Strange, 3 colts and only 1 filly? Usually it was a little more even than that. Just as she thought this, movement and chirping from around the side of the box catches her eye. The mummah seems to notice this too, and looks irritated as her foals are disregarded for what she would assume is—-
A poopie babbeh. Hazel furrows her brow at the realization, pushing the box ‘door’ aside to see a tiny foal, shivering and crying beside a pile of shit. The poor thing looks starved, too young to even attempt to eat the ‘meal’ it had been placed there to consume.
with a very ginger hand, Hazel scoops the creature up, earning a mass of terrified peeps. She was sure her hand would be covered in shit and piss were the little thing not so starved.
the foal itself is another earthie. It’s a cappuccino brown with a chocolate brown and white striped tail. It’s flank and snout are dusted with while specks. honestly, it was probably the best looking of the group in her opinion. A quick check shows the shivering runt is a filly.
Trying her best to hide her anger, Hazel returns to the mummah and practically shoves the foal in her face.
“Why didn’t you show me this one when I asked to see your babbehs?” she asked pointedly, and the confusion on the mother’s face fades away with a “dat am poopie babbeh!! Nu deserwve wuv or huggies or nyu mummah or—“
Hazel cuts her off with a shushing finger, trying not to get ahead of herself with the rage building inside.
“You know what? I WILL be your new mummah, on ONE condition—“
“c…cond…dision?”
Right, fluffies are fucking stupid.
“You can come home with me and all you have to do is feed your brown foal before we leave.”
There’s a look of disgust and defiance, alone with a babble of ‘but dat am poopie babbeh! Poopie babbeh nu desewve miwkies!! Only good for num poopies!’ Before hazel shrugs and stands, still gently clutching the foal.
“Fine. Then I’ll take this babbeh only and feed it myself— you and your other foals can starve!”
The mummah looks panicked now, eyes darting around as she tries to weigh her options with what little semblance of intelligence she has before finally huffing and laying down into a nursing position.
“O…otay. Poopie babbeh can have widdle miwkies … den mummah and oder babbehs get new mummah and homsies,” she spoke as if trying to convince herself more than her new mother. With a smirk, Hazel bends back down and holds the foal out, allowing it to latch on to one of the nipples and fill its pour belly with the sweet, creamy milk. Poor thing, it probably hadn’t been fed since birth. The mummah looks away in disgust, only the promise of a warm house and safe room keeping her from kicking the foal away with her back hoof.
When the chirpie finally detaches , it gives a soft ‘urp’ and begins to coo. Hazel smiles, holding the little creature out as it clings to her thumb, gently using her other thumb to massage the fat little belly until it relieves itself. A tissue is removed from her purse and used to gingery clean the creature before it’s placed safely in a warm glove that was half-hazardly shoved in her coat pocket from winter. She’s not about to trust this mother to carry the foal on her back with the rest of her brood, and there’s no way Hazel is carrying the mummah covered in all that shit and piss. She’d just have to walk. At least she was headed towards a new home. Unfortunately for the her, this was probably the nicest thing hazel would ever do for her. Like she said before, she hated bad mummahs.
“Alright, mummah. Grab your other foals, we’re going home.”
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Ahh I hope this was okay!! I think I got the fluffy speak down okay, I’ve never really written in it— only read it. There will be more to this story and eventually a drawing ( at least of s’mores!!) and there will be plenty bad mummah and bestest babbeh punishment as well.
