it was later that evening, as hazel prepared a sketty dinner in celebration of the foals opening their eyes, that she heard it.
Her hands were full of a big bowl of sketties, using her butt to push open the door only to be greeted by soft sobbing. Her head turned at the noise, seeing S’mores huddled in the corner, cowering in fear. Poopie was hovering over her, tiny hoof raised up above her threateningly—
“Mummah teww bestest babbeh nu am Poopie!! YU am poopie!!” screamed the foal, slamming down her hoof against the brown foal’s flank aggressively. Hazel was seeing red almost immediately, bowl half hazardously tossed to a nearby table before she springs into action.
In one fell swoop, the blue foal is snatched up, scardy poopies covering the floor and a soft “bad upsies” squealing out.
“WHAT do you think you’re DOING, you little shitrat!?” she exclaimed, the bestest babbeh hiding behind her hooves. “M-mummah said—“ an aggressive shake cuts her off and earns a “scree” and more shitting.
“I give you a name, I give you and your bitch mother a warm house, food and toys— I even bring you a delicious sketty meal and THIS is what you do!?” another violent shake, and were the foal not already empty she’s sure there’d be another mess.
Her head turns to S’mores with concern, reaching her free hand out to lift the tiny chin up so they can lock eyes. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
The brown foal sniffles and nods, “A-am otay mummah… onwy a widdle huwties… mostwy just haf heawt huwties…” she coos, tugging at Hazels heartstrings.
“Boys, give your sister huggies while I deal with this little brat,” she spoke, glancing down to the colts who had previously been huddled together in their nest. Quickly, they scramble to their feet and dash over to S’mores, wrapping her up in a group hug.
Petunia stands from her previous spot, finally daring to puff out her cheeks at her mother.
“Dummeh Mummah giv bestest babbeh dummeh namesies and gif poopie babbeh wuv!! Petwunia am tiwed of mummah being a dummeh!!! Teww bestest babbeh her namesies is Poppy and dat poopie babbeh no am s’mowes, am Poopie!!” She shouted, obviously tired of Hazels “mistreatment”.
“Now gif bestest mummah back bestest babbeh and gif sketties nao—“ her tantrum is cut short with a swift kick to the side, sending the fluffy flying across the room and into the wall.
“Scree!!! Why huwt fwuffy!!! Fwuffy am good fwuffy!!!”
hazel walks over to the pile of purple fluffy, grabbing the blue mane roughly in her hand.
“You’re a shit fluffy, Petunia. I think it’s about time your fluff matches your personality.” The bestest babbeh is tossed down to the floor next to her shit pile, giving a soft “owies” as she hits the carpet.
“And you better have that mess cleaned up by the time I’m back or else,” she points at the shit then glares at Poopie until the foal stands on shaking legs. “Huu-huu nu taste pwetty…” sobbed the foal as she began licking up the mess.
With that taken care of, hazel is out the door and headed towards the bathroom. Carelessly, the fluffy is tossed into the tub with a cry of pain. Hazel ignores this, too distracted with searching through her cabinets for something special.
She continued to ignore to fluffy’s pleas for mercy, giving a grin as she pulls her prizes from the shelf: a pair of scissors, a mixing bowl, a small dye brush, and a box of the cheapest, most chemical filled brown dye she could find. With a sinister expression, the woman turns to the fluffy.
“I’m going to show you what a real ‘poopie fluffy’ looks like.”
Petunia doesn’t understand the words or implications, but the look on her mother’s face has her sloping and sliding in the bottom of the tub. There’s little time wasted as the mare is grabbed, immediately getti her beautiful mane snipped down to an ugly Mohawk and her tail being docked.
She’s already begun sobbing about her lost fur, crying for her “pwetty tawlsies and fur” to be returned. When the trim is finished, Petunia is once again shaking with sobs, trying to collect the blue hair in her hooves.
“F-fwuffy… nu pwetty anymowe… huuhuu pwomise be gud fwuffy if mummah g-gif back pwetty tawlsies…”
“Aw, that’s cute— you think it’s over?”
There’s a terror in Petunia’s eyes at the statement, but before she can react she’s being held down once more and slathered with a brown goo. She begins to scree as the cold substance touches her fur, almost immediately causing her skin beneath to burn and inflame. Hazel relishes the sounds as she paints her fluffy brown, being sure to get every nook and cranny.
It’s ten minutes before she’s finally finished, and another twenty of Petunia screaming and crying in pain while they wait for the dye to set. The torture ends with a cold blast from the shower head and a rough scrubbing to remove any excess dye.
Finally, Petunia sits in the tub, soaked and a disgustingly muddy brown color as the dye did not mix well with her previously lavender fur.
A smirk grows in the woman’s face, and the punishment is topped off with a hand mirror being shoved in Petunia’s face.
“Look, shitrat, now you match how you’ve been acting,” she sings proudly.
Petunia retracts almost immediately, screeching at the top of her lungs at the hideous sight.
“NU!!! NU AM TWUE!!! P-PETUNIA… PETUNIA AM PWETTY FWUFFY!! NU AM POOPIE!!”
“Oh? But look at yourself. You’re poopie, see?”
The mare doesn’t want to look, but hazel grips her head and forces her to see herself. She’s rewarded with more desperate crying from the fluffy.
Satisfied with her work, the mirror is set aside and hazel grabs the fluffy once more by the scruff of her neck. She returns to the safe room to find s’mores and her brothers happily playing with some blocks, poopie is still sobbing next to a half-eaten pile of shit.
Petunia is tossed beside her, causing her and her siblings to scream at the sudden appearance of the ugly fluffy.
“m-munstah!!! Su scawy!! Nu huwt babbeh!!” cried the blue foal as she scrambled away.
“Nu am Munstah!!” sobs Petunia, “am mummah!!”
“M…mummah?? Why mummah ugwy… Nu smeww pwetty eider…” Poopie sniffs at the mare, recoiling from the chemically smell.
“That’s what happens when you’re a BAD fluffy. Your fur turns yucky and smells bad,” Hazel states then grabs the bowl of sketties and leaves. She makes her way back to the kitchen, shoving the contents into a blender then moving the liquid into the microwave to warm it back up.
With a smile, she returns to her foals and places the bowl down for them.
“Here you go my angels. They were supposed to be for your mummah so she could give you the sweetest milkies, but since she was a bad fluffy, you’ll get the delicious skettie soups instead,” she chimed softly, watching as Merengue, Huck, Açaí and S’mores approached with bright eyes. They sniffed at the substance, Merengue being the brave one to try it first. When he gasps and digs right in, the others follow suit and join him in the feast.
Poopie attempts to join in, but is stopped by Hazels hand and quickly placed next to her mess that she had yet to finish.
“This is your nummies tonight. Only good fluffies get skettie soup, and you were a very BAD fluffy.”
She’s met with a new round of crying, watching as the foal reluctantly licks away at her mess once more.
“W…wha bout Petwunia mummah— c-can has sketties?” Uttered a soft voice, a newly brown mare looking up hopefully.
“You aren’t allowed any either. You’ve been a very VERY bad fluffy. You can eat the kibble in the corner or you can eat nothing.”
the mare looks like she’s about to argue, but decides against it and sadly waddles over to the afore mentioned kibble.
In order to prevent any more fighting or food thieves, Hazel plops down in a nearby rocking chair and watches the scene before her. Strike two, Petunia.
Third strike and you’re out.
