Now that the foals could walk and talk, keeping them all in line was near impossible. While most of the time it was an accidental poopie or argument over a toy, there were still a few times that stemmed from Petunia and Poopie. Most situations were solved with the sorry stick and sorry box, though Hazel could tell these lessons weren’t really registering correctly in the fluffies heads.
One night, around 3am, Hazel lay asleep in her bed— it had been a long day and Poopie has spent the majority of it in the sorry box. She was finally let out right before bed, mostly because she seemed remorseful of her crimes and even apologized for her misdeeds.
All seemed well, until a shrill voice rang from the baby monitor, the words “fowevah sweepies” shaking what remnants of the exhaustion away as the woman bolted down the stairs.
Petunia had had enough. Poopie had been whispering in her ear all night after being released. They discussed back and forth all their misfortunes and came to the finally conclusion— it was s’mores fault. If it weren’t for that poopie babbeh, Petunia would still be beautiful and her bestest babbeh would have the bestest namesies ever. Instead, they were both treated how SHE should have been, neither being able to understand why.
Finally, Petunia stood from blanket and stomped over to the fluffy pile of foals. She huffed softly, watching Poopie drag S’mores from the warmth and over to their mother. She chirped softly, blinking around in confusion.
“Why wakesies babbeh? Nu am bwight timesies yet…” she yawned, looking from face to face before trying to shy away.
She’s stopped by Poopie who has positioned herself behind her sister and promptly knocked her onto her back.
“Mummah gon gib stupee poopie babbeh fowevah sweepies,” she snickered, to which the brown foals face shifted in horror.
“It am yu fauwt dat mummah no wub bestest mummah and bestest babbeh! Am yu fault bestest mummah nu am pwetty and bestest babbeh nu hab pwetty namesies!! Mummah deciwde it am timesies for FOWEVAH SWEEPIES!” she screeches in frustration, hoof raised high about the foal, ready to crush her tiny body beneath it.
She’s not given the chance, however, as the door to the safe room is slammed out and a foot collides with her ribs. The mare is knocked back a bit, nearly choking as the wind had been knocked out of her. She’s not given a moment to recover as the same foot strikes her stomach again and again until she’s wheezing and sobbing, laying in a pile of her own shit and pee.
Poopie watches in horror as her mother is beaten, quickly puffing her cheeks out and turning to s’mores.
“Nu wowwie mummah!!! Bestest babbeh wiww gib. Sissie fowevah sw—“ she can’t even finish her sentence, not even noticing the hand reaching down. The foal is gripped so tightly she releases all her body’s contents onto the floor.
“You want to talk about forever sleepies, PETUNIA? I’ll show you forever sleepies!!” there’s no time for the words to sink in before the blue foal is thrown against the wall behind petunia, a sickening crack echoing throughout the room. Her body falls limply on top of her mother, whose screaming in horror and begging for her foal to wake up. The blue foal’s head is twisted the wrong direction from the impact, eyes rolled back into her skull lifelessly.
Hazel once again turns to the mother, hated in her eyes. “I’m not done with you, shitwhore,” she threatens, turning to pick up s’mores, return her to the blanket her brothers are cowering in, and carry them out of the safe room and into the living room.
They’re set on the couch, snuggled up to each other and whimpering softly. Hazel finally lets her tears fall from her face, unable to hold back her anger.
Still, despite this, she wasn’t a torturer. There was a big difference between punishment and abuse, and she wasn’t sure she could cross that line— hell, even killing Poopie wasn’t her intention and she felt ill just thinking about it.
Instead, she pulls her cellphone from her housecoat pocket and calls up a friend.
“Hey… Lana? Sorry to call so late but I—- I need you.”
Lana was an abuser…. And Hazel’s exe girlfriend. They broke up a year ago when Lana got a job at a fluffy mart where she “punished” fluffies. It wasn’t the most reputable place, and hazel was fully away that there were definitely rules being bent. She couldn’t really handle the idea of someone she loved hurting innocent animals, but after all her research and personal experience… she could understand why.
The call lasts merely seconds, Lana already tugging on her jacket and shoes. She’s out the door in an instant, jumping in her pickup and headed towards Hazel’s.
Lana arrives ten minutes later, entering the home with the spare key she still held on to and approaching the sobbing woman. She comforts Hazel, finally helping her settle down so the situation can be explained.
“How much longer until the foals are weaned?”
“Probably a week? I think merengue and Açaí have their first teeth already…”
“And you don’t want to bottle feed them?”
“You know fluffies do better with real mare milk— besides, that bitch having to feed s’mores was a pretty decent punishment … before this.”
“Well, okay. I think I know what to do. Just let me grab some stuff from my pick up.”
Lana leaves the residence and returns shortly after with a duffel bag. “I’m gonna grab the shitrat and take her into the garage for some… improvements. You should stay here.”
Hazel nods, lowering her head to her lap— which is now occupied by a certain brown foal. The woman coos, petting the filly while also checking for any damage.
“There there… mummah loves you. She won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”
she raises her head in time to see Lana carrying petunia— whose still clinging to the corpse of her bestest babbeh— and she watched them disappear through the side door that leads to the garage.
[ petunia abuse redacted so this story can be friendly for all readers. I may make a separate chapter for this later on if enough people want to see the gorey details. ]
It’s around 6am, Hazel is currently asleep on the couch and surrounded by the foals. The door to the garage opens quietly, then the sound of footsteps and another door closes. Another open door, more footsteps, and suddenly there’s a gentle hand at her cheek.
Hazel stirs awake at the touch, glancing around in confusion before her eyes settle on Lana’s face. She smiles for a moment, then the nights events come back to her and she slowly frowns.
“Hey— everything’s all set in the safe room,” Lana stated, and Hazel gives a nod. She gathers the sleeping foals back up and follows the other into the room.
The rug has been cleaned of all evidence of the night and a shaking figure sits in the corner of the room.
It’s petunia— now legless and attached to some sort of machine. There’s a feeding tube in her mouth and excrement tubes in her special place and poopie place. There’s a half-asses stitch job on her stomach, probably from Lana’s less-than-professional spay job. Her muddy brown cheek fur is stained with tears. She’s successfully been turned into a Milkbag. The blanket o’ babies are set back in the nest, foals barely noticing the movement.
Hazel smiles, uttering a soft “thank you” then turning to hug the woman who stiffens are the touch. “I should go—“
“Why don’t you stay? It’s late…”
and with that, the two exit the room and head upstairs.
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A week goes by, the foals seem to have adjusted to their new milkbag and have even begun eating kibble softened with mare milk.
Their pictures had been posted online, up for sale to hugboxers ONLY. Hazel was picky with their new owners, but finally settled on a few that seem reputable and loving.
One by one, her boys went off to their new homes— the buyers promising play dates for S’mores who would be remaining with Hazel.
The time had come when S’mores was old enough to eat “big fluffy food”, even settling down to a big bowl of sketties which she happily consumed in front of Petunia who only whimpered softly.
“Well, shitrat, it looks like all your foals are grown up and don’t need your milk anymore. Guess you’re not longer useful,” she spoke with a shrug, watching as Lana— her once again girlfriend— took the milkbag off the machines. A toothless sob weakly escapes the mare, though it’s ignored as she’s tossed carelessly into a cat carrier.
“Alright, s’mores. Finish all your sketties and be good for Mummah Lana, okay? Mummah Hazel has to take care of something.”
Her fluffy grins and nods, mouth covered in sauce.
“Otay mummah!!! S’mowes be weawwy gud and num aww dah sketties!! Dank yu mummah, wub yu!!”
“I love you too, baby.”
With that, hazel leaves the house and tosses the carrier into her back seat, heading down the road and towards an oh-so familiar alleyway.
As she exists the vehicle, carrier in hands, she approaches another familiar site.
“Look, Shitunia, your boxie is still here!” She squeals happily, opening the cage and shaking it roughly until the sack of fluffy shit is dropped onto the cold ground.
“Better hurry and wiggle your way inside, don’t want any feral stallions to find you and make you their enfie mare!” she states in a singsong voice, relishing the last of Petunia’s huuhuu’s she’ll ever hear.
“I’d love to stay and help you move in, but I have a beautiful family waiting for me at our warm house. They’d have the biggest heart hurties if I’m gonna too long. I’m sure you understand!”
And with that, the woman turns on her heel and heads back to her vehicle, leaving the pillow fluff alone and shivering in the cold alleyway.
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There you have it!! The end to my first story and S’mores origin story!
I hope everyone enjoyed !! Thank you all for the support 
all of this if she only stop being a bitch. But thats fluffy for you some won’t change no matter what.
