If you are new to this small series please start with:
Cinnamummah’s Unhappy Babies #1
Cinnamummah’s Unhappy Babies #2
Obligatory shoutout to @AmbitiousLeather8309 for all their support with the series and a sorry to @WildeFaun who has had their hopes for a peaceful end dashed again and again
After the incident with Ziggy and Lacy, Cinnamummah had become much more ‘protective’ over her last remaining foal. The show staff would constantly be screeched at by the butterball mare, sometimes chased off with rapid hoof tapping and shouts of ‘nu take wast babbeh!’
They all came to the logical conclusion that she was afraid out of love. Honestly it was one of the few times the mare had shown any sort of likableness, and so they were easy to cave to her demands when pertaining to Cinnamini. Staff members largely left the room alone except for quick cleanings and feeding time, happy to leave the foal to her own business. She was eating kibble now and they wouldn’t have to worry about her starving to death, so that was fair enough.
Well. They thought she was eating kibble.
Feedings were done twice a day: Once in the morning, once at night. Both under the watchful eye of Cinnamummah who had taken up her bitchiness a few levels. The staff never actually saw the foal during this time and were of the mind that she had likely been hidden away out of fear she’d be taken to ‘acting school’. As soon as the staff left? Cinnamummah rushed her fat-ass over and shoved her head down in the bowl labeled ‘Cinnamini’, gobbling up the food so fast that her daughter never even had a chance. It wasn’t as if she could anyways.
“Cinnymummah, pwease! Pwease pwease pwease gib Cinnymineh kibbews!” She pleaded day after day after the show’s staff had left. The little one knew better than to come out of hiding when they were around. Her monster mummah had cornered her the day after ‘Ziggy’ had left and let her know it wasn’t in her best interests.
“Nu am Cinnymineh. Am poopie babbeh naow! Su fat BAD babbeh nu nee’ kibbews!” Cinnamummah always told her with a look of pure scorn on her features. After gobbling up the kibble she would dunk her face into a pail of spaghetti and dig down with such force that strands of noodles and splotches of sauce flew everywhere.
“Buh…am Cinnymineh, am jus’ wike mummah.” The little foal said with tears in her eyes, standing up to do a little dance. FluffTV was always on in the little saferoom and she often got to see her mother on it. It was most of the interaction she had during the day. All of the babbehs on the TV made Cinnamummah smile and coo when they gave dancies. Wiggling back and fourth on her hooves and trying her best to give a look of pure love only received a scathing knock with one hoof, sending the foal down with a frightened squeal.
“Bad babbeh nu haf name! Am onwy poopies naow!” Hovering a hoof over Cinnamini would cause her to rapidly agree: “Am onwy poopies! Su su bad babbeh! Bad babbeh!” She didn’t want to disagree and become like Ziggy.
So this continued on for days and became worse and worse. Where did bad poopies sleep? In the litterbox. Did bad poopies get to watch TV? No, it was turned off during the day.
The hunger was becoming worse and worse. Cinnamini ate anything she could: Crumbs of spaghetti that came flying around when her mother was on her feeding rampages, whatever bug came crawling around the room, and yes even poop. She ate the poop because…she was a poopie babbeh now. It didn’t taste good and sure didn’t smell good but that’s all she had. Yet even that didn’t stop the no-good feelings from leaving her tummy.
Cinnamini spent most of her days curled up in the litterbox now. When she heard staff approaching she would weakly get up to pull herself to a hiding spot. No matter how bad it hurt, she had to. She watched from the dark crevice under furniture how her mummah got all sorts of new things. Lots of attention, nummies, new stuffy-friends. The show staff even left appropriately sized toys for Cinnamini too but…
“Wub nyu fwend.” Cinnamini said after the food had been left and the litter cleaned. She didn’t dare bother the starlet when she was feeding but she thought it wouldn’t be a problem if she hugged and chirped against a small stuffed bear that had been left for her. It reminded her of Lacy, of Ziggy, and maybe even Boco too though the memory of the first brother lost was becoming a hazy by-gone in her still developing brain. They always gave her hugs. They loved their sissy very much. Even the pillow who hadn’t been her real mom. She missed them so badly and the thought of all the hugs being given to her stuffy-friend made her feel slightly better.
“Bad poopie have toysie? Hmph!” Cinnamummah declared upon seeing this, marching over to yank the stuffy from her mouth. Stomping one foot down on it, she tore and ripped at it until there was a small cloud of cotton floating in the air. Cinnamini couldn’t do anything but cry, and even that was becoming harder to do. She slumped back to the litterbox and collapsed in it, waiting for night to turn to day.
Eventually the staff began to forget Cinnamini even existed. She didn’t make a peep. They never actually saw her. Food was left and eaten and that was good enough for them. They never realized that the foal had become a walking skeleton. Fur stretched tautly over a still shambling carcass. Her hair had already fallen out in great patches and her eyes bulged out from the skull. No matter how many poopies she ate, she never had the pain go away. One day she laid down in the litterbox and couldn’t even move as her mummah covered her in shit, the mare either not seeing (or more likely not caring) that she was doing so. It was just another poopie in the box after all. It was the first warmth the foal had felt in a month or so and the last. The weight of the shit finally made her tiny malnourished heart give, and that was that. There was barely anything left of her. The people throwing away the litter would never even realize there was a corpse in there, because why would they be sifting through shit?
Day after day Cinnamini’s kibble bowl was brought and emptied so people assumed things were as they always were. The only one that knew she was gone didn’t care.
Not the mini!