Part 3: Operation Flex Seal Foal
David set the cutter around Little Faggot’s left wing. “I suppose, given you name, this counts as a hate crime?” He mused, smirking. “I DO hate you, after all!”
“WAI!?!?!?” the mare screamed.
The man paused. “Why what, you bleating pest?”
“Wai huwt babbeh? Wai hate fwuffies? Wai be nice to not-bestest? Wai take babbeh’s pwetty fwuff and make sickies and give owies?” She said, crying.
He thought about that for a moment.
“I was bored, and he was on a discount. And I fucking hate bestests and bitch-mares.”
“Fwuffy no undastand! Pwease gib babbeh back to mummah!”
“Still making demands. For the last time….” David clamped down with the cutters.
“SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! EEEEP EEEEP CHIIIIIRP!!!” Little Faggot squealed, flailing his little legs in agony as the dull blade crushed flesh and bone, rather than cutting it. The bone broke, the flesh bruised but didn’t give way. Not yet.
“You’re never getting him back!”
David twisted, sawing at the skin, tearing it, and ripping the wing free.
“EEEEE! EEEEE! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
David burned the stump, stopping the bleeding. Little Faggot was a crying, twitching blob of flesh. Where once was a wing, now was a burned patch of raw, bruised, torn flesh.
He grabbed the foal and straightened him out. “Ah ah. Not done yet, you little fuck.” He said, clicking the cutters in front of the little creature’s face. Somewhere, deep in it’s coddled, undeveloped mind, there was a recognition. Fear. Pain. That his other wing would soon be gone.
— — — —
You are Little Faggot.
The monster. That’s what this is, not a human, not daddy, not a mister. A monster. He took your wing, he gave you burns, he took your fluff. He was looking at you now, holding you much too high up.
And you knew he was going to hurt you more.
— — — —
The cutters closed around the right wing. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
The process was repeated, and the wing was torn off, the wound burned shut. David took the wings, and threw them at the mare. “There, all you’re getting of him.”
She stared, apparently in shock. “B-Babbeh wingies……” She muttered. “Yep.”
“B-….but babbeh NEED wingies……” she said.
“Not for long he won’t. By the way….did you know fluffies that die while not being hugged don’t go to Skettiland?"
“…Huh?”
“Yeah. Instead they go to Hurtieland. They feel the most horrible pain, forever, and never get huggies or love again. Only pain, and they have to eat poop and pee forever. It’s the worst thing you can think of.”
“Pwease…….no……”
“Oh yes. You’re not going to hug him while he dies. He’s going to hurtieland. Just think of it. Forever.” He said, holding a choking, shaved foal by the scruff. “Kaff….Kaff!”
“PWEASE WET MOMMAH HUGGIES BABBEH! NO WANT BABBEH TO GO TO HUWTIEWAND!!!”
“Nah. Fuck you. I’m gonna burn one of his eyes out.”
“BABBEH NEED SEE-PWACES!!!”
“You’re up next, bitch, don’t test me.”
David heated up a soldering iron, humming cheerfully. “You know I always wanted to see what one of these to the eye would do to something. Well besides the obvious of hurting like all hell, I mean.”
When the iron was as hot as it was going to get, he lifted Little Faggot, and held open the tormented foal’s left eye. David brought it close, then pulled it away several times. The foal was terrified of it, his tiny, underdeveloped brain could feel the searing heat coming off of it.
And then David jammed the soldering iron into his eye.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE! EEEEE E! EEEE !!! EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” Little Faggot flailed and screamed as the sharp metal tip of the iron punctured his eyeball, and the searing heat burned it. Vitreous humor boiled in the globe, the membrane containing it began to peel and slough off, blood and fluid leaking down the foal’s face. The tip of the iron struck the optic nerve, and Little Faggot seized, his screams going silent in his throat. The pain was too severe to make any noise, instead his body contorted, his face distorting in pure agony.
All the while, his mother sobbed, begging David to stop, to not kill her “bestest babbeh”.
The eyeball began to blacken and shrivel, moisture boiling out of it as the heat destroyed the eye. Finally, when he was sure no more damage could be done, David tore the soldering iron free, pulling part of the ruined, carbonized organ with it.
The tiny foal sobbed and shook, it’s body seizing and convulsing. David held the ruined foal just outside of his mother’s reach. “You’re a shit mother, you can’t even stop me from putting out your little retard foal’s eye. Don’t you love him? I thought you loved your “bestest.” he said, taunting her.
“Mummah wub babbeh……pwease no giv babbeh foweva sweepies……” She pleaded, reaching out for her foal. He was just out of her reach.
David yanked Little Faggot away from her, and tossed him back to the table. “I’m putting an end to this little shithead.” He said, getting a glass flask, and filling it with flex seal before setting it on a burner.
The mare looked at him in horror. The thick, black liquid was getting hot, bubbling, and making the most awful smell. David periodically held Little Faggot over the liquid, and forced the foal to inhale the acrid, toxic fume, laughing as he peeped and coughed.
David picked up the stir stick, and dropped Little Faggot into the boiling, thick, liquid rubber.
“PEEEEEEEEEEEEPCHIRPCHIRPCHRIPPEEEEEEGluuughacck!” The retarded foal screamed in agony, and inhaled a mouthful of boiling, tarry, liquid. He hacked and coughed up a mixture of blood and burning rubber, writhing in pain, his screams turning to struggling, crackling rasps.
“Now THAT’S a lotta damage!” David said, pushing him under with the paint stirrer. The mare could see her shaved, mutilated foal pressed against the glass of the beaker. His skin was burning and blistering, blood and chunks of burned flesh came from his mouth, his eye was boiling in it’s socket…. but with his last moments of sight, he looked at her.
The expression on his face was one of pure agony and betrayal. He’d never been able to speak, even if he had, he wouldn’t be able to now, with his lungs full of boiling liquid rubber.
But she knew what he’d have said if he could.
“Why didn’t you save me? I thought you loved me?”
The flex-seal, burning hot, flowed into his nose, his ears. His eardrums melted, the bones behind them were crushed and boiled, the delicate flesh burned to the nerves. He writhed in the thick, viscous liquid, moving out of her sight as David stirred him into it.
The death took about 10 seconds, but for Little Faggot, it felt like an eternity of burning, crushing pain and suffocation.
“NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! BESTEST SENITIBE BABBEH GO TO HUWTY WAND!!!” the mare wailed, crying her eyes out in abject despair. She’d failed as a momma. Her bestest was taken from her, horribly tortured, and then killed so that he’d go to hurty-land forever.
She was the worst momma ever……
