A little short. But oh well. Hope you fucks enjoy strawberries last chirps.
Your namesie is Strawberry! Atleast that’s what everyone called you. You’re a pretty pink Wingie babbeh. You’re pretty proud of your Wingies despite them not being very big. You were suuuu happy. You had mummah an Daddeh an bwuddas! You also had a biiiig human Daddeh who gave you Huggies and head scratchies. He made sure mummah always had plenty of Nummies to make bestest milkies.
That was… Until this bright time. You don’t know why but the mean lady that your human Daddeh calls special friend stole you. She put you in a dark sorry boxie and gave you to a scary man.
You want mummah. You wan milkies. Oh you wish you could say something but all that ever comes out is
“Peep pee chirp squeak!”
“Yes yes keep chirping little faggot. You’re gonna make daddy Bruno a lot of money.”
He says. You don’t quite know what faggot means but something in you tells you it’s a bad word
You cry into your hoofsies. To make it worse you’ve already burned through half of the milky thing that the mean lady gave you. It’s not nearly as good as mummahs milkies but you guess they’ll do.
You … You couldn’t imagine what’s about to happen to you.
You get back to your house. A normal looking white two story house in the suburbs. Gotta keep up appearances.
Most of your dirty work takes place in your basement but you have a special room made just for situations like this. Ya see with SBS foals there’s only one market. No one wants a foals limbs. Especially not a defective foals limbs. No. SBS foals are good for one thing, you’re gonna film it.
Opening the door to a closet in your house you push the clothes all neatly on hangers to the side revealing a small wooden door. You open it and walk in. Being sure to close the closet door behind you. You know if the police ever found this part of your House they’d probably think you were some kind of fuckin pedo. They’d never believe it was for making fluffy snuff films.
Finally the man sits the sorry boxie down and lets you out. All around you you see… Paradise.
The floor is green like grassies. The walls are blue with white clouds painted on. Stuffy friends and toysies line the walls. You can even hear pretty music. You’d know it anywhere. While it wasn’t a your mummah singing you can recognize the tune as a mummah song.
Then the heavenly scent wafted into your nostrils.
MILKIES!
“PEEP CHEEP!”
You follow the smell to one corner of the room.
In front of you sits… Well sits something. It sort of looks like a fluffy but it’s wrong. No leggies. No see pwaces. Only a big metal mask with a tube going to its face. Maybe it’s just a stuffy friend that looks like a fluffy. It shudders as you give it Huggies.
Finally you realize it has milky places.
Without hesitation you greedily gulp down the sweet creamy ambrosia.
“Alright retard! Say hello to the camera!”
You hear the man say.
You finish preparing the camera. You unfold the clean plastic table and lay out your tools. You turn on your spotlights and place your microphone on the table.
You’re ready. The little shithead has already started gorging itself on your milk bags tits. Good.
You prepare your first act as you fill a medicine syringe with syrup of ipecac.
You put on a balaclava and turn on the camera.
“Hey there you sick bastards! Welcome to the sorry room. Today I have a treat!”
You say with glee and point the camera towards strawberry zooming in.
“That’s right. An honest to God Sensitive Baby Syndrome foal. Look at lard ass. She ran straight to the milk bag as soon as she came in.”
You say as she suckles intently.
“Did you fuckers know that only thirty percent of all SBS foals are female? So not only do we have a rare treat, but a double rare treat.”
You walk over and pick the foal up. It squirms and chirps rapidly as you carry it. You sit it on the table and start gently scratching its head. It calms down.
“Daww ain’t that cute? I’m willing to bet up till today this foal has lived a life of luxury. Eating most of its mothers milk. Getting cleaned and pampered. I bet she even licked it’s asshole clean for it… Well that all ends today folks!”
You say grabbing the syringe in your other hand and forcing it into the foals mouth. Immediately shattering your ruse of comfort. Its eyes grow wide as it tries to scream. With no teeth to block it the plastic nozzle of the syringe goes right in. You unload all the ipecac into her gullet. When you remove the syringe she gags then screeches. Her legs and wings flailing wildly.
“CHEEP CHEEP CHEEHEEHEEHEE-BLECH!!!”
Out comes all the sweet milkies she just drank.
“Kaff huff pee-BLUUUUURG!”
And again. And again. And again.
Until she must have been empty. She lay in the puddle of brown and white vomit. Desperately trying to breath. Her nose still dripping as it sprayed out of both orifices.
“Oopsies! Look who made a mess! Cleanup time!”
You say cheerily as you use her like a rag to wipe the milk away.
“Well look at you. Done got yourself dirty. Ain’t that cuuuute… BUT IT’S WRONG!”
You say before dropping her into a bowl of ice water.
She immediately panics and flails trying to get out. Chirping the entire time. You push her head under just for a second.
“KAFF KAFF PEEBEEHEEEP!!!”
Back under.
“GASP GASP CHIRP CHIRP WAAAAHAAAHAAAAA!!”
You continue this three more times.
Finally you decide to stop. You don’t want the video to end this quickly.
“All nice and clean. Let’s dry you off lil faggot.”
You turn on a hairdryer. The noise makes the foal piss itself and try to run. It’s no use. It has no way to free itself from your grasp. You hold the hairdryer uncomfortably close to the foals tender skin. Watching as it screams in fear and pain.
Finally it’s sufficiently dry. You decide it’s time to get real.
“I think it’s time to give da widdwe babbeh a metal sweater!”
You say as you put her a a metal clamp making sure she’s secured in place. You then shows the camera two pieces of fishing line with small fish hooks tied to the ends.
“Some folk use worms to fish. Some use minnows. Me? I use fresh foal vagina!”
Without hesitation you pierce one of strawberries underdeveloped pussy lips with the hook. Shoving it completely through.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEHEEEHEEEEE!!! CHEEHEE CHEEHEEHEEP!!! WHAAAHAAHAAHAA SCREEEEEEE!”
She screams.
You do the same to the other lip.
“Now this is what I call a pro abuser move.”
You say before pulling each string. You start off gently, but pulls harder and harder until skin tears and blood starts to trickle from the top and bottom of the poor fillies genitalia.
She’s still screeching in agony.
You then take both strings and ties them tightly together under the table. Holding her open.
“Aww listen to that? She’s cooing! Does widdwe babbeh wan a Speciaw fwen!?!”
You say mockingly.
“I call him Mr.pokey.”
You say before holding up your instrument of torture towards the camera. A stick with a thin cactus duct taped securely to the end. Despite it’s small girth the cactus is completely covered in thin and sharp barbs.
“Mr. Pokey just hates condoms. He’s going in raw!”
You bring the camera closer to put the foals rancid goonch on full display. More scaredy piss dropping down. You start a second camera recording the foals face.
Then it happens.
You insert the cactus then rapidly pull it back out.
It’s bare. All the quills stayed inside the foal.
It goes quiet. It opens it’s mouth, its eyes almost bug out of it’s skull, it starts rapidly flailing it’s back legs.
“…hhhhhHHHHHHCHREEEEEEEEEEEEK! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEE! PEEP! PEEP! PEEP! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! UUUUUUUUMUUUUUUUUH!”
It yells. Almost squeaking out the word it’s trying to say.
“Damn are you folks hearing this? That hurt so bad I almost made it normal! Almost anyways. Oh wait! Can’t forget the widdwe Wingies!”
You say before ripping the foals two wings off. Completely severing them from her spine with a loud SNAP
" I guess I can’t really top that one. I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave her here so you bastards can watch her slowly bleed out. Goodnight fuckers!"
You say walking out of camera. You take one last look at the screaming hyperventilating foal. Blood oozes out of her destroyed goonch.
It’s not often you get to truly admire your handiwork. You’ve had that desk cactus for months. You decide to get some lunch and leave little faggot to her fate.
Hurties…hurties . … . Hurties… Stop … Please… Stop… Mummah… mummah why didn’t you help?.. Big Daddeh?.. Real Daddeh?.. You abandoned me… I’m your precious babbeh filly… You abandoned me… Peep… Chirp… Peep.
In your final moments even your thoughts degrade to random chirps and peeps. The hurties stop as your consciousness recedes further into your mind.
“Mummah wub babbeh. Babbeh wub mummah.”
You hear in your thinky place. Before you hear nothing ever again.
