Frosting and Steve: Sensitib tummies. prologue. (by no_sketti_on_tuesdays)

Here ya go folks. Figured I’d cash in on the SBS renaissance. Enjoy.


Your name is Tard. You don’t really know what it means but your Daddeh said it’s veeery special.
You’re a big yellow babbeh. Your mummahs Speciaw sensitib babbeh. That means you get to stay with Mummah forever. Unlike your dummeh bwuddas an Sissies. They all had to leave with dummeh hooman mummahs an daddehs because they weren’t Speciaw enough. Mummah has had many litters of foals since you were born. You love when she’s a soon mummah because you get fresh miwkies and don’t have to live off of the icky bottle miwkies that Daddeh gives you.

“Tard. Quit drinking all the foals milk!”
Daddeh yells. You hate it when Daddeh yells. You always make scaredy peepees. Mummah always comes to your aid though.
“Is Otay Daddeh! Babbehs am stiww jus chiwpies. Mummah haf nuff miwkies foh nyu babbehs AN sensitib babbeh.”
Daddeh usually rolls his see places and leaves after that but today he kept talking.
“Jilly he’s not a baby anymore. He’s just as grown as you. A grown fluffy should NOT be sucking milkies from your tits. I let him stay because he makes you happy, BUT if he starts getting in the way of your foal production I’m gonna have to step in. Your foals are what keep our lights on.”

Dummeh Daddeh always goes on about how you’re not a babbeh. But if that were true you’d have teefies and a pretty mane. You’d be a talky babbeh and not have to dwinkie miwkies. Dummeh Daddeh must not know what babbehs are. You’re just a bit bigger than the other babbehs is all.

“Dun wowwy Daddeh. Jiwwy take gud cawe ob aww babbehs. Jus becuz jiwwy wub sensitib babbeh a wot do not mean Jiwwy nu wub widdwe babbehs tu.”
Mummah says.
“Well make sure it stays that way. If I see just one foal underfed because Tard here drained your tits I’m going to be very angry.”
Daddeh says before walking away. Finally. You push your tiny bwudda off of mummahs miwkie pwace.
“CHEEP PEEP! Miwkies! Nee moh miwkies! Buuhuuhuu!”
He says as you begin suckling on your mummahs miwkie place.

Gasp babbeh make first wowdies! Babbeh am tawkie babbeh nao!”
You could care less. Just because the other babbehs make tawkies before you doesn’t mean they’re any better.
“Foh dat we cewebwate! Widdwe babbeh get moh miwkies!”
Your mummah pushes you away and places your bwudda back on.
“CHEEP CHEEP CHIRP!”
You squeel trying to get back to your beloved miwkies.
“Nu sensitib babbeh. Ou knu dat wuwes! Tawkeh babbehs get moh miwkies den chiwpy babbehs. Dey gwowin!”

You don’t care. You’re hungry. With your hoofsie you smack the dummeh talky babbeh out of the way.
“SCREEE! HUWTIES!”
It yells.
“BABBEH! BABBEHS NU FOH HUWTIES!”
Before you can suckle more your mummah stands up and trots towards your bwudda. You will not be denied so easily. You walk behind your mummah and suckle her miwkie place as it hangs.
“Ugh. Otay. Dwink miwkies my sensitib babbeh. Den bwudda can dwinkie.”
Finally mummah used her thinky place. Silly mummah trying to deny you your precious miwkies. How could she? You’re just a widdwe babbeh.


You’re name is Larry. You’re a 35 year old man who lives with his wife in a small farm town.
About a year ago your wife convinced you to get one of those fluffy things. Honestly you think they’re creepy but it made your wife happy. It was kind of like having a forever kid around.

Then you realized real fast that your fluffy was a gold mine. Against your better judgement you decided to let her have foals. Her foals were all top tier. Patterns, different colors, genuine cutie marks. Even the duller colored ones had a flare to them. You started making enough off of the foals you were able to quit working full time. While you maintained the disciplinary methods advised by the fluffy shelter you made sure she was well taken care of. She was a good fluffy. In human terms she’d give you the shirt… Or well… Fluff off her back. You’ve never seen her choose a bestest, or abuse one of the more unattractive colored foals.

Things went great… Until about three months ago.
I knew this foal was different from the minute it came out. Even before they could talk she seemed to coddle this one more. At first it wasn’t a big deal. It was like all of her other tiny foals. It chirped and begged her for food all day. You didn’t notice anything strange until the other foals started opening their eyes.
All four of the other foals opened their eyes and were saying their first words within hours of each other, but this one … Well he just kind of layed there chirping.
“Das Otay babbeh. Ou open see pwaces wen ou am weady. Mummah wub babbehs!”

She says bringing him to her nipple to feed while the others look around amazed at their new world.
Days came and days went. The other foals were getting stronger and growing at the standard rate. This one was just now finally opening its eyes.
“Babbeh! Babbeh finawy open see pwaces! Huuhuu mummah suuu pwoud ob babbeh! Ou Gon say fiwsties wowd babbeh? Cum on! Say mummah!”
The foal looked at her.
“… Peep peep chirp!”
She looked a bit disappointed at that one. Time kept passing. After a week of opening their eyes the foals started growing their manes and teeth.

You started the weaning process by along with their mothers milk you give them solid food softened with some of Jillies milk pumped from her breasts. A practice you’ve used since you started breeding Jilly. She tried to get the yellow foal with no mane to try a bite. It did so hesitantly. No sooner than it swallowed the piece of mush it puked it right back up.
“CHIIIIRP! CHEEP PEEP!”
It sounded like a canary if one could cry.
“Dewe dewe wittwe babbeh. Ou nu haf ta Nummie da kibbwe. Ou can hab miwkies. Ou mummahs widdwe sensitib babbeh.”
You think that’s the first time she referred to it as sensitive but you aren’t sure. You decide that something isn’t right and take it to the vet.

A week and a half later and the day of his vet appointment is here.
You try to take him but Jilly keeps the fluffy equivalent of a death grip on it.
“Pweeaaase nu take sensitib babbeh! Babbeh nee mummah!”
You finally decide to just take both of them. You leave your wife to watch over the foals and head off to the vet.

“Sensitive baby syndrome?”
You ask the veterinarian.
“That’s right Mr.Holtzappel. it’s a condition that basically renders a foal unable to mature. It’ll grow to a full size fluffy but if you haven’t noticed it has no teeth or mane. It’s testicles are still tiny. They should be atleast double that size by now. A fluffy stallion his age should be just on the edge of the start of fluffy puberty, but he’s no where near that point. I’d be willing to bet his testosterone levels are almost non-existent.”

“So what do I do doc?”
You ask.
“Well. There are a couple options. You could keep him but unless you’re willing to buy formula for him he’ll starve once his mother stops producing milk. No one will want to buy him because it’s twice as expensive as regular old fluffy kibble. Though I’m against it we could save the mother some heartache and put him down here. We can tell her we took him to skettiland.”
You think on it for a moment. You don’t wanna kill the poor thing.

But can you afford to buy that much foal formula?
You do breed Jilly a lot. You’d only have to buy foal formula when she wasn’t pregnant which won’t be often. You decide to keep him. After all it made Jilly happy…

That was three months ago. He was now a Grown fluffy. At first you were gonna name him Dandelion but with all the screeching you decided to name him Tard. Much to your wife’s disapproval.
It’s not like the Fluffies knew what it meant. The fucker still can’t even go to the litterbox by himself. He screams until his mother essentially drags him there. You thought about diapers but then realized you didn’t care enough about the little shit. You just forced Jilly to keep him in the safe room. Honestly you and your wife are both sick of Tard. You’re looking for absolutely any reason to get rid of him.

“DADDEH DADDEH HEWP!”
You hear. You look down and see Smelly Joe. A little white and black spotted pegasus foal.
“What’s going on Smelly?”
You ask.
“MUMMAH NEE HEWP DADDEH! SMEWWY JOE NEE DADDEH TA SAB MUMMAH HUUHUUHUU!”


After drinking fresh warm miwkies while mummah was standing there she kicks you away.
“Sowwy babbeh. Mummah nee aww da miwkies das weft foh udda smaww babbehs. Ou can hab moh miwkies watew.”
She says walking towards your dummeh small bwuddas an Sissies.

You’re not full yet. You know she has enough miwkies. She always does. Dummeh bwuddas an sissies can Nummie da icky bottle miwkies. Mummahs miwkies are YOURS! Whether she knows it or not.

She sits down to feed your siblings. In a fit of anger you let out a
“CHEEEEP!!!”
And rush towards mummah. She puts her hoofsies over her face to protect herself. You don’t care about her face. You want MIWKIES!
After tackling her over and swatting away your siblings you turn around still remaining on top of her. Using your muscle weight (aka Obese Lard his mom called muscle) you pin her down and start suckling.

You hear one of your bwuddas run off.
“DADDEH DADDEH HEEEEWP!”
You don’t care. Dummeh Daddeh would NEVER think of punishing you. After all. You’re just a widdwe babbeh.

“PWEASE BABBEH PWEASE GET OFF MUMMAH! CAN NU BWEAFIES!”
You don’t care. Dummeh mummah is trying to deny you your precious miwkies for the dummeh babbehs. All she deserves is sorry poopies! With your anus already above her face you send lose your torrent of liquid poopies. Serves her right. Suddenly you feel something grab you and give you bad upsies.


As you walk into the room you see that lard ass on top of Jilly. Pinning her down as he sucks on her tits. She’s yelling at him desperately to get off. You see the other three foals trying to comfort one with a scrape on its hoof. Obviously from tard smacking it off.

“PWEASE BABBEH PWEASE! GET OFF MUMMAH! CAN NU BWEAFIES!”
Jilly yells. Suddenly the little bastard let’s lose a putrid stream of liquid excrement into Jillies face. You can hear her choking on it. That’s it.

You walk over and jerk Tard off of Jilly.
“JANET COME QUICK!”
You quickly explain what happened to your wife. Her face turns beet red from anger.
She immediately flips Jilly over and starts making her cough to clear out her airways. Finally she talks.
Haff h-HEWP! MUNSTAH BABBEH! HEWP!”

Janet takes Jilly to the bathroom to wash her up. You love Jilly as a pet but Janet treats her like she’s your child. You know Janet’s angry.
Tard chirps loudly as you hold him by the scruff of his neck.
“Yeah not used to that huh ya little shitrat? Fuck you. I’ve been waiting for a reason to get rid of you for a loooong time.”

Tard starts aggressively cheeping at you. You know in whatever retarded language he speaks he’s cussing you out. Fuck it. You take your first and bop Tard right on his snout. Not really a full on punch but enough to make his nose bleed. His chirps get less aggressive and more frantic. You put him in your pet carrier and let him sit there.

With him immobile for the time being you go and check on Jilly in the bathroom. She’s sobbing in the tub as Janet bathed her.
“There there girl. He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”
Janet says.
“Buuhuuhuu! Why sensitib babbeh gib mummah huwties? Mummah onwy gib sensitib babbeh WUB! HUUHUU!”
She’s rattled. Her precious lard ass turned on her. After she’s dried off you bring her out to Tard. He immediately rushed the front of the cage chirping. Desperately trying to get to his mother.

“Well Jilly. What do you want to do?”
You ask.
“Nu wan munstah babbeh nu moh! He HUWT MUMMAH! HE HUWT BWUDDA! HE MUNSTAH! MUMMAH HATECHU! HATECHU! BUUHUUHUUHUU!”
You can tell she’s probably wanted to say that for a while.
“Whelp that settles that. Come on Tard. We’re taking a trip.”


You don’t know what’s happening. All you wanted was your miwkies. Then Daddeh gave you worstest upsies. Then gave sorry hoofsies to your smell place. It still hurts. It’s covered in dry booboo juice.

You tried to get mummah to get you out of the sorry boxie but all she did was say meanie words to you. What’s going on? You’re only a widdwe babbeh? You don’t deserve this. Daddeh took you on a ride in his metah munstah for a long time. Finally he let you out. The place was pretty with lots of trees. A you were watching the birdies you hear a loud “VROOM”

Daddeh was gone. Mummah was gone. They left you here all by yourself. You’ve never been by yourself. You’re just a babbeh huuhuu! Why couldn’t they see that? You deserve Huggies and love! You deserve miwkies! You miss miwkies. You miss mummah. With nothing else to do you trudge into the woods. The ground is nothing like the soft carpet of your safe room. You miss your safe room. It was nice and warm. Not the bad heat that gives you Burnie hurties.

Suddenly you hear a twig snap. You look around and see it. A giant munstah covered in grassies. You let out a loud chirp before running straight into a stump knocking yourself out. The last thing you hear before passing out is.
“Damn I’ve never seen a foal this FAT!”

Last Mossy Adventure

43 Likes

a prologue, how many parts this story would have ?

1 Like

To hell with Tard. May he suffer horribly like the disgusting shit nugget he is.

5 Likes

I don’t know. Probably 2 or 3. No more than that.

Holy shit, a fantastic start. Two things I noticed/liked. One, I like that Jilly is a good mummuh! Sure, she spoils Tard, but it feels more like out of obligation then anything, though she does still love him until he snapped. Not only that, she still loves ALL her babies as well. She also knows when enough is enough. She’s a well written and well rounded mare and I hope she lives a full long life!

Second, this makes me hate SBS foals even more. I understand it depends on canon to canon, but this shows that while they can’t speak and are even DUMBER then the usual fluffy, they still are sentient and know what’s going on. Tard is just a greedy, violent, and selfish fuck and I can’t WAIT to see him get his.

7 Likes

Hes like a leech, a chirpy chonky ass leech, lets see see how he finds the ferals outside, wilderness ferals in paticuler are tough mfers they wont take lightly to milky thieves or fluffs who wont pull their weight. some monster of a toughie is gonna use him as a stress ball if he trys anything.

4 Likes

Classic chicken tendies esque story. :slight_smile:

Totally picturing this foal with a neckbeard pattern.

3 Likes

After I finished I realized I made an incel fluffy. Except with milkies instead of sex.

5 Likes

I think it’s more akin to the ‘good boy points’ meme stories that usually involve an adult son and a single mother ; if only cause this dude has zero sex drive due to improper development.

Could probably find some decent greentexts.

1 Like

Tard watches Andrew Tate constantly

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Da weason OU nu hab Speciaw fwen am not cuz OU am smewwy dummeh who nu take baffies eba an Neba weev ou safe woom. It am cuz OU am sub 8 stawion who nu hab gud chinny. Wemembah sigma stawions. Dew am nuffin ewse ta wife besides Speciaw Huggies. Dey aww mawes am good foh! ~ Tards favorite YouTuber.

4 Likes

Tard attempts to free “Andwew Tade” and ends up being stomped to death by romanian police

1 Like

The way I see it is.
Sensitib babbehs are NOT bestest babbehs.

Mummahs pamper bestest babbehs because they think they deserve it.

Mummahs pamper Sensitib babbehs because they think they HAVE to.

2 Likes

Welp, there u go Tards… enjoy you short life!

Reread this and this is still such a great story. Tard is such a destestable fuck

Is Tard in other stories?

1 Like

I mean. The other parts to this ye. But other than that nah he dead. Lol

2 Likes