Habanero breaks the golden rule…. (Part 3 of 5) (By KeyboardSlap)

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 Here

The cast:
Midnight - A young Earthy fluffy with sable fur and a purple mane, and dark blue eyes, raised by NARRATOR from birth.
Habanero - A young unicorn filly, orange-red with green mane and tail, polite but naive.
Pickles - An earthy colt, young and full of energy, with green fur and a blonde mane and tail. Fixed. It’s complicated.
Todd - Abuser who got tiktok/youtube famous for his fluffy torture videos.
Molly - Todd’s wife

It was late when I made it back home - almost 9 pm. I had Pickles in his carrier and he was wailing loudly. I reached my apartment, and when I came in, both Midnight and Habanero came to the bedroom doorway to greet me.

“Whewe speciaw fwen’?” Habanero asked “Speciaw Fwen nee’ huggies?”

I dropped Pickles’ crate and released him.

“Listen carefully. I have decided to let you keep your babies, but the rule is you must be a good momma, love all of your babies equally, and protect them from harm. If you fail to do this, I will take them away… and Pickles here can’t make any more. So whatever comes out, that’s what you get, got it?”

Habanero rushed over to Pickles as he stumbled out of his crate. “Mummah wub aww hew babbehs su much!”

“Even if they’re brown.”

She hesitated for a moment, but agreed. “Habanewo is gud mummah, wiww gib huggies and miwkies to aww babbehs eben dummeh poopeh babbehs.”

Midnight opened her mouth to speak but I held up my hand. “You get that one for free. But if you ever call them poopie babies again, I will rip out your eyes. Understand?”

She cowered and nodded wordlessly. “Scawy munstah Daddeh nu take see-pwaces, Habanewo nu call p- bwown babbehs poopeh babbehs, habanewo pwomise!”

Suddenly she pulled away from Pickles. “Eeep! Pickwes make bad peepees! Peepees gu in wittewbawks!”

“Pickwes nu mean tu!! huuhuuhuu Pickwes nu can make good peepees no moar, daddeh wet munstah take peepee pwace and wumps!”

I grabbed Pickles, and mopped up his urine with his own fluff. “No excuses.”

That night, Habanero slept in her closet nest with Pickles, and only Midnight slept on my bed. Normally, I slept with my back to her, but I rolled over and reached out, petting her.

“Are you ok Midnight?”

She nuzzled my hand. “Midnite su happy Pickwes come bac’… but Pickwes is bad fwuffy. Make Daddeh angwy and nu wisten to Midnite. Nao Pickwes had wowstes’ huwties. Is Midnite fauwt fow nu teaching gud.”

I pulled her into my arms like a teddy bear. “It’s not your fault. He’s just dumb. We’ll just have to try harder to teach him the right way, ok?”

“Ok Daddeh, Midnite twy hawdew tu teach dummeh.” She yawned and fell asleep on top of my arm.

Some time around 4 or 5 in the morning, I woke up to Pickles being kicked out of the nest for peeing on Habanero. He climbed into the bed and curled up in a ball, "huuhuu"ing the whole time. When I woke up properly, I noticed he had pissed on my bed.

I woke him up with a firm slap on the head. “BAD PICKLES!”

“Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Why gib owwies? Pickwes am gud fwuffy!”

I picked him up by the tail and dragged him to the tub, dropping him inside. “You peed on my bed! Bad boy!” I gave him a few whacks with a sorry stick and left him in the dark while I washed the sheets. I woke up Habanero, picking her up and taking her laundry nest, promising I’d make her a new one. She complained that she “Nu smeww pwetty huuhuu” because Pickles peed on her, but I promised I’d make it better when I was done the laundry.

I washed all the bedding and my clothes, and I washed a few towels I didn’t care about separately, using extra fabric softener and static sheets to make sure they smelled extra good to Habanero.

As I was waiting on the last load, I went in and checked on Pickles.

I decided it was time to erode his and Habanero’s relationship. Of course he soiled himself and smelled terribly, but I didn’t clean him. I used baby wipes to clean off any physical matter, but left his fur stinking of feces and urine, and I moved him to his crate and left him in the dark storage closet. The entire time he pleaded with me “Nu moar sowwy bawks, Pickwes pwomise tu be gud, Pickwes su sowwy pwease nu moar owwies!” but I ignored him.

With the bath free, I prepared the tub and took Midnight and Habanero inside.

Habanero protested. “Nuu! Nu wike baff! Wawa bad fow babbehs! Wawa bad fow fwuffies!! Nuuu!!”

I put midnight in first, and she cooed to Habanero. “Baff time nu scawy, baff time gud fow fwuffies! Daddeh make smeww suuu pwetty!! Habanewo wook, Midnite hab baff wif yu!”

Habanero calmed down, and actually began to enjoy herself when I massaged in the fluffy shampoo.

I didn’t use the regular stuff. Oh no. I had a premium, designer shampoo and conditioner for fluffies, and I had breeding pheromones made specifically to trigger breeding stallions into getting really horned up. I wanted the girls to smell absolutely heavenly… especially in contrast with the nasty smell of Pickles. Once I took the girls out of the tub, I wrapped them up to dry off on the bed, and I built Habanero a new nest in the closet with the fresh towels. I blow-dried their fur, brushed both of them, I even rubbed their snouts with lotion.

When I showed Habanero her new nest she almost cried from joy. “New nesties smeww su pwetty and su wawm!! Daddeh gib soon-mummah bestes’ nesties in da whowe wowwd! Habanewo wub Daddeh!”

I returned to the closet, released Pickles, and went to my desk. Midnight played with her blocks on my bed, Habanero sung the “Mummah wub babbehs” song aggravatingly loudly, and Pickles walked in, tears staining his fur.

I listened in as he approached the nest.

“Pickwes nee’ huggies, hab wowstes’ owwies an’ heawt huwties huuhuu”

“Nuu Pickwes nu smeww pwetty, pickwes smeww wike poopies!”

“Speciaw fwen smeww su gud… Pickwes wan huggies and wub pwease!”

“Nu! Gu away! Make nice nesties smeww yuckies! NUUU! NU TOUCH!”

Midnight jumped to attention. “Daddeh?” she called to me. But it wasn’t time to intervene yet.

“Why Speciaw fwen gib sowwy hoofies?” Pickles cried.

“Nu wan be speciaw fwen wif smewwy poopeh fwuffy!”

“Bu’ bu’ Pickwes wub yu! Nee’ huggies an’ wub an’ pway an’ speciaw huggies!”


“Nee’ speciaw huggies… nee’… Gib nao!”

Suddenly Habanero started freaking out. She “Screeeee’d” and screamed “NU WAN! NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU”

Midnight rushed down the stairs to the closet to investigate as Pickles shouted “WHY CAN NU GIB ENFIES? Huuhuuhuu…”

I started toward the closet and poked my head inside, shouting “WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE?”

Midnight had wrestled Pickles off of Habanero, whom he had been impotently dry-humping. Despite catching him off-guard and him being significantly younger, being a male she just couldn’t match his strength, and he quickly shoved her off and knocked her on her back. I then reached in and grabbed him, yanking him out of the closet.

“That’s it! BAD FLUFFY!”

I carried him to the tub once more and dumped him inside, this time from higher up. I wanted it to hurt. I left him there and went to check on Habanero and Midnight, who were cuddling together in the nest.

“Are you two ok?”

“Yes Daddeh” Midnight said as Habanero cried.

“Habanewo hab bigges’ scawdies!” Habanero whined. “Pickwes twy gib bad speciaw huggies… speciaw huggies bad fow tummeh babbehs… huuhuu.”

I looked at Midnight. “What do you think I should do?”

“Pickwes is bad fwuffy…”

I nodded. “Do you want him to go forever sleepies?”

Midnight shook her head. “Nuuu! Pickwes is dummeh bad fwuffy but nu wan tu hab huwties… Maybe Daddeh twy teach? Daddeh bestes’ Daddeh, can du anyfing, eben make dummeh into gud fwuffy… Nu huwties Pickwes…”

“Even though he hurt you, you still don’t want him to get hurt?”

“Daddeh pwotec’ Midnite! Pickwes nebew huwt Midnite wif bigges’ stwonges’ Daddeh hewe!”

“Ok girl.”

I went out to get what I needed for Pickles’ punishment. I drove to the store, and bought bags of ice. Those cheap bags made for coolers… I bought enough to fill my bathtub to the brim. I bought so many I needed to make three trips with a cart just to bring them back upstairs from my trunk.

I piled them up near the tub, and then I stood over Pickles. He looked up at me, confused, and pleaded with me, “Daddeh Pickwes sowwy pwease wet out of tub huuhuu”.

I plugged the drain, then I cut the first bag open and dumped it out over Pickles’ body. The ice cubes were like a hail of jagged rocks. He scree’d and cried “WOWSES’ HUWTIES! NUUUUU NU HUWT PICKWES SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

But I dumped the second bag… and then the third… by the fifth, he was shaking and saying “Pwease Daddeh Pickwes is su cowd! Pwease hewp!”

He tried to use the ice cubes as a ladder to climb up out of the tub, but I smacked him with a bag, breaking some of his teeth and knocking him back into the ice, and I cut the bag open and dumped it out on top of him. I buried him in ice, filling the tub near to the brim. He managed to dig his snout free, but the weight of the ice cubes meant his struggling just made him sink deeper. He could no longer talk, and resorted to whimpers and whines to communicate.

I turned the shower on as low-pressure as I could. I didn’t want the tub to fill up too quickly, I just wanted a gentle rain of freezing cold water to fill in the gaps between the ice cubes. And then I waited. Eventually his whining turned into labored breathing through chattering teeth.

According to some alleged doctors on reddit, the max amount of time it is safe for an adult human being to stay in an ice bath - with training - is 15 minutes.

I sat on the countertop and watched him struggle in the ice bath for an hour before I fished him out. His fluff was frozen solid, his eyes sealed shut, and he was barely breathing. If I tried to warm him up too fast, he’d die on the spot. I’d have to go slow.

First I used my razor to shave him bald. Then I wrapped him up in towels. I waited for twenty minutes or so, and then I began to rub his bald flesh with my hands, warming up his core slowly and steadily. I heated up some water in a bowl and forced him to drink it one sip at a time to warm up his insides.

Slowly, he began to regain his movement and his eyes opened once more. He tried to speak but found that he couldn’t.

I left him alone with warm water and some heated up wet food. There was a good chance he might still die, to be completely honest with myself.

I left him there all night, and when I went to have my morning pee, I could see him still shivering, burrowed in the towels.

He stood up when he saw me, and tried to run to me, but his legs were a little derpy. He seemed to be struggling to see as well. He wasn’t sure it was me until he got closer.

I decided to release him from the bathroom, but freedom was not as kind as he’d probably hoped. For starters, if he even came near Habanero’s nest, she screamed and Midnight chased him away. With his derpy legs, he wasn’t able to fight back anymore, and he tripped several times while running away. He also ran into the wall, which was incidentally hilarious.

Without his fluff, he was constantly chilled and uncomfortable and itchy, but the cold had seemingly damaged his fine motor control so he could not scratch himself, making him rub his bald body against the corners of different surfaces for relief until he would bleed.

Even Midnight, who is usually very accepting and loving, didn’t want to play with him, and said he was ugly without his fur.

I sacrificed a work day watching this pudgy cross between a mole rat, a pig, a horse, a manatee, and a mentally challenged pug, so I could punish him severely with the sorry stick every time he leaked pee - of course it was outside of his control, but I pretended to not understand that concept.

By the next day, after getting 12 consecutive beatings, he resigned to becoming a poopie dummeh and began living in the litter box.

On the Habanero front, Midnight had begun taking the role of the “Daddeh” of the relationship, bringing kibble to her nest. I could have moved her food bowl, seeing as how Habanero had entered the immobile stage, but Midnight liked to feel useful and she was proud of herself for helping.

Since she had stopped moving, I knew that meant foals would be here within 72 hours at the max, so I ran to the store and got some foal milk just in case. The morons at Hasbio designed these creatures to have litters as large as 10 but the mares themselves had only two teets and could maybe provide milk for three or four foals at most.

No wonder they ranked their babies.

The store had some pretty interesting products for foals - there was a nursing vest for mares who couldn’t lactate - it had reservoirs for milk and synthetic nipples. I had heard a rumor once of abusers using them by filling them with poison and strapping them to fluffy mothers. There was a round bed made in the shape of a fluffy, advertised as being made with “real fluff!” with multiple synthetic nipples, a heating pad and even a sound system to broadcast recordings of mares cooing and singing to their babies… I almost got the bed but when I googled it, there were videos of them catching fire. There was a feeder shaped like a fluffy plushy, I really liked that. But in the end I decided to get the vest, as it was the closest to replicating the real experience, and Midnight would probably get a kick out of it.

I also picked up some diapers for Pickles. As humiliating as it was to make him live in the litterbox, I figured he’d hate this just as much…

I came home and found him "huuhuu"ing in the litter box where I left him. I showed him the diapers and told him to come to me.

Sitting still for over 24 hours had not improved the condition of his legs. He stumbled and tripped twice crossing a distance of just a couple of feet.

“This is for you Pickles.”

“Wats dat Daddeh?” he asked.

“It’s a diaper that dummy fluffies who can’t use the litter box wear so they don’t have to be a poopy fluffy. From now on you pee and poop in the diaper.”

“Huuhuu Pickwes am dummeh nao?”


I put it on him, and his mood improved a bit as he realized the diaper enabled him to have some freedom… he had no idea how much he’d come to hate it though.

I also rubbed down Midnight with those breeding pheromones, making sure they were deeply absorbed in her fur.

She ran by him chasing her ball while he was scratching his back against the wall in the living room, and he burst into tears… moments later came the tantrum - “HUUHUU WAN WUMPS AN’ PEEPEE STICK BACK! NEE’ SPECIAW HUGGIES!”

Shortly after he began to rub his head with his hooves. “Pickwes hab head owwies! Pwease head nu mowe huwties! NUU MOWE HUWTIES! SCREEEE!”

Midnight drew closer to investigate his screaming and crying… which of course made things worse for him. her intoxicating scent filled his nose and made him desperate for release. He writhed painfully on the ground and then he climbed back to his feet and started running in circles, tripping several times, while screaming in pain. He ran to a stuffed animal and tried aggressively dry-humping it, biting it and stomping on it at the same time… screaming “NEE GUU” FEEWS!"

Unsatisfied, he decided to attack Midnight. He charged at her but he tripped and she “Scree’d” and ran away.

with no other options left to relieve his urges, he crawled to a wall and started bashing his head against it while sobbing and screaming, until he got a particularly good hit in, and became very dizzy and collapsed, shitting himself in the process.

“Huh,” I said aloud to myself. “And to think, I almost forgot about getting his dick amputated. I better call Todd and thank him.”

When Pickles came to, he realized his diaper was full… he crawled over to me as I sat at my desk working.

“Daddeh… Pickwes diapew nu smeww pwetty, Pickwes hab bad poopies…”

“It needs to be changed,” I said. “But I’m busy. I’ll do it later.”

20 minutes later he asked again - “Daddeh can change Pickwes diapew nao?”

“Not right now.”

And that continued to dinner time.

I fed the girls a mix of different mushrooms and root vegetables, but I gave Pickles something special… white rice, butter, cheese, and french fries I chopped into bits. All foods known to cause constipation in fluffies. I changed him finally after dinner, and provided him with a treat, but I wanted him to build up a little. Sure enough, he didn’t go to the bathroom again for the rest of the day and night.

I set a treat aside for Pickles, broke it up, and mixed in a bunch of laxative powder. And then I gave him the treat first thing in the morning.

I intended to wait to observe the fun effects of my little prank, but he was only just finishing the last chunk of his treat when I heard a loud “SCREEEEEEE!” from the closet.

Midnight rushed out and yelled “Daddeh hewp! Babbehs comin’!”

I told Pickles to stay away and opened the sliding closet door from the other end so I could sit right next to Habanero.

After several screams of “BIGGES’ POOPIES! SCREEEE!” and a lot of panting, one by one plump, squalling and chirping jellybeans slid from her womb.

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven! Seven foals, all alive, loudly chirping.

“Babbehs!” Habanero cooed, as she shuffled around to see them. “Mummah wub babbehs!”

She hovered over them one by one and licked them clean of afterbirth. As she did, I pulled Midnight aside and showed her the vest.

“Wats dat?” She asked, her head tilted.

“Habanero can’t feed seven foals, it’s too many. So I want you to help her. This vest will let you give the babies milk, understand?”

Midnight nodded.

As I put it on her, she whined a little. “Daddeh its su heaby!”

“I know girl, but you’re strong, so bear with it.”

Habanero finished licking her foals, and now clean of the afterbirth, the color in their very thin layer of fluff was apparent. There was a fire-red unicorn girl, an orange earthy boy, two yellow boys (one with a horn, one without), a green earthy girl like Pickles, a boy that was more of a brownish-green earthy, and a fully brown unicorn boy.

“These babbehs wook wike mummah! suuu pwetty!” Habanero said, drawing the red and the orange foals to her breasts. After they stopped, she gently moved them to the side and took the two yellow foals next. Only a few moments later she nudged them free, and they started to complain with chirps and whines, but she said “Sowwy babbehs mummah nu hab nu mowe miwkies…”

Midnight sat close, and reached for one of the foals, but Habanero screamed “NUUU! NU TOUCH BABBEHS!” and bit her, dropping the yellow earthy in the process.

I grabbed Habanero by the throat and shoved her against the back wall firmly.

“NO,” I growled. “You don’t produce enough to feed all of your babies, so you are going to let Midnight feed them too, and you are going to thank her for her help.”


I picked up the red one, clearly her favorite, and dangled him in front of her. “If you don’t let Midnight feed your other babies, they will starve. If you let even a single of these babies die -” I brought my face close enough that my nose was almost touching her snout - “I will kill all of them and throw you over the balcony.”


“Good mommas make sure all of their babies are fed. Even if that means letting Midnight touch them. If you hit Midnight again I’ll take your babies away from you for a whole day.”

Habanero relented.

I released her, and Midnight quietly took the brown and the green earthy to the vest, and when they finished eating, she brought them to Habanero, who kept glaring at her while singing to her foals.

Midnight fed the green unicorn, and made sure the yellow foals were full too, and Habanero piled all her babies up together and curled up around them, keeping them safe in her fluff.

In all the commotion I had forgotten about Pickles. So as I washed my hands, I was admittedly caught off guard when I heard him sobbing behind the couch. I quickly peaked over the arm of the couch, and there he was.

Evidently the laxative took effect…

The diaper was so full that he had blown out the sides, causing his waste to spill out all around his back legs. He was rolled on his back, trying to desperately gnaw the diaper off.

I went back to the bedroom, pretending I didn’t see. Then I called for Pickles. “Pickles, come see your babies!”

He came in quickly, and both Habanero and Midnight Scree’d. Habanero screamed “NUUUU STAY 'WAY DUMMEH POOPIE PICKWES! NU GET POOPIES ON BABBEHS!”

Midnight blocked his path. “Nu! Yu nu smeww pwetty, poopie smeww bad fow babbehs!”

“Huuhuu Pickwes nu can make gud poopies nu mowe, Pickwes twy but diapew munstah nu wet!”

“That’s enough!” I picked Pickles up, and the diaper finally gave way, falling off. I almost gagged, but I held my composure.

“Habanero, do you need him around your babies?”

“Nu! Nu wike dummeh Pickwes nu mowe, Pickwes poopie ugwy nu-fwuff fwuffy!”

“What should I do with him?”

“Gib fowevew sweepies!”

“Speciaw fwen nuuu!” Pickles cried, but Habanero simply glared at him.

“Midnight?” I asked.

She looked guilty. “Midnite nu wan Pickwes to hab huwties… but babbehs mowe impowtan’ an’ nee’ Habanewo an’ Midnite an’ Daddeh. Make Pickwes gu 'way Daddeh… huuhuu sowwy Pickwes.”

“Well, you heard them.”


I walked out on the balcony. There was a cool summer’s breeze that I could feel from my apartment on the 8th floor.

“I’m not gonna give you forever sleepies buddy,” I said to him finally.

“Weawwy?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I said. And then I tossed him over the balcony. “Gravity will though.”

He screeeeee’d the entire way down and landed with a satisfying thud. When I looked over the railing, I realized I had overshot my throw - there was a grassy ditch straight down, which I assumed he’d hit. But I guess I had arched the toss just enough that he landed on the sidewalk, just beyond the grass.

The concrete was not kind to Pickles. I thought I might feel some sense of guilt or shame in what I did - I thought that I did fail this colt, in a lot of ways. Maybe I could have prevented him from knocking up Habanero. Maybe I didn’t need to react the way I did to him attacking me in the field. Maybe I could have given him up for adoption.

But when I saw him on the sidewalk, all I really felt was relief. I had thought that all of my problems were a mangled mess of flesh 8 floors down.

I was wrong.

I really appreciate all the positive feedback from everyone. I heard the note about there not being enough abuse, I hope this part is a little more satisfying on that front. This story had kind of a slow boil, I know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea but it worked well for this one. Now that I’m done this part and I’m heading into the ending, I can say this will be a 4 part story + an epilogue.

This is part 3, posted 2024-05-13.


Está perfecta está historia


Man you got me hooked no. Can’t wait to see what’s in store for Habanero and her babies.

No wonder indeed.


This is misplaced right? It confused me a little


Yeah it’s a typo, I copy-pasted the end-card for formatting and accidentally copied the last line from part 2 T_T I can’t edit it out either, it’s been driving me nuts! I’ve been so triggered by it I’ve been struggling to write part 4 lol


Take your time, I want to see how habanero fucks up.


Now it’s time for Habanero to fuck up. She’s already being a bitch to Midnight. Can’t wait to see how it goes


Good riddance to that poopy diaper dummy. That said, as soon as Habanero bites Midnight for feeding foals, she’s in for a world of regret.


Man I feel bad for Pickles. He really didnt do nothing wrong. He was just trying to protect Habanero. Poor guy.


7 foals is too many, that is not easy to sustain, I imagine that if or if a group should die, no one earns enough money for so much food


So in the fluffy game, which is what inspired the original story, fluffies can birth up to 8 babies. In the game, without human intervention, it’s impossible to keep a litter alive, but even with a perfect birthing suite, with endless food and walls to prevent the mare or babies from accidentally wandering off, the mothers cannot care for more that 3 at a time without hitting the “Mummeh haf nu mowe miwkies huuhuu” loop so no matter what you do, most of the litter is starving to death.

I figured - that actually kinda made sense. Most canons show they are badly made, possess only two teets, and are invariably horrid at parenting. So it would make sense that while they can produce large litters, they cannot sustain them. So they pick their favorite babies, let the ones they don’t want starve, and move on. If Habanero were in the wild, she wouldn’t keep the greens or the brown. They’d be poopeh babbehs or nummie babbehs if she were starving.

But that’s all just my headcanon - I’ve seen headcanons where fluffies usually have 1-3 babies, that’s cool too, I don’t get hung up on the details, I just enjoy the stories.


I said it in the economic and care sense, and I don’t know how you manage your canon, but I imagine that it would not be easy to find a home for all of them, and a single person can afford to keep so many foals that it would not take long for them to become adults and whose care is very demanding?