You open the fridge, there’s no more milk, so you grab the breast pump and the large sack of “feed”.
The milkroom is filled with 10 mares and their foals, the squeaky words and peeps make it impossible to pick out anything cohesive.
The last time you opened the door none of the foals were talkies, now at least is time for fun!
You look at each of the 10 mares, each tied to the left side wall while their foals play all over the room, a string of twine keeps each mare close to the wall, only allowing them up to the feeding tray and the poopbox in the middle of them,
You only need the milk for yourself so you normally only see them once a week, you spare a look at the almost full litterhole box and smile.
You notice the foals have started jumping on your feet while making upsies, you can’t really make out what they are saying but it’s obviously variations of “Be new daddy?” And “Give toys now!”, the mares seen to be trying to call their foals, to no avail.
“QUIET! GO TO YOUR MOTHERS NOW!”
They all start crying and screaming, some of them pooping and pissing as they bump into each other while looking for their mothers, it takes three minutes but they seen to be all in place, while they scrambled to their nests, you emptied the sack of it’s grass cuttings and expired oats inside the almost empty square food tray
The adult fluffies all cling to the corner, knowing what’s to come.
You get the ten old transparent bowls, the mares are too scared to even beg as you round up the foals, each litter trapped in front of their mothers, exept the ugly and the pretty, three brown and one puke green, and three good colored fluffies, two females one pure white pegasus and one earthy stripped in red and white with a blue mane, as well as a black male with a red mane.
The good fluffies are placed into a table much like a display case from a fluffymart, the poopies and the puke green you let fall in the litterhole to drown in shit.
You take the breast pump in one hand, hold a mare in the other and get to work.
“Nuh! Dat am babbeh and pwetty sibwins miwkies! Mummah, nuh wet munstah steaw babbeh miwkies!”
"Daddeh, pwese nuh wet munstah steaw mummah miwkies! Miwkies am fow babbeh!
“huuuuuuu meanie steaw mummah miwkies, nuh wike, nuh wike.”
“Why mummah wet munstah take miwkies? Nuh wuv babbies nuh mowe?”
“Dat am babbehs miwkies… nu wan tummie owchies.”
It takes not even a minute to extract about half a cup of fluffy milk from each teat in full view of the foals.
And so it repeats, until only the mare you left for last remains un-milked, a yellow one with a pink mane and eight foals, even without you taking any milk, this one should still have trouble feeding her foals, yet all of them seem to be more or less the same size, you take them to the table and tie the mare limbs to the nursing spot, tying her mouth shut to keep her from scaring the foals you selected for sale, her trapped foals crowding the small bowl before you place them all in foal carriers, their legs locked in place by the holes in each plastic tray.
You place the eight of them in front of their mother.
“Hey good babies! Come here!” You call out, the trapped foals attempt to move, only for their legs not to work, the three free foals all make it quickly.
“Daddeh, why fwiends weggies nuh wowk?”
“They are all bad babies, their mother said to me that she hates them, so I took their legs for being bad babies. Their mom here is going to be your new milk mother, she deserves pretty babies like you three, so go ahead and drink all her milk!”
“Buh dat nuh mummah! Gud babbeh nuh am miwkie thiebe! Nuh wan wose weggies wike bad babbies!” Says the white one.
“Don’t worry, daddy says you can drink it so you can. Remember, daddy is always right. And daddy says good babies get milk, and bad babies get nothing, here, girls go first.” You say as you push the two girlies to the waiting nipples.
"Otay daddeh!"They exclain before going to town on the squirming mare, you turn on the mummah song loop to cover up any groaning.
The pure white filly finishes drinking her fill before going to the immobilized foals “burp Nyw mummah has wots an wots of bestest miwkies, pwetty babbeh wuvs nyw mummah, buh bad babbies give gud mummah heawt owchies! Num poopies stupie babbies!”
You stop looking at the predictable scene as you lock a funnel in the gaps of the mother’s teeth, and drop some spaghetti flavored “Mummah’s Helper” feed in her mouth, she will now believe her foals are missing out on “bestest sketti milkies” (thankfully, the formula does not affect taste, only quantity), she will produce way more than just the three foals would ever be able to drink, leaving her breasts full and painful.
You take a photo of the good foals and post them on the internet for sale before going out of the room to drink your morning fluffy latte before another day of work.
…
You’re soooo hungry, you couldn’t have milk since the first milkies this bright time, you and your siblings had been playing with all the other foals in the saferoom before daddy appeared and put everyone in sorryboxes, you had watched as all the others had their milk stolen by the milk thief monster, you were relieved when it skipped your mother, but your fate was worse still.
“Pwease pwetty babbeh, nuh wan poopies, am gud babbeh!” You beg the filly in front of you, but she has no mercy for you.
“Wiah! Daddeh say yuh bad babbeh! Take bestest poopies!” Poop once more is sprayed on your once pretty and clean light pink fur, poop made from your own mother’s milk no less.
You watch as the milk thief goes back to your mothers engourged breasts, bigger than you’ve ever seen, drops falling from the red and swollen nipples, the smell making your thirsty mouth salivate constantly. “sniff Pwease mummah, babbeh sowwy fow be bad babbeh… pwease… nee miwkies… grrgl wowstest tummy huwties…peep.”
“Pwease weggies, wowk, nee weach mummah peep peep peep mummah pwease wub babbeh!” One of your brother begs, the others are barely even peeping oe chirping,only gazing silently at the spilled drops of milk with their tongues licking air.
The only other foal screaming is your other brother, as the black colt pulls at his tail.
“Come pway baww stuppy babbeh, gud babbeh wan pway baww! Othew gud babbehs onwy wan pway bwokies an huggies!”
"peep peep peep taiw huwties, owchies weggy owchies! Nuh huwt babbeh chirp chirp "
“Stuppy chirpie babbeh! Das why gud mummah hatchu! Dummy bad babbeh!” The mean foal says as he walks towards you mother’s dripping milk place.
…
After a another unproductive day of labwork, you finally get home, the first thing on your mind is the the delicious meal waiting for a quick preparation.
Some people don’t like eating fluffies, much less drinking their milk, a shame, fluffies taste like a bizarre combination of seafood and pig, while fluffy milk is incredibly fat and sugar rich, tasting more like cream than normal milk.
You put the rice cooker to work and go to the milk room with the breast pump again, the playing foals now scatter to their mothers immediately, allowing you to get to the table easily, the three pretty foals all greet you happily while full of milk, the trapped foals meanwhile are too weak to even chirp.
You put the pump to work, extracting almost twice the normal amount.
“Hey bad babbies, since your mother hates you and won’t give you milk, I’ll feed you myself.” They all raise their heads, revitalized by your words.
Of course, you’re not wasting the milk just like that.
…
You’re saved! Daddeh will give you and your brothers and sisters milk!
He takes you all through a weird place beyond the door, he gives you upsies and you feel something that makes your heart jump with joy!
“Daddeh give babbeh weggies back! Wuv yuh daddeh! Wuv yuh wuv yuh wuv yuh soo muchies!” You cry and try to hug his hand, but you feel something else, something not pleasant at all. “Nuuuuh! Wawa bad fow fwuffy!” The world turns upside down, you feel water on your backside and your daddeh touching your poopies place and no-noes. “screeeeee bad touchies bad touchies!”
Finally he let’s you out of the water, you see he is holding something in his hands that he places against you.
Buzzzzzzz
“eeeeeep Nuh wike scawy buzzy munstah! Daddeh save babbeh!” You can only watch as daddy holds you as the monster eats all your pretty pink fluff, it’s painful plucking touch leaving your delicate skin red as it rubs agains every corner of your body.
Once it is done, you cling to daddy’s hand for warmth, he covers you with a gentle hand before placing you in a sorry box, you were prepared to cry but he places a finger in your mouth, it smells like your mother’s milk! It even tastes like it, the drop of milk reinvigorates you once more.
“Just wait a moment and you will have more milk than you could even dream of.”
He promises as he leaves you there, some moments pass and one of your siblings is dropped there, fluffless just as you, and for him too daddy gives a drop of milk, you cuddle together to keep warm, is not long and another sibling, and another , and another, until you eight are there in the sorry box, but to the last foal, daddy does not give milk with his finger.
“Here comes the milk!”
And it does! So much of it you could swin in it! You just open your mouth and it fills with milk, you drink and drink and drink until your belly hurts!
…
You turn on the low head as soon as you finish pouring the milk, immediately going to get the carrot, garlic and onion.
You slice the vegetables into small cubes before dropping them in a large buttered skillet, stirring as you watch the once empty, now bloated foals play in the warming milk, just as the garlic and onion brown, so does the milk starts to steam while the foals scream and try to climb the saucepan, looking at you for help that will never come, you lower the heat on the skillet as you grap the salt and pepper, the foals are now fighting trying to climb each other to get out of the boiling milk, you put an end to it by stirring the milk, the foals now having their eyes and backs burned were once only their legs and bellies were hurt, you thrown the vegetables in the pan, almost burying the foals with them, you mix well, the pepper and salt causing them to cry and scream louder before you cover the pan.
They are no longer screaming as you put the foals in a separate plate from the rest of the food, with a butter knife you poke each of their bellies, the steaming guts exploding out before you scoop them away.
The springy and soft bones are like cartilage, the fatty meat tastes and feels like buttered lobster, the already creamy milk goes extremely well with plain white rice, trully a nice and economic plate.