NO MIWKIES
By FoalOut4
Carl is an abuser. He hasn’t gotten his fix in several months, due to having a live in hugboxer girlfriend during that period of time.
But things with her eventually went sour, and he’s back to being in a monogamous relationship with his right hand again.
And most importantly, free to torture helpless shit-pig-hamsters once again.
One day Carl drives his beat up pickup truck next to an alleyway on the other side of town, gets out, and ventures inside.
Soon he hears familiar rustling near some boxes, followed by a whispering of foal voices, chirping and peeping sounds, and a mare quietly hushing them.
Carl loudly proclaims to the alleyway that he is so lonely. That his special friend left him. That he wants huggies and love that only a fluffy could provide. That all he has wanted in his entire life was a fluffy family to hug, love, and feed sketties to in his warm house. He tears up and fakes crying at the end.
The ruse worked, and a blue pegasus mare quickly crawls out of her hiding place among the tattered boxes to greet him, with five foals squirming around on her fluff.
Some of the foals on her fluff are speaking words like “Nyu fwend?”, “Mummah, huggies!”, “Scawy!”, and “Babbeh scawed!” While one fat blob of a foal is just chirping and peeping away.
“Pwease nu cwy nice mistah! Fwuffy an babbehs wiww gif you huggies and wuv! Pwease be nyu daddeh fow mummah an babbehs?” The mare says.
The mare has five foals squirming in her fluff. A green earthy colt, an orange earthy colt, a brown unicorn filly, a red pegasus filly, and a fat as fuck purple pegasus colt.
Goddamn that foal is fat as fuck, at least twice the size of the other foals, with rolls of fat on it. The fatness on it seems to swallow at least half of its legs and tail.
The fat purple pegasus colt looks up at Carl, and bellows out a happy series of chirps and peeps, then slowly waddles over to its mother, and rapidly suckles from her crotch tits.
The other foals are chattering away, already talking. But the fat one is still chirping and peeping, must be retarded. They all look barely a week old at the most.
Carl reaches down, and plucks up the fat purple pegasus foal from its mother’s crotch tits.
The alarmed foal starts loudly squealing scardy chirps and peeps, pisses and shits itself in fear, and flails its legs wildly in all directions. Its eyes are watering and tears are pouring down its face, its incredibly frightened and in a panic.
“Daaaaamn, look at you! You’re too fat to breathe!”
The mare tears up and rushes up to Carl in great concern. She places her hoof on his knee, and pleads,
“Pwease nyu daddeh, gif back mummah’s wittew sensitibe babbeh! Dat babbeh am sensitibe! He nees tu be wif mummah, ou babbeh cwys! Dat gifs mummah tu many heawt huwties! Huuu Huuu!”
“Oh, okay. Sorry.”
Carl says as he places the fat fuck back down. The foal slowly waddles his fat self back over to his mummah, crying, making scardy chirps and peeps.
The mare happily coos at him to calm him down.
After everything calms down, Carl loads them all up into his beat up truck, and drives them home.
He introduces them to his makeshift saferoom. It has a makeshift fluffy bed, some expired fluffy kibble in an old bowl, an old fluffy water bottle, some old bargin bin dollar store fluffy toys, and a few hamster tubes on the ground. As well as a cheap ass litterbox.
The fluffies react as though they are living in a billion dollar mansion, thanking him over and over like they just won the fucking sweepstakes.
Carls lets them all settle in for several days until he figures out what horrible things he wants to do with them.
Carls watches the foals play with the cheap ass toys, watches them sleep, and nurse from their mother, especially the fat purple one who always feeds three times longer than the others. Carls confronts her about this.
“That baby is fat because you let him drink most of your milk! You’re spoiling him!”
The mummah replies “Dats otay, becuz dat am mummah’s wittew sensitibe babbeh!”
Retard.
The foals and the mummah have been doing a perfect job of pissing and shitting in the litterbox, so no punishment required there. Carl hopes one of them will slip up, especially the lard ass.
Every time the fat purple pegasus foal has to piss or take a shit, it bellows out a series of chirps and peeps to let its mummah know, and she picks it up and places it in the litterbox until its done.
She even sings a fucking litterbox song to it while it pisses and shits. The fat fuck smiles and makes happy chirps and peeps while she sings it to him. God, Carl wants to hurt it so bad!
One day, Carl hears the fat fuck loudly squealing scardy chirps and peeps, and its mummah and siblings babbling in hysterics! He rushes into the saferoom to find …
The fat fuck has gotten stuck in a hamster tube.
The fat purple pegasus foal is squirming its legs rapidly around in all directions trying to free itself from the tube. It is crying and screaming scardy chirps and peeps non-stop, pissing and shitting itself in fear, and hyperventilating at the same time.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” yells out Carl at the sight.
The mare, crying her eyes out, pleads with Carl to help free her “wittew stuck babbeh, pwease daddeh, pwease! Babbeh scawed! Babbeh scawed! Nee tu be wif mummah!”
Carl picks up the hamster tube containing the fat foal, and leaves the room.
The mare and her other foals try to follow him, but Carl stops them, telling them that he needs to do “hoomin magic” to help her babbeh out. He shuts the saferoom door behind him.
Carl takes the fat tubed foal into the kitchen with him on the other side of the house.
The fat little fuck is scared and squealing loudly from being away from its mummah.
The foal is glancing all around the room, hoping to catch a glance of her, to no avail. He rapidly bellows out scardy chirps and peeps, but mummah isn’t around to hear them.
Carl opens up a drawer in the kitchen and takes out a mini-saw, and a sewing box his ex-girlfriend left behind. He places both on the table next to the frightened foal in the tube.
He takes the mini-saw and very carefully saws directly in front of and directly behind the frightened foal, who freaks out, squealing every step of the way.
“Hmmmmm, you can still drink milk with this much cut off, and can still shit in the litterbox with enough cut off at the end, but I’m not freeing your fat ass. I have a … better idea.”
Carl opens the sewing box, and takes out a long sewing needle.
“Awww, mummah’s wittew stuck babbeh want to play wif daddeh?”
Carl holds the tubed foal in one hand, while rapidly jabbing it’s plump rump deep with the sewing needle in his other hand, over and over!
“SCCCRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Screams the wild eyed foal as he pisses and shits himself once again from the shock of being rapidly stabbed by a sharp sewing needle. Rapidly flailing his arms and legs in all directions, trying to escape the pain.
The foal glances all around the room for mummah, tears streaming down his cheeks, but she is still nowhere to be found.
After Carl stops his assault, the foal stops screeeing long enough to bellow out a loud series of rapid chirps and peeps to alert its mother to its plight. But its all in vain, she’s too far away (and locked in the saferoom) to hear.
Carl walks back to the kitchen drawer, and looks through a multitude of multicolored thumbtacks. He finds half a dozen that are purple in color, very similar to the foal’s fluff. These will do nicely.
Carl returns to the foal with the thumbtacks in hand. Turns the tube around, facing its rear end, and jabs all of them into random locations on its fat fluff behind!
“SCRRREEEEEEEEEEE! EEEEEEE! EEEEEEE! EEEEEEE!”
Screams the fat foal as it is stuck over and over, its facial expression in frightened shock, crying for mummah.
The foal now has half a dozen purple thumbtacks sticking fully into its fluff, very similar in color to its own fluff.
Carl takes a short sewing needle out of the sewing box, flicks the foal’s balls (eliciting a loud SCREEEEEE) and then jamming the sharp sewing needle right through BOTH balls!
“SCCCRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
The short sewing needle fit perfectly through its ballsack.
The stuck foal is now squirming around like crazy, trying its best to free itself from the tube in its pain, to no avail.
Carl turns the tube around, with the foal facing him. He smiles maliciously at the foal, which is crying while chirping and peeping.
Carl sits down in a kitchen chair, and sits down the tubed foal facing him on the table. Then he takes out two more short sewing needles.
“Hold still.”
Carl says, as he uses one hand to grab a squirming front hoof, and the other to jam a sharp needle deep into it, until the short sewing needle is barely visible, totally embedded deep into its very sensitive hoof.
“SCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Screams the fat foal, as he squirms in pain and horror, trying its best to resist, uselessly. His face showing horrific pain, mouth wide open in an endless scream.
Carl repeats the process for the other front hoof.
Now the foal has two short sewing needle permanently embedded into both of its front hooves, a sewing needle through its ballsack, and half a dozen purple thumbtacks on its fat backside.
Carl carries the foal back to the saferoom, while it lets out a constantly pained “EEEEE! EEEEE! EEEEE!” sound over and over.
Carl gives the tortured fat foal back to his mother. She looks very concerned, and gives the tubed foal huggies, as it cries and eeeees.
“Wut wong wif mummah’s wittew sensitibe babbeh? Babbeh am scawed an haf many owies! Babbeh am stiww stuckies! Why am mummah’s wittew sensitibe babbeh stiww stuckies?”
“The only way to free your baby, is to feed it ALL of your miwkies. Everyday. Its the only way to free it! If your baby is full of all of your miwkies, the miwkies inside it will make it slide out of the tube. But it has to drink ALL of your miwkies. Your other foals can’t have any!”
The mare is very concerned and upset when she hears this, and pleads with Carl.
“Buh, buh, mummah’s odda wittew babbehs nee tu dwink miwkies! Babbehs get tewwible tummeh owies wizout mummah’s miwkies! Pwease daddeh!”
Her other foals are crying and as upset as her.
“Sorry girl, its the only way to save your sensitive baby. You need to feed him ALL of your miwkies! No exceptions! Just until he breaks free!”
The mare loudly bawls and bawls, as does her other foals.
Carl quickly snatches up her other foals and places them in an large open toy chest (too high for mummah to climb in). The mare reacts.
“Nuuuuuu, gif babbehs tu mummah! Babbehs nee mummah! Babbehs nee mummah!”
She waddles over to the large toy chest and places her hooves on it, crying.
“Sorry girl, feed your sensitibe baby, and once he’s freed, you can have your other babies back.”
Carl leaves the saferoom, as the mare bawls, still hugging the toy chest. The frightened foals inside crying for mummah.
Carl has some special kibble in his garage. A fattening kibble. It is meant to fatten up foals through making the milk produced through the mare be ultra high in calories.
Carl grabs the bag of kibble, and then heads to his bedroom to pick up a dildo that his ex-girlfriend left behind in his dresser drawer.
He then heads back into the saferoom.
The mare is now feeding her fat tubed foal, with tears streaming down her eyes. The foal makes hurt “eeeee” sounds every few seconds as it feeds, due to the needles still stuck in it.
Carl explains to the mare as he fill her food bowl with the new kibble, that this food will give her the bestest miwkies for her sensitive baby.
“Tank ou daddeh, huuu huuu.” She replies.
After the feeding is over, Carl asks the mare to turn around, and bend over.
“Why daddeh?”
“Daddy needs to put something in your poopie place to help you make miwkies faster!”
“Nu touch poopie pwace daddeh! Dat pwace am jus fow poopies, huuu huuuu!”
“Don’t be a bad mummah! This is for your babies benefit!”
“Huuuu, huuuuu, otay daddeh.”
Carl shoves the dildo deep into her asshole, totally plugging it up, and causing rectal bleeding to ooze out.
“SCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
The mare screams as her eyes widen and tear up.
“POOPIE PWACE HAF WOWSTEST OWIES! HUUUUU HUUUUU! NU WIKE! NU WIKE!”
“You have to bear it girl, if you truly love your little babies!”
Carl leaves the saferoom, and only returns once a day to refill her kibble.
-----DAYS PASS-----
With each passing day, the fat tubed foal gets fatter and fatter. His breathing becomes labored, and the tube around him is squeezing him like a vice! His eyes are even starting to bug out!
With each passing day, the mare PLEADS with him over and over to let her make poopies, that she has “tewwible tummeh owies” and “nees tu make poopies”. Her stomach is horribly bloated from all the backed up shit. Carl refuses to take out the dildo.
With each passing day, the foals in the toy chest get weaker and weaker, crying endlessly for “miwkies”.
Each passing day, Carl stares down at them, wasting away in their toy chest, and yells at them,
“NO MIWKIES!”
Each day, Carl delights in hearing the mare screaming in pain (from her blocked up intestines) while feeding her fat tubed foal all of her miwkies.
On the fourth day, Carl enters the room to the mare crying hysterically. Her “wittew sensitibe babbeh” is finally dead. Crushed by the tube around its body.
Its eyes are bugged out, its tongue is hanging out, blood is seeping from both. There are large cracks in the tube from where the rapidly expanding foal was crushed.
“Waaaaah, mummah’s wittew sensitibe babbeh nu move nu moaw! Waaaaah! Babbeh nu wongew make chiwpies ou peepies fow mummah! Waaaaah! Mummah nu wan mummah’s wittew sensitibe babbeh tu be fowevew sweepies! Huuuuu, Huuuuu!”
Carl picks up the dead tubed foal and stares at it.
“Wow, looks like you really were too fat to breathe!”
The mare quickly pleads to “make poopies” again. She is close to entering septic shock from the looks of her. When she is not crying for her dead foal, she is screaming from horrific intestinal pain.
Carl shakes his head no.
The mare, despite her horrific pain, then asks Carl if she can feed her other babies now.
Carl looks down into the toy chest. One foal is dead, the orange one, starved to death. The other three are just barely alive. Skin and bones. All three breathing rapidly, too weak to get up, too weak to speak.
Carl turns to the pained mother and asks,
“Which do you want more? To make poopies? Or feed your babies? You can’t have both! If you make poopies, you will never get to fed your babies, and they will take forever sleepies! Decide wisely!”
The mare is horribly conflicted. She wants to shit more than anything, but her paternal insticts overide her self preservation. She wants to save her babies.
“B-b-babbehs. Sniff. Mummah wan save hew wittew babbehs. Dey wuz in mummah’s tummeh fow su wong! Huuuu, huuuuu!”
Carl nods. He takes out the three weak surviving foals, and places them up to her crotch tits to feed.
The starving foals rapidly greedibly drink her milk with gutso! Until their bellies LITERALLY burst from the strain!
“SCCCRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
The foals scream as their bellies burst from drinking too much milk in a weakened starvation state!
Their little weakened bodies couldn’t handle it!
The mare is in absolute hysterics! Screaming for her dead foals, and for the blockade of shit in her intestines!
“You made your choice, live with it!”
Carl laughs as he leaves the saferoom, locking the door behind him.
He returns two days later to find the mare dead from septic shock, with a look of horrific agony frozen on her dead face. Cuddled next to her dead foals, which now have ants and flies buzzing around them.
[The End]