This story will not be for everyone.
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Basil was doing pretty good for himself, all things considered. Just days earlier he had been abandoned by his owner on the side of the road and left to rot but unlike so many, fate would be in his favor. Left to wander around for awhile he would meet another stallion who was scrounging for food. The stallion had agreed to let him share shelter with him and his new-mummah special friend in exchange for contributing toward feeding her. He’d agreed and they got on well.
Even more than that it seemed like he’d just met a mare that could be his own special friend. She was very beautiful to him, with glossy pink fur and a regal purple mane and tail. It was all topped off with a pointy little horn on the top of her head. It made the very drab olive hued Basil feel kind of out of place but when she met him she just gave one of his ears a lick.
“Hewwo! Am Pwetty!” The mare said, immediately outing herself as a ferals. Ferals always had very simple names. Basil had to look up to her, very much on the small side since he’d experienced severe malnutrition as a foal.
“Hewwo. Am Basiw.” Scuffing his hoof against the grass, she would continue on.
“Basiw hab hewd? Pwetty hab tu?” She asked, giving a flutter of her eyelashes. Not thinking anything of it, he would nod and agree.
Back at the hollowed out tree that served as their nest the mummah with her chirpies gave no objections to having the mare there. Neither did her special friend, though that may be for different reasons other than friendship. Pretty was given a small share of berries and edible grasses they had found that day, the mare giggling and thanking them for all the good nummies. At the end of the night she lay beside Basil in the little nest of dried grass and twigs he’d made, and for the first time in a few days he didn’t think of his meanie mummah leaving him all alone.
Sleep for Basil was good. Fantastic, in fact. Oddly enough though he was having a dream that he was with his own mummah again. The taste of milkies. It had been a long time since he’d suckled, but it was so bright. Warm. Fresh. The stallion shook awake, finding Pretty standing over him.
The mare had one of the chirpies in her mouth. There were five, though he didn’t hear them peeping and cheeping as they always did even this late at night. Basil noticed that that a long trail of slime dripped from the babbeh’s mouth, which had just been dangling over his own. He was stupid but even he could come to the realization: Pretty had squeezed it so hard it’d thrown up into his mouth.
“W-Wha….?” He asked, sleepiness beginning to quickly edge away. There was something warm on him. Hurty wawas and bad peepees from the stallion who had let them stay here. He lay in an unrecognizable mass of twisted flesh and broken bones. What about the mummah?
She was currently being given the wowstest of enfies by a trio of three poopie stallions. The stallions were strange. They didn’t even say ‘enf’ or talk at all really, unless you considered the bizarre gobbling sounds they made any kind of communication. Their tongues constantly slopped out the corners of their mouths, eyes seeming to wander and never settle on one thing at once. They were almost unrecognizable from one another unless you looked closely at the different dookie hues of their tails and manes. Bizarrely, each had multiple circular depressions in their head where fur had stopped growing.
“Dey am bwuddahs. Stinkeh, Dummeh, Stoopeh.” By now Pretty had discarded the chirpy she had emptied into his mouth and brought up another one. It squealed and peeped.
“Pwetty am munstah mawe!” He said in shock, closing his mouth instinctively as the monstrous unicorn squeezed down on the chirpy. More of the partially digested milkies went trickling down on him. The mare dug a hoof into Basil’s side, flaring her nostrils.
“Nyu speciaw fwend nu wike bestest miwkies? He am badsies!?” She asked, causing the stallion to whimper. Being smaller and beyond that, formerly a pet fluffy, he wouldn’t be able to fight her. Why was any of this happening? He wanted to ask this, but that’d involve opening his mouth. The mare dug in again and caused him to squeal in pain as she held up one of the last chirpies.
“Mummah?” Peep. Chirp. “Mummah?” It asked, because we all know when a group of chirpies bites the dust, one magically gets the ability to speak all of a sudden.
“Pwease! Dun huwt! Is omwy widdle babbeh!” Basil begged, though that was the perfect time for Pretty to squeeze down and cause milk to trickle down into his mouth. The babbeh gave a peeping wheeze, flailed it’s legs, was cast aside. The stallion was disgusted, gagged, coughed and hacked.
“Bwuddahs! Watch smawty gib dummeh bestest speciaw feews!” She called out to the trio of poopies, each breaking away from the mare and leaving her a bleeding, dying mess on the floor. Even know she was still croaking for her babbehs to come back. As they got closer, Basil was even more sure there was something most definitely wrong with them. Long cables of drool constantly dripped down from their mouths, and they walked with a clumsiness that wasn’t even natural for a fluffy. They stood their breathing loudly, watching Basil with eyes bereft of any intelligence or basic understanding.
The drab olive male didn’t have much time to think about any of this though because suddenly Pretty had jumped on top of him from behind. Was he going to get sorry-hoofs? No…instead she thrusted and bounced against his backside. It was bizarre. Not exactly painful, but it was embarrassing. Even more so when the poopies began to rock their hooves against their floor, whooping and guffawing.
“Nu am mawe! Basiw nu mawe!” He screamed, trying to crawl away. Pretty leaned forward and sank her teeth into him, savagely pinning him in place as she humped him. It actually was starting to hurt now. He was smaller, it felt like she was trying to break his bones.
“Yew say yew am mawe! Widdwe mawe!” She demanded of him, and he wouldn’t relent until she pierced him with her horn, jabbing him with it rapidly.
“Basiw am mawe! AM MAWE! Pwease nu mowe huwty hugs! PWEASE!” He’d made scaredy peepees because of the abuse, was left to lay in and sob as the mare finally dismounted from him and wandered over to the small pile of berries and grass they had scrounged up earlier that day.
“Nummies su gud!” She said with a delighted tone, scarfing down a pile of berries. All three of her ‘brothers’ stood over Basil, basting him with sheets of their stupid hot breathing.
“Basiw am Pwetty’s mawe fowebah!” She told him, cheeks now stained dark with berry juice. All the stallion could do was hide his face down in the dirt. “Omwy bad dweam….” He hoped, closing his eyes.
