Sensitivity (By Goomy)

Any day now, Liz thought to herself, looking into the saferoom and watching Sweet Corn rocking as side to side as much as her swollen body would allow. She’d had the earthie mare since she was a talkie babbeh, named her after her yellow fluff with white spots and her pale yellow mane. And while Liz had never expected herself to be the kind of person to get a fluffy never mind come to love them as part of her family? Her therapist had been right, she had needed something…someone to make sure she wasn’t left alone with her thoughts.

After all, Paul wasn’t there anymore. After what had happened…what she couldn’t do anymore? He had left, her misery and the reminders of what they could’ve shared, should have shared together and the new life that was ended before it had a chance to begin? It was too much for him. Some days Liz wondered what he would think about the nursery now being Sweet Corn’s saferoom. But most days? Liz put Paul as far out of her mind as she could. He wasn’t in her life anymore, his friends weren’t in her life anymore. And thanks to Sweet Corn’s play group (after a mistake made with spacing leading to googling fluffy ponyplay group. Liz didn’t like to kinkshame but some people had it coming)? Liz had made new friends, had people to talk to again. She was rebuilding her life.

And she had Sweet Corn to thank for it. So when it came time to potentially have the earthie spayed? She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She remembered the pain not being able to have a child left her with. Even though Sweet Corn was just a fluffy? Liz couldn’t take the possibility of being a mother away from her. And now? Now she watched the little earthie mare rocking and singing to her tummy babies and it brought something that had been lacking in her life for so very long.

A smile.

“Soon Mummah soon mummah. Sweetie Cown Soon Mummah! Wub aww babbehs. Aww sweetie cown babbehs gud babbehs!” Sweet Corn sang to herself, absolutely lacking anything even remotely resembling rhythm or a sense of pitch. And how could her babies be anything other than good? After all, she had the bestest hoomin mummah. She got sketties every Saturday if she was good, and except for a few times when she had accidentally made bad poopies when she was still a foal? She was always good for Mummah Liz.

She knew what happened to bad fluffies. Bad fluffies got the sorry stick or the sorry box. And really bad fluffies? The worstest fluffies ever? Lost their leggies and got put in boxes. Those fluffies? The worstest fluffies ever? Didn’t even get kibble. They had to num poopies because they were so bad. Sweet Corn didn’t want to be one of those fluffies, so she was going to be the bestest fluffy ever for her hoomin mummah. And that meant no begging. Even if she really REALLY wanted something, something like…babies.

Sweet Corn knew that babies were special. Babies made hoomins happy, and that would make her happy! She’d get to sing them songs, and play games with them, teach them to make good poopies and pee-pees, to say please and thank you. Having babies? Would be the bestest thing ever. But? She knew she couldn’t beg. Begging for them would make her a bad fluffy. So she waited and hoped and hoped. And then? One day her hoomin mummah asked if she wanted to have babies!

Sweet Corn thought she was having the bestest sleepy time picture. But no, it was really happening! Her hoomin mummah was going to let her have babies! And even better…she was going to get to keep one of them, and even the ones who went to live with other hoomin mummahs and daddehs? She would get to see at play group. This made her so happy, even though Liz had said that Sweetie wouldn’t get to have a special friend stay with her and would instead be getting something called a “stud”. She didn’t know what that means, but if it was going to give her babies and she’d get to keep one? She didn’t care. It had to be a good thing. No, it was the BESTEST thing.

It turned out a stud was another fluffy! She had to go in mummah’s vroom vroom munstah to another hoomin housie to meet him. He was an earthie like her, with black fluff and a red mane. Mummah was busy talking with the other fluffy’s Daddeh while she got to play blockies with the red and black fluffy, who was named Bouncer. They played and played, and then hugged…and then something happened. Bouncer’s nono stick got bigger, and he said he wanted to give her special hugs. She liked regular hugs a lot, so special hugs had to be even better. She didn’t know why this meant he had to put his nono stick into her special place and at first? It hurt and Bouncer wouldn’t stop! He just said “Enf Enf Enf” while moving his nono stick in her special place till he said “Gud Feews” and she felt something inside her.

It made her cry. Cry a lot, and Mummah was worried. Meanie Bouncer just waddled back to his ball and ignored her, and his daddeh didn’t seem upset. But she got a skettie treat and Mummah said she had been a good fluffy and gave her head scritchies. And riding back to her housie in Mummah’s vroom vroom? Sweet Corn felt it. She had tummy babies!

She was going to be a mummah soon!

Liz watched Sweet Corn, the smile on her lips radiant. While having a fluffy didn’t undo what had happened? Her adorable little fluffball was doing her absolute best to push the pain and loss away with an infectiously earnest joy in motherhood. Liz had found a “soon mummah school” for Sweet Corn to attend. Really, it was more or less a playgroup for pregnant mares, but with the games and songs serving in lessons on how to be a good mother, what to do if a baby “nu smeww pwetty”, and how to teach foals when they weren’t chirpies anymore. After all, Fluffies learned best when they enjoyed the lesson and making them into games? Helped the lessons stick. If they could’ve only taught her how to carry a tune. But the little yellow and white mare’s song was interrupted.

“Mummah! Sweetie nee make poopies!” Sweet Corn shouted. “Poopie pwace an speshuw pwace hab huwties! Nee make poopies! Nee make BIGGEST POOPIES!” Sweet Corn’s shout became a cry, pain evident on her face. Did this happen because meanie Bouncer put his nono stick in her special place? Was this going to hurt her tummy babies!??

“Sweetie, you’re about to have your babies!” Liz ran to get the birthing mat, carefully lifting the fluffy from her bed and setting her down on the stain resistant padding. And not a moment too soon, as quickly after a gush of fluid the first foal emerged, a teal Unicorn filly.

“Ba…babbeh?” Sweet Corn managed, Liz carefully scooping the chirpie up and placing it in front of Sweet Corn, who began to give the babbeh wickie cweanies. “Nu taste pwetty…bu…am gud babb…Owies!” A contraction wracked her body as another foal begain to emerge, the first soon chirping and peeping as her brother, a black earthie colt emerged into the world. In the end? Sweet Corn gave birth to 5 babies. One teal unicorn filly, a black earthy colt, two red earthy fillies, and a pink pegasus colt. All of them were good babies. All of them were her babies, and she loved them all so much.

Liz had done the right thing, gotten Sweet Corn special “mummah fwiend” formula kibble. It helped make sure that the little earthie mare made enough milk for all her babies. Which was good, because while she knew that chirpies needed to feed often? She hadn’t expected this. Sweet Corn was at least good about rotating her babies to make sure they all got enough milk. But one of them, the little unicorn filly? Seemed to always be hungry. Sweet Corn had even told her that she had woken up to the little filly suckling on her miwkie pwace. And while she wasn’t running out of milk? Liz was still a little worried about the little unicorn. But she seemed to be healthy otherwise, so it was something that could be kept for their first checkup in a day or two once their eyes opened.

Sweet Corn was the proudest mummah ever! Her babies, her beautiful babies had opened their see places! Their first words, a chorus of “mumah!” “miwk!” “Wub!” “Huggies!” and another “Wub!” made her have the mostest heart happies. All that was left was for her pretty pointy babbeh to open her see places. To see her bruddas and sissies, her big saferoom, her hoomin mummah. She would teach all of them to play, to make good poopies, to love and be loved. Any moment now, she’d hear her final daughter’s first words.






Mummah. Miwkies. Good. Safe. Warm.

“Chirrp! Peep! Speep! Chirrp!” The teal filly exclaimed, before crawling back to her mummah’s miwkie pwace, starting to suckle like her little life depended on it more than it already did. Her bruddas and sissies had through hugs? Formed a tiny fluffpile, engaging in foal babble.

But she didn’t need any of that. Or want it. It was scary.

“Mummah! Teaw pointy babbeh nu tawkies!” Sweet Corn called out, her distress bringing Liz running. And sure enough, when she nudged the little filly away from her miwkie pwace to let her siblings eat? All the little filly would do was chirp and peep, and try to crawl back desperately to her miwkie pwace.

Something was…not right with her teal filly.


at least we know wich is the baby that will stay in that home
mares usually love sensible babies so i guess nothing bad will hapen


“What do you fear most in the world?”

“The possibility that love is not enough.”


i mostly fear running out of money,but i guess is just a default fear that comes with being born in a third world country (???)


I kinda hope there will be a continuation cuz im kinda invested in what happens next


Great start to a new series, your stories are such engaging reads!

I’ll have to send you one of the Diet “Milkies Time” boxes I’ve been working on for little ‘teal’; it’s formula specially made for overweight and SBS foals :vito:

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I have a feeling sweetcorn might not like the sensitive babbeh


This has the makings of an excellent story start! Please write more!

That said, please be more restrained with your use of question marks. They are almost exclusively for a character asking or thinking a question. This may include the author directly questioning the reader, but this is rare and seems old-fashioned nowadays.

For example, with this passage, all three question marks are inappropriate.

Remember, question marks are for someone asking or thinking a question, not for emphasis or affectation or, as is the case here, a question in the narration of a character.

Here’s how I would recommend re-writing the above passage without the inappropriate question marks:

So when it came time to potentially have the earthie spayed, Liz couldn’t bring herself to do it. She remembered the pain not being able to have a child left her with. Even though Sweet Corn was just a fluffy, Liz couldn’t take the possibility of being a mother away from her. Now Liz watched the little earthie mare rocking and singing to her tummy babies and it brought something that had been lacking in her life for so very long. A smile.

For two of these, it was actually perfectly appropriate to just use a comma. For the third one, ‘And now?’ is not a complete sentence, really serves no purpose beyond adding an awkward emphasis, and actually is far more likely to slow down the story’s pacing and potentially even confuse the reader.

There are also a few awkward phrasings that hurt the pacing and one that is very nearly a garden path sentence/phrase (I’ve added a link for a more thurough definition, but it basically means that the sentence tricks the reader into misreading it, in the passage it is the ‘pain not being able to have’ phrase) Stylistically, I would re-write the passage as follows:

So when the time came to consider having the earthie spayed, Liz couldn’t bring herself to do it. She remembered the pain from not being able to have a child of her own. Even though Sweet Corn was just a fluffy, Liz couldn’t risk putting her fluffy through the same trauma. As Liz watched the little earthie mare rocking and singing to her tummy babies, it brought her something that she had been badly lacking for so very long; a smile.

Please let me know if you have any questions, I won’t just edit stuff, but I’m happy to help with the concepts.


I actually really appreciate the commentary. My concerns about readability often cause me to delay writing or not bother entirely. I suppose it’s one of those situations where while something makes perfect sense in my head, getting the words out I run into a barrier.


No problem dude, like I said, I liked the story, and I hope you write more!
Also the next time you feel self conscious about your prose, remember that all people are born with ten thousand words worth of bad writing in them, and everyone just has to get them out of the way to get to the good writing.


I’m going to work on the next part keeping what you’ve said in mind then come back and give Sensitivity a rework for readability.

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pro tip: read it aloud as you write it, and when you’re done with a paragraph, go back and read the entire thing aloud, you might catch awkwardness and whatnot that way.


Quality read, please continue


About fucking time! Very good.

It’s interesting as most works indicate that the mother notices at birth there is something wrong with the foal, so this feels a bit new.


i struggle with that myself, haha

Oh I like the direction and sweet corn is precious


Same here, love the story so far

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Tip on SBS foal writing, emphasize how fat it is compared to other foals, lack of teeth growth snd maybe how underdeveloped its genitals are and lack of mane despite its growth…tho this advice might be odd and based on my headcanon take it with a grain of salt

A great deal of the material depicting SBS going all the way back to No Miwkies has done so from the perspective of a foal without any attempt at intervention. While some physical traits would carry through ? Not all of them are going to be present here.

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I think i understood what youbsaid there… tho have had an exhausting day so i msy not know fully whst you’re saying