LATE Easter Special
Stompie hopped on screen, white bunny ears attached to the top of her mask, a little bunny tail on a belt behind her. She titled her head to the camera cutely before straightening. “Hey, guys. I know my streaming has been irregular lately. I’m so sorry!” She covered her mask with her hands as if hiding her face. “But! I’m trying to get back into it. And to make up for it, I decided to post the Easter special ya’ll have been wanting to see.” With that, the opening animation played. This time, the opening screen had some colorful eggs with rabbit ears on it.
Stompie was waiting with a box of peeping, scared foals and an opaque box, along with a staple gun that had googly eyes with eyelashes glued to it, and a painted on smile. Stompie grinned widely. “So…what do you think of when you think of Easter?” She gave a slight pause. “The Easter bunny, of course!” She said. “Foals are the cuter of the shitrats, so it’s fun to dress them up. The problem is…their ears flop.” Stompie titled the opaque container to show it was white fabric with pink stitched in. “So we’re gonna change that, AND make them white.” Stompie held up the staple gun. “This ought to hold them ears up!” She claimed. She set the container and the staple gun down, and reached in for her first victim.
A purple foal was taken out, peeping and crying. “Huuuhuuu! Mummah! Sabe babbeh! Hewp! Scawy!” It cried, flailing its little nub hooves.
“Mummah isn’t coming to save you. She got knocked up when she wasn’t supposed to. You’re an unwanted reject. So they gave me to you. Now your death can have some sort of meaning.” Stompie claimed. Then giggled. “Aw, it’s not like me to get so philosophical. The simple answer is because f-ck you, that’s why.” She told the foal. “Okay, so you’re a…” she forced the foal’s back legs apart. “Boy. I think. It’s so puny.”
The foal cried, and squirmed. “Nu wook at nu-nus!” He cried. “Nu wook! Nu wook!”
“Calm down.” Stompie rolled her eyes and flicked the foal’s tiny member.
“SCREEEEEEEE!” The foal curled in on itself. “SCREEEE!” It sobbed. “Wai? Babbehs am fo wuv! Fo wuv!”
“You are for hurties. Hurties and entertainment!” Stompie told him. She plopped him on the table. “You’ll stay there if you know what’s good for you.” She told him. She got the two ears and the staple gun. She saw the little foal stay there, shaking, pissing himself. Stompie sighed. “Well, that’s the last time I trust someone else to empty the foals.” She rolled her eyes. She grabbed the foal, forcing one floppy ear up, pressing the white ear to it, then pushed the staple gun against it. “Be really careful when you do this. Wouldn’t want you to puncture a finger.” She told the camera. “These things are a bitch to remove.” She pulled the trigger.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The foal gasped for breath before screaming again. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The staple in it’s ear was almost as tall as his ear, keeping it upright. It fruitlessly tried to reach for the injured appendage. “Heaw pwace huwties!” He was focusing so much on that ear he didn’t notice when his other ear was lifted.
Stompie put the staple in the other ear and the foal tried to jerk away.
“SCREEE! OWIES! OWIES!” It was rolling around now in it own piss, but its ears were indeed standing up, looking like bunny ears. However the white fabric was now soggy and piss yellow.
Stompie put a glove on, and lifted the fluffy by the scruff of the neck. “Now we’ve got our little bunny rabbit!” She said, raising her voice to be heard above the crying. “But wait! It needs some buck teeth, don’t you think?” She asked. She got a staple, but it had two white fabric flaps on it for teeth. “You put this one in manually.”
Stompie forced the foal’s mouth open when it was whimpering, then positioned the staple. After a pause for dramatic effect, the foal’s eyes darting for escape, she shoved the staple into the flesh between the foal’s gums and lips.
“MOUF HUWTIES!” The foal’s words were garbled but the meaning was clear enough. His whole face was wet with tears.
“Now the tail!” We can’t have this long, ugly tail!” Stompie grabbed the tail, hauling the fluffy up by it. It’s snout was just a few centimeters above the ground. Stompie took a pair of scissors, and snipped the tail at the base.
The foal fell, bashing its snout into the metal table, blood tripping from his tail stump and his nose. “SCREEEEEEEEEE!”
Stompie then took out a white pom pom ball with a tack in it. “Put it where the tail is or just above.” She stuck the tail in where the tail was.
“SCREEEEEE! NUUUUU!” The pony screamed. It tried to reach back towards its rear, its little nubs far too short to reach it’s tail.
Stompie left the poor foal to wallow in pain as she moved onto the next one. The foal box was clear, so the foals could see their fate and they were suitably horrified. When Stompie began moving her hand into the container, the foals started to scream and tried to run away. Unfortunately for them they moved at a slow walk so Stompie easily plucked the next one up, a light blue. “Here we are!” She said. She titled the box a bit so the audience could see the foals, shades of pastel or light colors. Easter themed like pink, purple, yellow, green, and blue. “I chose these colors specifically for this stream. Might as well make it special, right?” She asked. She then looked over the blue fluffy. “Let’s see if you’re a filly or colt.” She flicked it’s back leg, which sent it snapping to the side with a “SCREEE!” And the leg broke. “Ah sh-t.” She said. “Filly… Well, I guess I can work with a broken leg. You don’t need it to be a bunny, after all.” She said, plopping the filly onto the table.
“OWIES! WEGGIE HUWTIES!” The little creature screamed.
“Oh, it’ll get much worse, little foal. Don’t you worry.” She said. “Now…let’s make an Easter fluffy doll.” Stompie grinned at the camera. “For those who aren’t in the know, a fluffy doll is made from an actual fluffy. Just not able to speak or move. It’s a lot more convenient. You need a diaper if you want it to last beyond the first feeding.” She told them. She put the fluffy upside down on the table, and switched to the secondary camera, which was overhead.
“Wong way upsies!” The foal protested, wiggling her little leggies.
Stompie ignored this, and grabbed a scalpel. She then made a cut on the foal’s upper left leg, cutting the tendons. She made three similar cuts, making the leggies functionally useless.
“Weggies! Nu can feew weggies!” The foal screamed. It went to yell again, but the blade was now in the fluffy’s mouth. Stompie made a cut to the vocal cords and then got a needle and thread. “Now we stitch them up. If you want them to last, you leave a small hole in the mouth.” Stompie sewed the foal’s mouth shut, then got the ears and tail.
The foal’s eyes widened to see the tools come out, and wiggled its body. It was utterly helpless, the fear in its eyes conveying it’s thoughts.
“Sometimes less is more, right guys? Like less movement and sound. You can really watch the thing struggle like this.” Soon enough the little fluffy was finished, and Stompie jiggled it around like a toy. “See? You treat em like any other doll!” She then intentionally left it in a very uncomfortable position to move onto the next fluffy.
“Next…we’ll make them walk like a bunny!” Stompie plucked out a yellow unicorn, and checked…it was a boy. “A little colt, hm? Sucks to be you.” She put the foal down and got out a pre cut dowel rod. There was a string in the middle with a loop on the end. Stompie got the staple gun, and used it to attach the fluffy’s legs to the ends of the rod.
“SCREEEE! NUHUHUHUHUUU! NU HUWTIES! PWEASE! JUS WAN HUGGIES!” It begged of Stompie.
Stompie looked up at the camera. “This one is a milk thief. You can tell by the way he’s bulkier but his legs are weak.” She said. She then used the looped string to go around the fluffy’s genitals. She then gave the fluffy a flick on the rear to make it move.
“Owies!” The fluffy tried to run, only to find his back legs were moving strange and his no no stick hurt terribly! He had to move both back legs at the same time to move them. Even then he kept forgetting and made agonizingly slow progress.
“And that’s Easter foals!” Stompie clapped her hands happily. “Next…I think we’ll move onto dying fluffies.” Stompie swept the other fluffies off the table, smirking as they tumbled down, screeing. The one she’d just made died on impact. The doll…she thought it was dead. It sure wasn’t moving anymore. That first fluffy got lucky, however. It managed to land on the doll fluffy, and was still alive. Barely. It broke both limbs on the left side.
Stompie set up for the next event. While she did this, half the screen showed a sponsorship website, where she took special requests for money, sending the event directly to the requester. She showed some of them that the requester allowed to.
Her favorite shown was a foal in a product called a ‘foal sack’. It was essentially a bag with an adjustable neck hole to keep foals from sploring too far. The request was to fill the sack with sharp rocks, glass, tacks, and other things that could hurt the fluffy. Then play hackey sack with it. The video showed Stompie carefully loading the bag up, managing to not cut herself due to some thick gloves. Then obtaining a foal. The request was a foal who didn’t know what was happening to it. So she went and adopted one for free from a shelter. A rejected one that cried with happiness to be adopted. Of course any videos that showed Stompie’s face were blurred before ever going out. Stompie played with the foal a bit, then was on screen, in costume. The foal was loaded into the sack and it’s face turned from happy to confused, shocked, then in pain. Stompie let the sack drop and managed to hit it with her foot. She was…not good at the game, but she was enthusiastic about it, and that was what counted.
Another favorite was yo-yo with the fluffy. She found a nice, sturdy string, and a fat foal. She tied it around the fluffy’s middle, tight enough to leave a grove. The foal had to have enough fat so she could have a groove when she tied the string. She let the foal drop, then pulled hard when it reached the end. Unfortunately foals did not make good yo-yos, so it did not go up very far. It had to have creative tricks done so it could be properly played with.
The third most liked video was another featuring the foal sack, but the fluffy was to be a pin cushion. The foal sack was made to be absorbent so fluids would not leak out…the fluid in this case being blood. The foal was in the foal sack and laid out on the table. Stompie had needles of all sizes laying out. She took them one by one, pushing the needle into non vital places, turning the fluffy into a living pin cushion as it screamed its lungs out, finally coughing out blood.
Finally Stompie was back with some steaming metal containers and some tongs. The foals were in the tub, unsure of what this new thing was.
Stompie clapped her hands. “Foal dyeing! Normally we use eggs. Don’t worry, we’ll have fluffies and eggs later. For now…” she took the tongs and clacked them. “Let’s show these fluffies an example!” She reached in with the tongs and took out a light blue fluffy. Unfortunately it had some ugly green spots that made it look like it was moulding, and a mane of the same color. Stompie made a face. “Well, no secret why you were donated. How’d you like to look prettier, fluffy?” She asked.
The foal who looked despondent at first perked up. “Weakly, nice wady? Make fiwwy wook pwetty?” She asked, tail wagging.
Stompie smirked to be called a nice lady. How that would change. “Of course! Lets make you purple!” Stompie took the fluffy over the the steaming container labeled with a V, presumably for violet, and dipped the fluffy into the steaming liquid.
“Gonna wook pwetty! Gonna wook pwetty! Gonna wook pwe-SCREEEEEEEEE!” The foal apparently did not like the hot liquid, and flailed for all she was worth. “OWIES! BUWNIE WAWA HUWTIES!” It screamed, but was dunked under briefly. The foal was taken out, coughing, but its fur was indeed a rich violet now. It was left on a tub with paper toweling on the bottom, coughing and shaking.
“See! She’s purple now! And mentally scarred for life! It’s gonna be a short life, but we made a mark!” Stompie then took the tongs, and found a yellow fluffy. “Alright, what’s the next color?” Each container was labeled with the first letter of each color of the rainbow in order. “We’ll do a few full dyes, then we’ll try to do some half tones and patterns.” She told her audience.
“Nu! Nu wan buwnie wawa! Nu wan be pwetty!” The foal protested, wiggling against the tongs.
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll drop you.” Stompie lifted the foal higher, tormenting it with the idea of a hard fall.
After a few seconds, Stompie checked the screen. “Blue, huh?” She asked. “Alright, we’ll make this one a pretty blue.” She slowly lowered the foal towards the steaming liquid.
“SCREEEEEE! NUUUU! SCREEEEE!” The foal tried its best to cringe away from the dye, but it was dunked in a few time, the tongs releasing once or twice to ensure the dye got the whole fluffy. She pulled the panicked creature out.
The foal was coughing and hacking between chips of distress, a little bit of fur gone, its eyes closed. “B-buwnie see pwaces!” It sobbed.
“Right, forgot to mention. This dye can be irritating to skin and eyes. But we don’t care, right?” She asked. She plopped the foal by the other dyed one. The newly purple foal went to hug the newly blued one, but Stompie clacked the tongs to get their attention. “Mess up that dye color and I’ll have to do it again. To both of you.” She grinned at the tortured look on their faces. They wanted huggies! Huggies made everything better! But if they gave huggies, they’d get hurties!
Stompie picked out a random foal. A soft green. It was also pretty fat, and peeping angrily. “Hm. Maybe a sensitive foal since it’s still peeping? He looks like he should be able to talk by now, right?” She poked it a few times. “We’ll dye him red.” She decided. She lowered the foal slowly into the dye.
The foal cheeped in alarm at the rough poking. Slowly it was lowered into the steaming liquid, and began to peep up a storm, it’s little limbs waving. It was soon straining to keep its snout above the surface. He barely got a breath in until he was submerged in the overly hot liquid. It turned everywhere! He waved his little arms, not able to reach the surface. Suddenly he was unceremoniously pulled out and left on a rough surface. The creature was pathetic, curling up as far as it could and peeping, crying for its mother.
“Wasn’t that fun?” Stompie asked her audience. “So…I’m feeling a half and half now.” She said. “I’ll do half green, half blue. We’ll get a strip of green in the middle.” She said. Stompie dug around the foal box to find a perfectly light colored one. “Oh! A white one! That’ll be perfect!” Stompie dragged it up by the green tail.
“Pu bestest babbeh downsies! Nu puww pwetty taiw!” It flailed about, swinging lightly.
“I think we’re gonna have some fun with this one.” Stompie said. She decided to hand dye this one. “When hand dying, be careful. We can do this because we’ve got fur to grab onto and not an egg’s surface.” She told the audience. She dangled the fluffy above the yellow dye, and dipped the foal in to the halfway point. The back half and legs started flailing with fervor and bubbles came rapidly to the surface. Stompie took the foal out, seeing it was a rich yellow. “Hm. Dandelion yellow…I want him to be piss yellow. Back in you go!” She dipped the foal again, letting bubbles rise up. She took the foal out again.
Finally it caught its breath. “SCREEEEEE! WAI BABBEH GIT HUWTIES!?” It screamed as if it hadn’t just been an insufferable little shit. He tried to waddle away, only to cry in pain from his burns.
Stompie smirked. “Oh, the hurties have just begun.” She said ominously to the fluffy. She made him bob in the air a few times, shaking out excess liquid by holding his tail, then switched her grip, holding the scruff of his neck. “Now we dye the other side!” She said.
The foal was understanding what this ‘dyeing’ process was. It meant hurties. “NU! Nu wan huwties nu mowe!”
“If I gave a sh-t about what you wanted I wouldn’t be doing this now.” Stompie said sweetly, then dunked his back end into the blue dye, letting a bit of overlap happen in the middle.
“EEEEEEEEEE!” the fluffy screamed its little head off, it’s voice hoarse from the chemical burns all over its throat and from overuse of it. Finally the voice cut off, though the fluffy still tried to scream.
“Ah, blessed silence.” Stompie said with a giggle. “I like flfufy screams as much as the next person, but it gets a little repetitive at times, you know? I’m definitely getting ferals next time. They’re a lot smarter. At least compared to these domestic ones.”
She took the fluffy out, and the bottom was a nice blue with a green stripe bisecting the fluffy. “Beautiful!” She said, holding the fluffy up as it shivered in shock. “Now that’s a dyed fluffy!” She claimed.
“Next…we’ll try to dye it two toned…but the other way. Vertical!” She said, remembering the word after. “We’ll do red and yellow!” Stompie searched around for a foal, and found a pink one with the ugliest brown mane she’d ever seen. Stompie winced. “Ugh. Yeah, see why you were rejected.”
The foal’s eyes filled with tears. “Wha…wha ‘wejecked’?” She asked but had a sinking feeling of what it was.
“It means you weren’t wanted. You’re too ugly for even your mummah to love.” Stompie said cruelly with a smile.
The foal burst into tears fully. “N…nuhuhuhu! Mummah wuv babbeh!”
“Then why were you given up, huh? Why aren’t your siblings here?” Stompie knew she was the only one given up of her litter. The rest must have been passably pretty enough. “Now your only use is to get played with by me.” Stompie grabbed the fluffy pinching her side, which made made her squeal in pain. Stompie then dipped the fluffy into the red dye, half her face, half her torso, though her tail bot mostly in there. The foal was dumb enough to try to open her mouth, which caused her to start coughing and hacking. Stompie lifted her out of the dye after. “You’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you?” She asked it.
The foal was hacking too hard to answer. Suddenly her mouth was pinched close by a rubber band, and it was into the yellow dye she went, the other side this time. The foal was unable to breathe, her eyes red from irritation, limbs flailing. She was pulled out after, her tail now mostly orange, as well as her mane. The rubber band was ripped off, leaving a small line of pink over her snout.
“A vertical dye!” Stompie proclaimed with a grin. She plopped it with the others.
“I got one more idea of my own. I’m gonna dye each limb a different color.” Stompie searched around and found a sea foam green foal…but as she lifted it up, she found out why it was rejected. The back left leg stuck out at an odd angle. It was clearly once broken and healed wrong. “Well, he was pretty once, I suppose.” She glanced to see the genitals were mashed as well. “Oh, so he’s useless. Terrible pet, worthless breeding stock.” Stompie said, ignoring he foal’s protested of not being worthless. She dipped the ruined leg in blue dye.
“EEEEEEEE!” The foal couldn’t move the ruined leg, but the rest of the limbs cringed away from the hot dye.
“One leg down, three to go.” The next back leg was dipped in purple.
“Nu wan huwties nu mowe! Wan wuv! Wan wuv!” It screamed.
“But I’m showing love by making you prettier.” Stompie claimed. She turned the foal around to get it’s front legs. She carefully held the limb so it could not move. This limb was dipped in red. “You’re doing so well! Last one!” The last limb was in yellow. Stompie looked at the fluffy. “Hm…I wanna do your head too. In orange!” Stompie dunked the head a few times in the orange dye, leaving a mess of a fluffy with the rest of the dyed ones, their throats and eyes ruined.
“Now…the last one I’ll take a request, so send in what you want.” She said. “In the meantime…let’s play with the dyed ones! Their fur is still wet, so lets see how long it takes to catch one on fire!” She took a lighter out and flicked it on. “Alright, who first…how about the sensitive one?” She grinned and moved the lighter slowly towards the peeping sensitive foal, that tried to crawl away pathetically slow. The lighter reached its fur. It took a few seconds for the flame to catch…then the foal was up like a fireball!
Stompie jerked her hand away, her blue eyes suprised beyond the mask. “Woah! I didn’t realize dyed fur was THAT flammable!” She looked excited. She watched the fire spread along the paper towel, to the other foals. Stompie watched a few seconds before going briefly offscreen to get a small fire extinguisher. She sprayed it, and a white vapor sprayed over the firey foals, putting them out. She gave a brief blast to the undyed foals just to f-ck with them. A small chorus of ‘screeees’ came from the box, followed by some cries for their mummahs, asking why owies, or just plain crying.
She now looked at the requests, and laughed at the most liked one. “Brown? Really, guys?” She shook her head. Then she looked at the dyes and thought. “I might be able to make this work, actually. If I use all the colors.” She said.
Stompie got out a container that could be used for extra dye, and poured in a little of each color dye. When she was done mixing it together, it was an ugly, dark brown. Stompie then took a random foal from the pile. It was robin egg blue, but looked extremely chubby with a unicorn horn. Probably a bestest babbeh. “Oh, it looks like it’s not your lucky day.” She grinned at the foal with puffed up cheeks. “You’re gonna be the ugliest foal ever now.”
“Gib sketties, dummeh!” It demanded.
Well, that set off a chain reaction.
“Sketties?” The little foals began peeping, wanting sketties now, practically chanting for it.
Stompie sighed. “I’ll deal with you in a second.” She told the chubby foal darkly. She took her lighter out, flicked it on, and tossed it into the foal container. “Always have a backup container, kids. Sometimes this happens. Some little sh-t ruins the rest by mentioning the f-cking s word.” She said, watching the foals burn before putting the fire out.
The little foal watched in shock, and would have soiled itself if it weren’t emptied out already.
“There will be no f-cking sketties.” She told the foal, and picked him up with the tongs. She dropped him in the dye, leaving him to drown in the dye. When the bubbles stopped, Stompie took the dead foal out, plopping the thing on the table. “Don’t test me, fluffies. I’m not afraid to go hard.” She looked over table. “Alright, I gotta clean this up a little.” She said. “Enjoy some stalling footage.”
Some of the sped up Timelapse’s of Stompie’s experiments played as the girl cleaned up the play area.
The first video was when she put hot sauce on the hooves of a hoof sucking fluffy named Wimpass. He tried several times to suck his hooves and recoiled from the pain, crying. Eventually the urge to suck his hooves overrode the painful deterrent. He ended up dying from the hot sauce being too hot and Wimpass not having water. He overheated.
The second video was of a fluffy with an infection that had fungi introduced to the wound. The fungi was a strong strain that grew and grew, first weighing down the fluffy, then starting to take it over from the inside out as infection took the fluffy over. Eventually there was a mushroom growing from the fluffy’s head, making its legs move a bit. It was a parasitic type of fungi called cordyceps. It took over bugs or small creatures for the fungi to propagate. The fluffy was just a bit too chubby and unwieldy for the fungi to make it move.
The third video, the fluffy was in a glass box. There were two flies in the container, which a caption helpfully pointed out were botflies. They would go to the fluffy, bite it occasionally, but seemed to do no more harm than that. The fluffy cowered away from the bitey flies in the corner. As the lapse went on, bulges started to grow from the fluffy, the botfly larvae starting to show. The fluffy cried and tried to paw at the botfly larvae, proving to be very ineffective. The fluffy was eaten alive by the larvae, which grew into full botflies.
Stompie was standing in front of a clean workstation, a new box of foals, as well as a carton of Easter Egg Foals. “I’m back~.” She cheered, giving a double peace sign. “Whew. I normally don’t lose my cool like that. But that damn word…I’d never get the foals back on track after mentioning it. Normally I have them threatened to be eviscerated for just mentioning it.” She shook her head. “Now…back to our show. We’re going to be doing the foal eggs!” She clapped her hands happily.
“Those those of you who don’t know what this is…these are sold in shops like regular Easter eggs. Unlike those, which are filled with candy, these have a foal inside.” Stompie held up one that was disassembled. The inside was filled with a soft yet absorbent material. The top had a rubber nipple attached to the top. “See, this is the inside. The top part has room for a little bit of milk so they’ll last the day. After that…well, hope you found them all.” She grinned. “We’ll have our own little experiment later related to that.” She cleared her throat. “Anyways, the padding is to absorb any waste and keep the foal from dying from the elements and keeping it in some level of comfort. Can’t look like you’re torturing the foal, even if you’re shoving them in a small dark space…two of their fears. Hell, just add water and you’ve created a low cost fluffy torture chamber.” Stompie said. “We got three large and three small. The large have walkie talkie foals, the small have only chirpies.”
She took out a large blue one from the carton. “Now…how about we open some of these. But first!” Stompie took out a set of mechanical teeth with angry red cartoon eyes glued on top. “We’ve got Mr. Chompie here! For all our chomping needs. Of course I’m not gonna chomp a furry, unwashed, Un emptied fluffy.” She shook her head. “For those of you into that sh-t, I’m sure there’s a channel for that.”
Finally, it was time to open the egg. Stompie opened it, and there was a small gasp from inside. Stompie tossed the top of the egg aside to reveal a chocolate brown foal.
“Nyu mummah!” It cried, looking thrilled to be out of the dark space. “Babbeh wuv nyu mummah! Tank you fo gettin babbeh out of scawy pwacie!”
Stompie grinned cruelly. “Of course! Let’s give you a name. Are you a colt or a filly?”
The foal gasped. “Nyu namsie!?” It was wagging its fluffy little tail. “Babbeh am cowt!”
“You look like chocolate, so we’ll name you Hershey!” She decided, looking at the camera, then pointedly at the teeth.
“Wuv nyu name!” The foal did a little dance on Stompie’s hand. “Am dancie babbeh!”
“You certainly are. Let’s play.” Stompie put the foal down on the table.
Hershey eeped at the coldness of the metal table. “Eee! Mummah! Nu wike fwoor! Am cowd!”
“It’ll warm up soon.” Stompie lied. Rather, he’d have more things to worry about than the table. She clacked the teeth, getting the foal’s attention.
The foal squeaked, a stream of piss shooting out of him. He at least looked ashamed, putting his tail between his legs. “S-sowwy mummah…nyu fwiend make scawy noise!” He said.
“We’ll clean that up in a minute. I want to introduce you to my very best friend Mr. Chompie.” She said, using the lever at the back left corner to make it clack again.
“N-nyu friend hab big nummie pwace.” The colt seemed afraid to approach Mr. Chompie.
Stompie then began to move the teeth closer to Hershey, clacking them. She put on a false deep voice. “Hershey, you look good enough to eat! Imma num you!”
“SCREEEEEE! NUUUUU!” Hershey began to run, trailing some shit behind him.
The teeth were relentless, chasing down Hershey, eventually grabbing him by the tail, dragging him back.
“NUUU! NYU MUMMAH! HEWP! SABE BABBEH!” Hershey looked desperately at Stompie.
Stompie was cleaning up the piss and shit. “Play nice with your friend.” She said. It was a quick clean, but it would do. After she cleaned it, she went back, and applied weight to the top set of teeth, crushing Hershey’s deep brown tail.
“EEEEEEEEEE! PWETTY TAIW!” Hershey tried to reach for it, but found he was free. “BABBEH ‘SCAPE! GOTTA WUN WAY!” He tried to waddle off, but the teeth were suddenly in front of him, and clacked in front of his nosie. “EEEE!” He ran right into the teeth, the weight of his chubby body carrying him forward.
Stompie opened the jaws, and hd them close around the fluffy’s neck. Not completely, but the foal was well and truly trapped like a person in a stockade.
The foal was now hysterical. “Nu! Nu num babbeh! Babbeh nu am nummies! Mummah! Mummah! Pwease hewp babbeh!”
Stompie slowly closed Mr. Chompie, the pressure causing his small neck to snap, his head and front nub hooves coming off like a grisly guillotine. She grinned after. “That takes care of Hershey. Almost a shame…he seemed like a well mannered foal. Oh well. I don’t judge em. I just kill em for profit.” She pointed at the eggs, as if deciding. “Hm…we’ll go with a chirpie this time.” She picked up a small yellow egg. “Let’s go with this one!” She decided.
Opening it, she heard some chirps and peeps, a soft green foal taking the first breaths of fresh air she’d had from as long as she was in the egg. Stompie smirked as she reached for whatever warmth she could. She plucked the foal out by one of the tiny hooves waving around. As she lifted it, she observed it was a pegasus.
“EEEEEEEEE!” The foal screeched, not liking being lifted up so roughly. It flailed its other nubs around, wings buzzing like a bee’s frantically. It began to rapidly chirp as it was deposited on the table.
“Alright…lets play airplane!” Stompie decided, holding the chubby foal around the middle from the bottom. She began to move the foal around around. “Nyoooom!” She was having a bit of fun, tight turns, upside down, sudden stops.
The peguaus looked so conflicted. She should LOVE flying through the sky, but the maneuvers here were too rough, too scary for the little foal to handle. She began to sob.
“What’s this? Crying? You should love flying. Must be a defective foal. Oh well.” Stompie grinned, then spiked the foal headfirst into the table. It died on impact, it’s head completely into its body like a turtle. Stompie laughed as she picked it up. “Damn! Dunno if that’s my throwing arm or the foal. I have been working out.” Stompie made a muscle with her arm to show off very little muscle.
“Next! We’ll go with a big fluffy! And our next event. We’ll be putting them back into regular Easter eggs, and we’ll see which one is better. Looks pretty cramped in those special eggs.” Stompie got out a large plastic Easter egg that could be found in any store. “Hm. The little strip here might snap.” Stompie meant the small strip of plastic that connected the top and bottom of the egg. “Ah well.” She said. She opened the pink foal egg to find a bright blue pegasus foal. It looked a tad nervous, having heard all sorts of sounds, but smiled to see his nyu mummah. “Mummah?” He asked tentatively.
Stompie gave the camera a wink. “Oh no!” She said, as if worried. “Little one, I’m a worker. Not a mummah!” She said. “You came out WAY too early! You need to go back into your egg!”
The fluffy shrunk away. “Buh….su smaww. An scawy!” It said, its tail between its legs.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a bigger egg for you. Big foals need big housies, right?” Stompie had the egg open, bright pink like the one the fluffy had been in, but devoid of any comfort, absorption, or milk.
The foal clearly didn’t want to go in, but wanted to please a hoomin, so it tried to squeeze back into the space, getting only a little bit more room than he had before. “N-nice wady? Nuh hab woo-“
The egg pieces were put together, only a small line of fur seen. The egg had to be duct taped shut to keep it together. It was meant to be opened by small hands, after all. Stompie held up the egg with a triumphant smirk. “Aww, they fit!” She said. “And it’s protected again! But how protected? Let’s test that.” She held the egg about three feet from the table, lethal height for an exposed foal. But how would it fare against a DIY easter foal setup? Stompie let the egg go, the plastic clacking against the table. A puddle of piss came out the small hole at the bottom, muffled screaming coming from the hole.
“Sounds alive to me!” Stompie gave two thumbs up to the camera. “Lets see how it deals with rainy weather.” Stompie got a wet sponge and squeezed it out over the egg, making sure a good amount of water got in.
Even more panicked screaming ensued from inside the egg as it began rocking back and forth like a Pokeball trying to catch a Pokemon. The liquid below the egg became more brown than yellow.
“Still sounds alive!” Stompie claimed. “So it looks like my version is good! Now we just have to open it up!” Stompie took out a pink sparkly pocketknife to cut the tape. The foal inside was shaking, soaked from both water and excrement, and seemed to have two broken back leggies.
“B…babbeh hab owies!” The foal cried. “Weggies owies!”
“Hm. Too bad.” Stompie ran her knife over the foal’s belly, disemboweling it. “Defective.” She said with a grin.
“Our very last one and special finale is a specially made egg.” Stompie took the egg out of the carton, to reveal it was clear. She took a large clear one out from under the table. “Both made clear so we can see what’s going on!” She said. She put them on the time lapse table. “You can see the big one already can see. The little one…no idea what’s going on.
Sure enough the big one had a pastel purple earthie with a pink mane, trying to paw at the outsides, seeing its mummah with no way to get to her. The small egg held a yellow pegasus with the starts of a green tail.
“I’ll have this time lapse video up when they both perish…or if they somehow break free!” Stompie claimed. She put both of them on a little stand made to hold circular or oval objects.
“But you guys want me to go out with a bang, right?” Stompie put the box of foals on the ground. “Might as well remind ya’ll of my namesake.” Stompie revealed she was wearing her favorite stompin’ boots. She hopped up, landing in the clear box, and began stomping on hopping, crushing each one of the little foals.
“See you next time, guys!” With that, she signed off.
