That old shed of mine 3 (by IsItTru)

Tim is stirred awake by a stray ember that had drifted from the dying ashes within his fireplace from the previous night. He scolds himself for falling asleep with a lit fire as he quickly pats the ember away and closes the iron door to seal up his fireplace. His phone buzzes from his pocket to alert him to a new movement notification from his shed camera. He suddenly grins like a child in a candy store before whipping up a quick breakfast with his fresh coffee, digging in as he swipes through his fresh footage.

A few interesting details catch his attention as he continues to take mental notes of every little thing he can see.

-His little guest in the shed seems to be solid grey colored mare. (as far as he can tell through the dirt and muck coating her fluff).

-She has a horn, and it seems she can use it to produce simple sparks capable of creating enough heat to light a fire under the right circumstance.

Tim suddenly face-palms so hard that you could swear he tapped the wall behind him. He had forgotten to clean up the scraps from his old projects in that shed, leaving flammable material on the floor that ended up igniting thanks to the mare’s horn spark. Thankfully, it’s isolated enough that nothing else is close enough to it to spread the small flame.

-The fire, it seems, has still not gone out since it’s accidental ignition 6 hours ago. In fact, it seems to be burning just as bright as ever with no signs of dying any time soon. Given the dry area surrounding the small flame, it would seem that its also acting as a rather generous heat source as well. Tim makes a mental note to go investigate it as soon as there is a break in the weather.

-The newborn foal that was burned by the fire’s ignition is still breathing, evident by the tiny plumes of steam coming from it’s little mouth and nose as it sleeps in it’s mothers matted fluff away from the flame.

-After the entire fiasco that happened last night, the mare ended up simply collecting her offspring into a small pile before making an attempt to clean them before giving up and falling asleep in a tiny little fluff pile.

The snow flurry outside raged on, not letting up even a little from the night before. The snow was starting to blanket everything under nearly 4 feet of snow with no signs of letting up any time soon. Tim finishes his breakfast, takes his last sip of coffee, and stretches his entire body in one swift motion. He needed to shower and get ready for the day, so his reality show would need to wait. Tim puts his phone on the charger, leaving it on his kitchen counter as he makes his way to the bathroom to get his day officially started.

The mare awakens to the sound of raging winds crashing around the outside of the shed walls. The quick repairs and extra tarp protection that Tim had set up were holding firm, keeping the shed standing against the power of the storm.

She rubs her eyes with her tiny little hoofies as the world around her finally comes into focus. The first thing she notices is the sudden feeling of intense cold now quickly rushing over her. Her teeth immediately start to chatter as any remaining body heat she may have had is sapped from her being.
Her attention suddenly shifts to the small fire still burning in the corner. She is familiar with fire. She instinctively fears it, but she knows it’s a source of warmies.

Her body begins to act without her telling it to. It attempts to shift it’s weight forward, mindlessly trying to force it’s way toward the heat source. Her entire body is sore, and every exposed nerve from her injuries begins screaming out in pain as she begins moving. Before she has time to react to the pain, the sudden soft sound of tapping on concrete rips her attention away from the fire.

The mare, in her near frost-bitten exhausted state, had failed to remember that she now had precious cargo nestled in her dingy grimy grey fluff. The 3 newborn foals all tumble to the ice cold concrete shed floor, hitting it with a series of depressingly soft thumps and squishy sounding taps.

A mortified expression instantly spreads across her face as she dives face first toward the foals that now lay silently unmoving in a pathetic little pile before the panicked mother fluff.

“BABBEHS!! NUUU!! MUMMAH HEWE!!”

She scoops the the foals up into her dirty grey fluff just above her barely filled milky places as quickly as her injured squishy hoofies can manage. She puts her burned foal in her fluff with another one of it’s siblings, clinging to the last one with her teeth as she slides on her remaining back fluff over the shit stained concrete. She crys out through clenched teeth as she feels a few small patches on her back catching on the rough concrete floor. She forces herself to get as close to the fire as possible, feeling the sudden warmth wash over her injured body as it begins to thaw. Through tear stinging eyes, she carefully releases the third foal above her milkie places, dropping it on top of it’s two siblings. The babbeh falls only an inch or two, but it’s head seems to drop quicker than it’s body as it hits another one of it’s siblings heads upon its landing. The dropped foal falls limply beside it’s siblings, unconscious once again.

The foal that had been landed on lets out a chirp of pain and panic, the sudden force of it’s sibling landing on it causing a small cut in it’s head. Blood begins to drip down it’s tiny forehead over it’s still sealed shut eyes. It begins squirming and thrashing as the burning pain of the blood forcing it’s way into it’s underdeveloped eye fills it’s tiny body.

The thrashing causes it to squirm and hit it’s burned sibling right on the freshly scorched patch of flesh on top of it’s head, a mound of exposed raw skin sitting where it’s tiny ear used to be. The tiny hit lands, sending the burned foal into a full blown panic tantrum as scorching pain shoots through every nerve it’s tiny little head.

The mare begins sobbing once again, everything was happening to fast for her to do anything to fix it. Her mind slowly glosses over, the warmth of the fire now driving her to act purely on instinct as she goes about the daunting task of thoroughly cleaning her newborn offspring. She carefully picks up the babbeh she had dropped on it’s siblings to start. It’s body hung limp in her hoofies, still knocked out from the previous drop, and begins licking every inch of it clean of poopies, nu smell pretties, and boo boo juice.

-This newborn foal was a colt. Though still quite naked, under the dirt and grime the mare had found tiny patches of black and white fluff with a few sprouts of white hair for it’s mane and tail. The mare also takes notice of a rather pointy bump it his forehead. This baby colt was a unicorn. That explains the damage it did by falling onto her next babbeh-

She carefully places her unconscious child on top of one of her milkie places before gingerly picking up her next foal. The tiny foal had tired itself out throwing it’s little pain tantrum and now simply chirped pathetically in it’s mothers hoofies as blood trickled down it’s injured head.

The mare sighs and begins carefully licking the boo-boo juice away from the small puncture wound that now continued to leak blood over the foals face. She continues licking the foal clean, occasionally pausing to re-clean it’s bleeding forehead wound.

-This newborn was a filly. It was an earthy, lacking any wingies or a pointy. Small patches of neon green fluff dotted the foals body with a few strands of neon red hair sprouting in for it’s mane and tail. It’s eyes, though still tightly shut, were quite obviously larger than the the average babbeh. nearly twice the size of it’s siblings.

The mare continues to clean until the bleeding wound stops before carefully setting her gently on her open milkie place before turning her attention to her final foal. She quickly takes the foal in her hooves, seemingly a little less careful than she had been with her previous two babbehs.

-This foal, a colt, had sustained major burns to a large portion of it’s face and head just after it’s birth. Whatever skin and fluff that it did have there had now decayed into bloody singed flesh, leaving hardened masses in place of the melted fluff patches and a tiny flesh lump where it’s ear once sat. The burn stretched down it’s face just above it’s little noseie. It’s eye was no doubt completely destroyed, meaning the foal would never have vision in it.
What tiny patches of fluff remained were soft tones of red velvet and a muted cream color.

This foal, like his sibling, had a tiny bump on it’s forehead. Though not nearly as pronounced as his brother’s, he still had a horn. The mare gently cleaned the foals burn wounds, occasionally gagging or spitting dead skin out of her mouth before moving on to the rest of it’s tiny body. Just as she was about to finish, her tongue brushes against something that sends chills up her injured body. As she gave it’s back licky cleanies, her tongue laps over two small pointy protrusions sticking out from it’s back. This colt had a tiny featherless pair of wingies.

The mare once again breaks down into a fit of sobs. This chirpie babbeh is a wingie-pointy fluffy, just like her special friend was. She sobs as memories of her special friend being eaten by a giant vroom-vroom munstah fill her tiny head. Her first foal lays limp on her milkie place, failing to latch on like it’s sibling who now violently thrashed and hit it’s tiny hoofies against his mother’s milkie place in a desperate attempt to get as much sweet warm milkies as it possibly could.

She looks down at her burned foal as it dangles from her hoofies in front of her. She carefully pushes her knocked out foal away from her milkie place and places her other babbeh’s mouth against the duct. When it didn’t immediately latch on and instead opted to continue crying in pain, the mare decides to push it’s tiny chirping mouth against the teat in an attempt to get it to start feeding.

“Why wittiw huwtie chiwpie babbeh nu’ dwink miwkies? Am bad miwkies? Nu’ wike Mummahs miwkies?”

The mare begins to break down. Two of her babbehs werent drinking any milkies and the other wouldn’t stop giving her hurties while he drank his. She tried desperately over and over again to get either of the two foals to drink any milkies, but one simply slept away and the other was in too much pain to realize it had food right in front of it’s little face.

All she could do was scoop her foals back into her hoofies for huggies, ripping her still feeding foal away from it’s suckling position. The sudden yanking motion ripping the nipple from the foals mouth causes an intense wave of pain to shoot through it’s still very sensitive gums. Two of the foals chirp and cry in pain and sadness while the third sits limp with it’s siblings in it’s mothers hoofies. Most fluffies would think hugs cure everything, but this mare knew better. She knew huggies wouldn’t take away the burnie hurties or wake up her sleeping foal, but at least she knew they could calm her foals down.

The warm huggies are effective at calming her babbehs down as the Mare notices the panicked chirping sink down to a quiet wimpering peep. She carefully places her burned baby back on her milky place, pushing it’s mouth right onto the nipple a little more aggressively than before. Though still panicked from it’s head suddenly being forced into a nice smelling place, the foal gently latches on before it begins greedily sucking down as much milk as it can. The first foal, sore gums and tummeh full of milkies, falls asleep next to his sleeping sister as his brother finishes his dinner.

Once all the foals have been fed, the mares empty milky places sagged down, completely emptied of whatever small amount of milk the mare could create from what little food it had eaten. Her third foal still had not had any milkies, but it could eat as soon as the mare had enough to eat again.

Her foals snoozed in her dirty fluff as the mare set to work piling things she could find around the set together to construct a warm nest. It had to be close enough to the fire to stay warm, but not close enough that it could catch on fire. She pulled a few empty burlap sacks together, piling them carefully into the inside of a large lawnmower bag before setting back out to find more material. Before she could finish the nest though, a familiar gurgling began building in her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time she made poopies, and looking around the shed she couldn’t find anywhere to make good poopies.

The bubbling in her tummeh begins to worsen as she can feel her insides begin to constrict against the pressure. She had to make poopies, SOON. Tears start soaking her cheek fluff again as she grows more and more desperate to find a place to make good poopies.

“HuuuHuuu!!! Nuuu!! Pweeze poopies, nu’ come out yet! Mummah’ nee fin’ pwace fow makin gud poopies!”

She pleaded with the massive wave of toxic sludge slowly making it’s way toward her clenched ass as the gurgling worsens further. She bounds from wall to wall now, searching every last inch of reachable space for somewhere she can make good poopies as panic begins to intensify. The poopies were coming, and the mare was powerless to stop them.

“NUUU!! PWEEZ TUMMEH, HOWD MUMMAH’S BAD POOPIES!! NU’ WAN MAK BAD POOPIES EN NESTIE!! HUUHUU PWEE-”

The mare’s cries of anguish are abruptly cut off by the sound of gurgling coming from her tummeh. Without a final thought, she dashes for a loose board at the bottom of one of the shed walls, crashing through it into the little tunnel that Tim had constructed with the old wood that had fallen off the shed two days earlier.

It was a damp cramped covered space with just enough room for the mare to shuffle her little fluffy body through that led to the edge of the shed foundation. The mare’s sphincter begins to contract as the first stream of liquid shit begins to slowly leak out. The mare huuhuus to herself a bit more before reaching the end of the old wood tunnel, turning around so her ass faces the far end just as the torrent of septic death being she was holding back comes flooding out from her tiny behind.

It came in waves, smacking against the already rotting wood directly behind the fluffy. The force causes backsplashes of liquid shit to become caked in the fluffie’s rump fluff and tail, puddling with her bad peepees under her injured squishy hoofies until she had completely voided herself. Once she was sure her business was concluded, the mare gave her shit caked tail a little shake before rubbing her matted crusty ass fluff on a different moist wall to wipe herself clean. She steps out of her puddle of biowaste, giving her little hoofies a shake to rid them of any extra bad poopies before squeezing her way back into the main area of the shed.

She carefully waddles over to the small fire to warm herself up a bit before continuing her quest to construct a warm nestie for her and her babbehs. Another hour passes and the mowerbag nest had come together quite nicely. A combination of empty burlap sacks, unused weeding carpet, and a dusty old saddle blanket had made a rather effective and very cozy nestie. It was only missing one thing to make sure it stayed nice and warm just in case the fire went away. The mare gently pats the now scabbed over bald spot on her side where a large chunk of her fluff used to be. She glances over at the frozen puddle of shit, piss, and blood that now tightly held her missing fluff.

She couldn’t add any of her remaining fluff to the nest or else she’d freeze to death, fire or not. Her only option was to try to get the fluff frozen to the ground unstuck. Mustering up her remaining energy, the mare carefully dumps her foals into a little fluff pile back in the her nest before slowly clopping over to the frozen chunk of dead skin and fluff.

She managed to pull a little bit of fluff off the top of the pile with her teeth, but it wasn’t nearly enough to finish her nest. She needed all the fluff that sat frozen to the ground before her, and she needed to think of a way to get it. She tried and failed over and over again to dislodge any fluff from the frozen feces puddle, but to no avail. She had to figure out how to melt puddle if she wanted to get the fluff.

A look of despair slowly spread across her face as the realization of what needs to be done dawns on her tiny fluffy brain. With the image of her babbehs freezing and taking forever sleepies burned into her brain, the mare holds her breath as she lowers her head down to the ground, licking the frozen biowaste pile around the fluff in an attempt to melt it free.

She audibly gags multiple times, taking tons of breaks to drink wawa out of the flower pot or to dry-heave from the horrible not pretty taste. Chunks of shit begin to melt free around the fluff, caking the mare’s muzzle in putrid smelling bile as she continues her gut-wrenching goal until-

POP

With a sickening suction like noise, the clump of soiled shit stained fluff pops free, releasing a cloud of the most horrible vile smelling gas you could imagine. The smell quickly fills the sheds tiny space as the mare happily clops back to her nestie, satisfied with her work. Stepping carefully around her children, the mare pushes the dirty fluff into place, finishing her nest construction project after an entire day of horrible tasting work.

She walks a few circles around her nest, pressing down a little indentation she can use as a resting place in the middle of all her nesting material. Her chirping foals, now risen from their naps, chirp and cry out from tummeh hurties caused by a lack of milk. Even the sleepy babbeh is finally awake, but lacks the energy to do more than just wiggle and softly peep from time to time. The mare turns her head, wrinkling her noseie a bit as she forces herself to take a bite of the rotting hay that she had found tucked in a broken bucket while looking for nesting supplies.

The rotten hay had the worstest not pretty taste the mare had ever experienced, but she forced herself to consume it regardless. Her babbehs needed more milkies. She had just enough nummies to make enough milk for about two more dark times before she needed to find another source of food. Until then, she continues to force down the horrible nummies to make more milkies for her chirping babbehs. As she feels them taking turns latching and unlatching to her partially filled milkie places, she can’t help but let herself drift off to sleep. Her babbehs had tummehs full of milkies, and she had a safe warm nestie to watch them grow big and strong in.

As she slips away into slumber, the mares final thoughts are of her babbehs all grown up, eating the bestes’ nummies and playing together outside in vibrant green field. The foals pass out in a small pile above her deflated crotch tits, and the mare slips into a deep sleep with a tear stained smile on her face.

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<3

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I’m with Tim on this one. I wanna see where this goes.

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This is some great stuff, can’t wait for the next one!

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I wonder which one will bite the big one first.

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