The first two weeks have passed. Both of the foals eyes were open, ready to see the world.
“Cawwot open peepsies? Big wed peepsies! Hewwo Cawwot! Mummah wubs 'ou sooooo muchies!”
A few hours later…
“Soda open peepsies too? Big bwue peepsies! Hi Soda! Mummah wubs 'ou too!”
Carrot grew a short coat of orange baby-fluff, while Soda grew a long plush coat and his yellow spots became more prominent. Carrot learned to speak in full sentences pretty early, a sure sign of smarty syndrome, while Soda could only chirp and huu-huu-huu.
Scarlet and the foals woke up to another day in their saferoom, the foals suckling from their mummah’s tits for breakfast.
“Dummie bwuddah! Stop steawin’ miwkies! 'Ou too big and fat fow miwkies! Give miwkies now ow get wowstest sowwy hoofsies!”, Carrot huffed at Soda, puffing his cheeks out. Soda couldn’t do anything but cry.
“REEEEEE!!! HUU-HUU-HUU-HUU!!!”, he screamed.
“Meanie Cawwot! Be nice to Soda! He a sensitib babbeh!”, Scarlet snapped.
“But mummaaaahhhh!!! Pwease give mowe miwkies! Cawwot get not 'nuff miwkies! Have biggest wowstest tummy owwies!”, Carrot complained.
The hoomans came to work at the fluffymart bright and early, already hearing the sad and angry cheeps from the foals.
“Ugh, annoying little shitrats, both of them. Carrot already learned to talk, fuckin smartass.”, said one. “To make things worse Soda’s a fat fuck hogging all the milk and shitting and pissing everywhere. Must be one of those dumbass forever chirpies…”, said another.
A hugboxer hooman opened the cage and took Carrot to the “special care room”.
“Ohhhh Carrot, poor baby. Let’s get you some milkies.” She soothed while pouring a bottle of cow’s milk into a bowl. After that, the hugboxer walked away to use the bathroom and have a smoke break. While she wasn’t looking, an abuser hooman put a weird white powder in the milk.
“That little shit was so happy, let’s see how he likes this!”, he laughed.
A few minutes later, the hugboxer put the bowl in front of Carrot, he happily lapped up the replacement milkies.
“Yummy! Those miwkies were weawwy gud! Cawwot soooo fuww! Have biggest heawt happies! Tank 'ou nice wady!”
5 o’clock rolls around and the foals are playing as nice as a meanie smarty and a sensitive baby can play.
“Wet’s pway Tumbwyfwuff, Soda! Cawwot push, and Soda go tumbwies! Wun, too, fwee! TUMBWYFWUFF!!! WHEEEEE!!!”
Carrot pushed his obese brother as hard as he could, but before he could make a full rotation Soda started crying and chirping all scaredy.
“Hey hey! Pway nice wif Soda! He sensitib! Soda nu wike Tumbwyfwuff!”, Scarlet warned.
8’o clock rolls around and it was time for the fluffymart to close up shop. After both the foals drank their last milkies from mummah’s crotchtits, and Carrot ate his first ever kibbles, and a quick game of ball, it was time for sleepies.
“Gud nightie mummah, gud nightie Soda, Cawwot has nevew been so happy…!”, he chirped. He sang a happy song to himself, and slowly drifted off to sleep…
Until…
At 3 in the morning, his tummy growled very loudly, waking up mummah and Soda in an instant!
“Huh? Cawwot? You otay?”, Scarlet asked.
“TUMMY HAB SO MANY OWWIES!!! POOPIE PWACE HUWTIES!!! NEED TO MAKE POOPIES!!! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” Was it the lactose in the cow milk, or was it the weird powder that tainted it? Or a cursed combination of both? Either way, Carrot frantically ran around the cage, round and round in circles, desperately trying to hold in his hurtie sickie poopies. All the commotion caused Soda to panic and let out some scaredy poopies. Seeing his brother make scaredy poopies made Carrot’s urge to poop even stronger. He clenched his poopie-place as hard as he could to try and stop the inevitable flow to come.
“No! Cawwot nee’ to be gud babbeh and howd poopies tiww bwite-time! Nu wan be bad babbeh, but tummy hab owwies soooooo much!”, Carrot yelped.
“Nu Cawwot! Nu howd poopies! Wet it go! If Cawwot howd poopies it wiww make 'ou wowstest sickies! Wet it go!”, Scarlet yelped.
“But mummah, dat mean Cawwot have to make b-b-b-BAD POOPIES!!! HUU-HUU-HUU!!!”
“Wet da poopies go Cawwot! Nu wan be bad babbeh, but nu wan 'ou to be wowstest sickies! Wet. It. Go!!!”
“Otay mummah… Cawwot…wiww wet poopies out… Nu can howd it nu mowe…”
Carrot gave a little push… and…
SHART!!!
“BIGGES’ WOWSTEST POOPIE HUWTIES!!! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! OWWIEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!! HUWTIEEEEEEEEEESSSS!!! WHY POOPIES GIVE CAWWOT HUWTIES!!!”
The poop-splosion splattered all over the walls of the cage, Carrot cried and screamed for his mummah to give him huggies, while poor Soda could only watch in horror. After the longest, most agonizing 10 minutes of his life, Carrot finally stopped making hurtie sickie wawa poopies.
“Huuuuuuuu-huuuu-huuu… Tummy nu feew huwties nu mowe… (sniffle) (gag!) (koff!) Safe woom nu smeww pwetty… Huu…huu…huu…”
Tough luck, Carrot…