Author:SadismIsMagic666 abuse day-by-day foals-as-food foals-die psycholgical_abuse questionable sadbox

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"Poor Mummah"
Day 1:

Came home from local fluffy store with another pregnant mare. Leave her in the carrier on the kitchen table, and go down to the basement. Slushy still crying and begging for death. slap him hard across the face, knocking out three teeth and breaking his nose. Leaving him sobbing in pain, I take out a little project I've been working on. Leave basement, turning out the lights while Slushy sobs about "Dawkies Scawy" and "Wan Mummah" and "Wan Die!" Usual shit. Go back upstairs. Mare is demanding food. I ignore her and take some raw spaghetti out of the cupboard. Begin cooking it. Mare is excitedly hopping around squealing "Sketties! Bestest Sketties!" as I cook. Tempted to throw her in the pot, but don't. Finish cooking spaghetti, and serve in a bowl with meatballs (my favourite). The mare is still hopping around excitedly, cooing to her "tummeh babehs" about "bestest nummies". Fucking fluffy-speak. She is confused when I place the bowl on the table. "Daddeh, put sketties down! Soon-mummah nu can weach bestest sketties!" she says. I ignore her again, and get a fork from the drawer. She's getting impatient now. "Daddeh! Gib sketties NAO! Tummeh babbehs am gettin hunwy!" she whines. I continue as if she isn't there. I then start eating the spaghetti myself. "W-Wah? N-Nu num sketties! Sketties fow tummeh babehs an soon-mummah!" the mare yells. I then speak up. "I didn't say it was for you, did I?" I mumble through a mouthful of spaghetti. This angers her. "NUUU! NOT 'OU SKETTI!" she screams stomping her hooves in rage. I take a long strand and slowly eat it in front of her. That does it. "NUUUUUUUUUUUU! GIB SKETTI! GIB BESTEST SKETTIES! NOT FOW 'OU!" She screams, charging at me (waddling an her fat belly), and biting me and hitting me with her hooves. I stand up and grab her by the tail. "EEEEEE! BAD UPSIES! UPSIES BAD FOW TUMMEH-BABEHS!" She cries. I open the back door and throw her onto the patio, making sure she lands on her back, and not on her pregnant belly. She screams in pain for a bit, before lifting herself back up and charging at the open door. I slam the glass door in her face, and she hits her nose a hard. I then sit back down and resume eating the bowl of spaghetti. She goes completely ballistic, banging and screaming on the door as she watches me eat the whole bowl right in front of her. Her screams die down to sobs, as she sinks against the glass door, sobbing uncontrollably. I finish the bowl, licking my lips, and put the empty bowl right in front of the glass door. The mare continues to sob to her unborn foals in her womb that "Daddeh am munstah" and "Nu gif nummies fow bestest soon-mummah"
2 hours pass, it's getting dark. Mare still outside, now starting to whine about "Gettin' dawkies" and "Is cowd. Nee gu in wawm housie". I walk over to the patio door. "Because of your behaviour, you can sleep out there tonight!" I say, grinning. The mare starts to scream and bang on the glass again as I leave the room and turn off the light, leaving her out in the cold, dark backyard patio for the night. "NUUUUU! NU WIKE DAWKIES AN IS COWD! COWD AM BAD FOW TUMMEH BABEHS!" She sobs. I ignore her and go to bed.



Day 2:

Wake up. Coffee. I check on the mare. She's shivering and sobbing about "wowstest tummeh owwies". I laugh. Throw a handful of dry kibble out the back. She whines about needing "bestest nummies fow tummeh babehs" but eventually just eat the kibble, feeling sorry for herself. 4:00. Decide to let her back in. Doesn't even thank me, little shit, and plops down on a cushion in the living room and starts singing that earbleeding "Mummah" song.
Babbehs Wuv Mummah,
Mummah Wuv Babbehs,
Gif aww da nummie miwkies
gwow up big an' smawty.
Fucking kill me.
Rest of day goes by without much incident



Day 3:

"BIGGEST POOPIES! HAF OWWIES!! SCREEEEE!" wakes me up. I check my phone. 3:00 in the morning. I really hate fluffies. I run into my living room. The little bitch shat on my carpet, and is giving birth on my pillow. I really hate her. Her and that porcelain frog my mother gave me. Fuck both of 'em. I crouch over her, and take the wet, chirping newborn foals in my hand as they come out. When she's finally done, three foals lie chirping in my hand. The mother is getting frantic now. "Gif babbehs! Gif! GIF!" she cries. But I don't. I start to walk away from her, into the kitchen. "Whuh... Whewe daddeh goin? GIF BABBEHS! GIF BABBEHS NAO!!!!!" She cries, to weak from labour to get up. I place the foals on one side of my "project": A glass box the size of a fishtank, devided down the middle by a glass wall. I place the hungry, chirping foals in the cold glass surface, as they wriggled and squirmed. Go back to living room. Mare is a little more energised, frantically hopping around crying "WHEWE BABBEHS?! BABEHS NEE' MIWKIES!!!". Pick her up by the scruff, and carry her to the kitchen, as she screams about "BAD UPSIES!". I place her in the same side of the box as her foals, and she instantly grabs them, causing them to screee in pain. She latches two of them on her teats, while hugging the other. I throw a handful of kibble in there, and leave for the day.

Day 4:

Mare is happily cooing to her foals, who have already opened their eyes and said their first words. Fucking QUICK. I leave them for another hour. Come back, and the mare is happily watching her foals play. None of them seem to care about the glass box. Oh, but they will. I suddenly yank up the mare roughly, and throw her in the other side of the box. She screams about the pain, while the foals whine about it being "scawy!". Mare gets up, and runs to her foals to give them "huggies". Hits her fat fucking face off the glass. Cries about "owwies" while her stupid foals cry for her. She tries to reach her foals over and over, each time faceplanting the glass. The sheer unbridled stupidity of these creatures is incredible. She starts to cry. "Huuu, huuuu... Nu unduwstan.... Wai can nu get to babbehs?" she sobs while her foals cry. "Mummah, wan huggies!" "Wan miwkies!" "Babbeh wan upsies, mummah!". I laugh at this pathetic little display. Leave for work. Come home. Mare is sobbing her eyes out while her foals are chirping from hunger. She sobs about wanting to "Gib babbehs huggies" to "make bad owwies gu way". I throw another handful of kibble and thimble of water in the mare's side, and go to bed.

Day 5:
Wake up. Mare is on her back, telling her foals to "get miwkies". Foals are too weak from malnourishment to move, and their breathing is laboured. The mare begs me to help, "nu wan bestest babbehs gu fowevah sweepies! Nee miwkies fow gwow big an' stwong!". Her udders are painfully swollen. I tell her "If you want your babehs to have milk, go over to them and give it to them! Why aren't you feeding your babies? What a horrible mother you are!". Mare gets up, painfully from her swollen tits, and weakly tries to reach her starving foals. Every time she hits the glass, I yell at her what a horrible mother she is, refusing to feed her babies. She eventually breaks down and cries, from both the horrible pain in her tits, and from the emotional scarring she's enduring. I laugh at her, long and loud, and go to bed.

Day 6:
Wake up. Foals are dead. Mare is in hysterics. "HUUUUU!!! WHY BABBEHS NU MAKE CHIWPEHS NO MOA? HUUU, BESTEST BABBEHS TAKE FOWEVAH SWEEPIES! WAN DIE! WAN DIE! WAN DIE!" she cries. I point a finger at her like a pistol. "How COULD you be so horrible?! All your little babies wanted was milk and love from their mother, and you wouldn't even give them that? Your not just a bad mummah, your a MONSTER!" I yell. "HUUUUUU, HUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!! WAN DIE WAN DIE WAN DIE WAN DIE WAN DIE!!!" She screams, both from her emotional trauma, and from her bloated udder pains. I laugh at her, before scooping up her dead foals, and throwing them into the mare's box. She sobs uncontrollaby while cradling her dead foals. She tearfully starts to sing to their corpses.

B-Babbehs take fowevah sweepies
G-gu tu skettiwand nao.....
Mummah w-wuv babbehs....
Wuv yu fowevah....

She tearfully finishes her tone-deaf song, hugging her dead babies. I laugh at her, before snatching the dead foals away from her. "You stupid little shits. There is no skettiland. Your babies are dead forever, and that's it. And it's ALL YOUR FAULT" I hiss, before grabbing the emotionally destroyed mare by the jaw, and forcing open her mouth. I then shove the dead foals down her throat, before holding her mouth shut. She cries and gags, but refuses to swallow her babies. I pinch her nose, and eventually she was no choice but to swallow the corpses. I let of her nose, and she vomits inside her own mouth, which she is also forced to swallow. I carry the box with the wretching, crying mare down into the basement, and put her on the desk next to Slushy. They both cry and beg for death. Haha, nope. I turn off the lights and leave the basement once again. Enjoy a cup of coffee. What a great week.




Uploader SadismIsMagic666,
Tags Author:SadismIsMagic666 abuse day-by-day foals-as-food foals-die psycholgical_abuse sadbox
Rating questionable
Source Unknown
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Comments


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SadismIsMagic666: I know the story format is a little different, but I needed to dish something out quickly before lunch, so... Fuck you.
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Anonymous1: I really like it a lot
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Anonymous2: Finally some decent story on this god forsaken shithole..........
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ChojinPatriarch: I remember this scenario from an Artist-kun picture. Did https://www.fluffybooru.org/post/view/13137 inspire you, or was it coincidental?
Either way, It's nicely done. Psychological abuse is always funny.
As for formatting, line breaks are your friend. Though if this was typed up on a phone or similar, I can understand the challenge.
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Anonymous3: You are now my favorite person on this website. These stories are great.

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SadismIsMagic666: @ChojinPatriarch: As a matter of fact, this is what the full story of that image, in my eyes, would be.