abandoned author:westmesafluffcollector dummeh_babbeh feral foal_abuse foals infection questionable teenagers the_family


The Family
Chapter Four

The next morning…

The three foals had migrated a couple of blocks from where the previous day’s carnage had taken place. Albuquerque Sanitation had had a field day when they came upon the remains of the five ferals, requiring the power washer to remove much of the caked in blood from the asphalt. Fortunately, Blue was able to find space from behind a dumpster that the three of them could hide comfortably.

Luck was holding for the trio, as the location had turned out to be a good one. The Starbucks patio provided them with a ready source of napkins to create a makeshift bed out of, as well as enough shelter to be somewhat hidden from the view of potential predators. The patio even provided a ready source of scraps, as customers were often careless with how well they disposed of their unfinished food once they were done.

Blue had come back earlier with the morning’s forage, a muffin bottom and two cookies that had fallen out of the trash. It was a decent haul, one that he was thankful to have, considering the change in circumstances since yesterday.

Out of the three foals, Blue was now the only one that was able to move and think on his own. Yellow was set up in the corner with the majority of the discarded napkins to give her comfort. However, mobility hadn’t returned to her hind legs, and she had been rather lethargic the night before.

Green, following his head injury, was now absolutely useless as a nummie finder. The one time he had attempted to help he find food only resulted in him returning with a somewhat horse shaped piece of concrete that he had dubbed “bwockey bwuddah.” “Bwockey” was now snuggling next to him in the fluff pile. Aside from his ability to carry Yellow over longer distances than Blue could, that was the extent of his contributions.

Blue briefly lapped out of a puddle of water that had collected under the outdoor spigot of the building, which was used for cleaning and hosing off the patio.

He was in a bad spot. He was stuck with a pair of siblings that were unable to take care of themselves. Yellow still couldn’t move her back weggies, and Green, although much more pleasant to be around, was now unable to take care of himself.

Blue thought back bitterly to the days when their mother was with them. Green had been his mummah’s bestest baby, the one who got all of the attention, the lion’s share of the miwkies, and the most luv and hugs. She had always told the three of them that Green was going to be “da bestest smawteh babbeh, goin to haf big huwd one day.” Out of the three foals, it should have been him to have taken charge. It was what he was raised for.

Instead, things had gone a completely different way. It had been Blue that had to motivate his siblings to keep going, to continue moving, to stay together as much as he could. It had been up to Blue to look for food, and try to stay out of trouble. It had been him that now had to try and mend fences between the two siblings.

Yellow sissy was still annoyed with Blue for not only going back for their previously unpleasant sibling, and his now considerably challenged brother, but also for encouraging her to try her best to forgive him. Green really seemed like a completely different colt. He was happy, pleasant, and wanted to please his other siblings. In reality, he was. The shock and terror of the previous day had erased all of his memories from his foalhood. Any memory of their mother and his previous upbringing was gone.

Dark thoughts creeped into his head, thoughts he didn’t like to acknowledge. Would he be better off...abandoning his siblings and taking care of himself? Yellow might not ever move her leggies again, and Green was, well, an idiot. If he didn’t accidentally kill himself, he might accidentally get the rest of them killed along with him.

Almost as quickly as it crept into his head, the thought was gone. Blue looked away, feeling guilty. No, he couldn’t leave them. His family was all he had left. If he were to abandon his siblings, he would be no better than their mother, whom he still had no idea what had happened to.

I was getting closer to the busy time at the coffee shop. He needed to hide. Blue trotted back to the Starbucks, guilt still following him like a shadow.


“Bwuddah! Sissy nu wan pway with fwuffy!!” Green said, upon Blue walking back behind the dumpster.

Blue sighed in frustration. It was the same thing as the day before. Green had attempted to play with his sister, only to be reprimanded when he accidentally stepped on her foot. Blue had told him he couldn’t be so rough with her, due to her condition. He had probably forgotten again.

Yellow was still on her side at the back of the nestie. She was probably pouting again about having to put up with her formerly “stoopie meanie bwudda.” He would have to go and mend fences again.

It was only when he got closer that Blue realized something was wrong. He saw that the muffin bottom he had left for her was untouched. Plus, her breathing, which had been slow the night before, was now starting to sound a bit labored. Fear started tickling the back of the colt’s head again.

Checking her, he found her to be responsive, but sleepy. It was only when he got closer to her, thought that he smelt it. A scent that was slightly bitter, and slightly sweet, like rotten fruit. It was only when he looked at her legs that he realized what was happening. Yellow’s legs were starting to developing greenish patches from where her wounds from her attack were. Some of the surrounding fluff was also turning brownish-grey, like a spoiled orange.

Blue walked over to his brother, to try and tell him to stay with his sister, when he stopped.

The same smell was starting to come off of his brother too. Blue looked down and saw that the area around his now wrecked no-no pwaces were starting to swell. Blue realized, to his dawning horror, what this likely meant.

Blue looked straight at his brother. “Gweeny bwuddah, stay wif sissy. Fwuffy gu find hewp.”

Green smiled. “Otay! Bwocky bwuddah hewp wif sissy tu?”

Blue rolled his eyes. “...yus….”

“Otay!” Green said, walking over, with a limp, Blue noticed, to his sister to try and get her to play with him once again.


Blue scurried out of the alley. Something was wrong his his siblings, something bad. Whatever that nu pwetty smell was, it was having an effect on Yellow, and would probably start affecting Green too.

Almost a lifetime ago, Blue remembered his mother telling them about how “huggies and wuf” fixed everything in a fluffy. Secretly, though, Blue had never believed it, especially after witnessing his first alleyway attack as a young ‘splowin babbeh. Whatever it was that was affecting his siblings, Blue knew it was far beyond whatever meager abilities fluffies on their own had. The programing in the little fluffy’s mind immediately cued the little colt to what he had to do: if he wanted to help his sister and brother, he needed the help of humans.

Blue was hesitant, though. His only two encounters with humans had been horrible ones, and both of which saw fluffies being brutally killed. By trying to find a human to help him, he risked himself getting “wowstest huwties” or even worse, “fowebbah sweepies.” If something happened to him, his sister and brother were likely to die without him.

Then again, if he did nothing, his sister and brother were likely to die anyway, and would leave him alone.

Blue breathed in deeply, gazing at the patio. His odds weren’t great. But if he wanted to make sure his siblings saw beyond foalhood, he only had one real shot at it.

Mustering what courage he had, Blue trotted over to the Starbucks patio.


“Scoose me, nice wady. Hwep fwuffy?”

A old woman looked down as she was exiting the Starbucks to see a small blue fluffy colt with violet eyes and light violet mane. He was looking up at her pleadingly.

“Oh, look at you, you little cutie pie. I’d take you home, but my own fluffy doesn’t like to share her momma.” The old woman put half an oatmeal cookie in his mouth. “You’re so polite. Here you go.” She patted him on the head before walking off.

Blue munched on the cookie, confused. This...wasn’t what he wanted. Still, free nummies were free nummies, especially since he had done without because of his siblings needs. Still, he wasn’t dead. And he didn’t have huwties. He decided to try again, although he noted rather sadly that the cookie had given him cottonmouth.

Blue visited with a few more random passers by in the patio. A nice pair of hoomin mawes told him he was pwetty before walking off. A man in a business suit ignored him. One more hoomin mawe told him to “Get the fuck away from me, you diseased little shit rat before I kick you.” as she walked off to her Mercedes. Blue looked down sadly. He needed to find some help fast, as he wasn’t sure how much longer his siblings would hold on for.

Blue saw the door open up again, and saw a tall, thin figure dressed in black sit down. He was taking out one of those tawkie boxies that the hoomins would always have in their not-hoofsies to talk to other hoomins too. He had a long yellow mane, that was covered up by a stocking cap on top of his head. He was drinking the black wawas that he had seen other hoomins drinking outside. He wasn’t an old hoomin, but maybe he would be willing to help.

Blue walked over to him cautiously. The morning hadn’t been a hugely successful one thus far, and he needed to be ready to run in case this went badly. He looked up and spoke “Scuse me, nice hoomin. Can hoomin pwease hewp fwuffy?”

The teenager looked down at the blue foal. “I ain’t gonna be your daddy, shitrat.” He went back to his phone.

Blue persisted. “Pwease nice hoomin. Fwuffy nee hewp fo bwuddah and sissy. Have huwties.”

The teenager looked down at the blue foal with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. “Did you say that your brother and sister had hurties?”

Blue nodded. “Yus. Bwuddah and sissy nee hewp o go fowebbah sweepies.”

The teenager put his feet up on the table. “Well, if you want help, I need to know first: are you a good fluffy?”

Blue nodded vigorously. “Fwuffy twy to be bested fwuffy fo bwuddah an sissy.”

The teen smiled. “Only good fluffies can get help from humans. So I need to ask you again, are you a good fluffy.”

Blue nodded. “Yus.”

The teen reached over and picked up Blue roughly, causing the small foal to peep in pain. “Good. Fluffies that think they have value are always the best to have fun with.” The teen smiled even wider. “It’s even better when I help them go ‘fowebbah sweepies.’”

Blue began to struggle. “Nu! Nu wan gu fowebbah sweepies! Onwy ask fo hewp for bwuddah and sissy.”

The teen began to squeeze a little tighter, causing the foal pain and discomfort. “Oh, I’ll be helping you alright.” He began to giggle. It had been a while since he had tortured a foal. He had almost forgotten how much he loved them when they began to plead for mercy. It was like a drug for him.

Blue began to panic. His tummy was getting lots of hurties, and he had made scawedy peepees and poopies from when the hoomin munstah gave him bad upsies. But he couldn’t tell him where his bwuddah and sissy were. He couldn’t. He had to keep them safe.


“Excuse me, sir.”

Steve Brooks, the manager on duty at Starbucks that morning, looked up to see a young mother and her two children. It was strange, as the two children had what looked like tears in their eyes. “What can I get for you, ma’am?” Steve said with a smile, hoping that this wasn’t a customer service complaint.

The mother shook her head. “I don’t want anything. But it looks like someone is trying to kill a fluffy pony on your patio, and my kids are starting to freak out a bit.”

Steve looked over to see the tall, skinny teen in black, with blonde hair. He immediately scowled. The little brat was a regular, mostly coming in to get a free cup of water, and use the Wifi while he played Fortnite for hours on end. However, the kid was more of a nuisance when it came to the fluffies that occasionally visited the area for food. The kid had found all sorts of ways to try and abuse the little bastards on property, the most memorable being dipping foals in hot coffee while the mother watched, and shoving a biscotti up another one’s anus before letting it loose in the store.

The final straw for Steve had been when the kid was shooting bottle rockets with foals attached to them at cars in the Drive Thru on the Fourth of July. The kid had given him lip, and returned with his mother, who promptly gave him hell over targeting her “sweet child” who never would hurt a fly. He still managed to get a promise from the mother to not have him come back to this location. Evidently, he didn’t listen, as it looked like he was going to do some bad shit to a blue foal outside.

Steve looked back at the mother and her two kids. He had a pretty full house, and to make matters worse, one of his baristas called in sick, meaning he couldn’t just walk outside and handle the situation. Which meant a potential complaint, as well as some customers who would now be witnessing a public gore show not seen outside of the dark web.

Thankfully, a low voice came to his rescue.

“Want me to take care of it, Steve?”

Steve looked over to see a tall, lean man, with strong, slightly handsome features. He looked somewhat Native, but his bright blue eyes and light brown hair gave away his french ancestry. He was wearing his Bureau of Land Management uniform, and had just paid for a large, venti cup of black coffee.

“Could you, Bobby? I know you’re not on duty, but….”

Robert Morningstar took a sip from his coffee. “Don’t worry about it. I’d hate to see the kids get upset.” He nodded towards the kids and their mother before heading over towards the door.


Blue was panicking. “Pwease nu huwt, fwuffy. Onwy want hewp for bwuddah and sistew!” Blue pleaded, tears coming from his eyes. Why did the teen hate him so much? Why did he want to hurt him so much? He hadn’t asked him for anything. Only help. And now, it appeared, his worst fears were going to come true. Sowwy bwuddah and sissy, Blue thought.

“Oh, I’ll be helping your brother and sister, shitrat!” The teenager said with a smile on his face. “First, I’m going to take your ‘weggies’ off until you tell me where they are. Then, I’m going to tear them apart slowly in front of you, and make you eat them, piece by piece. And then, when you are saying how you want to die, I’m going to make you suffer.”

Something in the little Blue foal snapped. He had been trying to plead with the teen to let him go, and had even begun to resign himself to his fate. But this threat on his family, on his siblings, caused something in him to roar to the surface. Rage.

“Nuuu! Nu huwt bwuddah or sissy!” Blue yelled, and with surprising energy, bit the teenagers hand.

The teenager was livid. “Did you just fuckin bite me, you little shit?” He raised his arm, ready to scatter the little shit’s brains across the Starbuck’s patio floor.

At least, he would have, had something hard not suddenly grabbed his arm, and held it firm.

“Put the fluffy down.” A low voice said, firmly and with authority.

“Oh yeah, who the fuck are...OW!!!!” The teen screeched as he felt the wrist get tighter and a wave of fluffy shit trickle down his wrist from the now equally scared creature.

“I told you, put the fluffy down. Gentle like.” The voice said. The owner of the voice moved the teen’s arm down to the nearby table.

“Fuck, okay!” The teen said, letting the small fluffy drop onto the table, with it letting out a small “owsies” as it landed a bit roughly.

The teen turned, to see who it was that had stopped him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He said, before stopping. He was starting face first into a Bureau of Land Management Badge, pinned to the chest of a absolutely massive Native looking guy. He swallowed hard. This guy had at least a foot, and at least 50 pounds on him.

Bobby stared hard at the kid, a stare that would melt ice cubes, the one he only reserved for poachers. “Technically, BLM doesn’t have a mandate to protect fluffy ponies. That being said, kid, you are causing a disturbance, and since this isn’t your first time doing it here, I’m willing to be that you’ll get a ticket at least, or a trip to juvie at the worst. If you choose to fight either, we would probably be forced to show the security cam footage from that camera over there.” The officer pointed to the surveillance camera, with right hand. It was then that the teen noticed that all this time, the guy was basically restraining him with only on hand, his left, while his right hand reached back over for his venti cup of coffee that looked comically tiny in his hand.

“The manager has Albuquerque PD on speed dial, and if I know APD, they aren’t going to be exactly gentle with you. And if I know the judges, and I do know quite a few, many of them do see fluffy abuse as almost akin to animal abuse. Which means you probably won’t be going home really soon. At best, you’ll be in county for a spell, or at worst, you’d probably end up at one of the military academies, especially if you get a judge that is dirty and on the take of one of the private ones.” Bobby took a swig from his cup. “So, my advice to you, is to get the hell out of here, before the manager gets a bit trigger happy on calling the cops, and take your angsty rage shit indoors or elsewhere from now on.”

The teen glared daggers at the officer. On one hand, he could try and kill the fluffy to spite this hugboxing prick, and have his parent’s fight it out in court. On the other hand, he had heard tales of the Acoma Mesa Military Academy, and was not keen on chancing it. He would be meat by the end of the first week. Pushing himself away from the BLM officer, the teen shouted, “Go ahead and keep the shitrat, you fucking Hugboxing faggot!” He grabbed his board, threw both fingers at the officer, and skated off.


Blue was still shaken up, having come close to getting himself “fowebbah sweepied.” The hoomin munstah had left, but he after seeing how scared the munstah had been, he wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just traded one munstah for another.

Meanwhile, Bobby heard the door of the Starbucks open, and saw Steve come out. “Thanks again, Bobby. If you hadn’t taken care of it, that lady and her kids over there probably would have called corporate. The last thing Seattle wants to hear is about traumatized kids freaking out after seeing a fluffy get it’s brains scattered all across the place.”

Bobby shook his hand. “Don’t worry about, Steve. It’s the least I can do.”

Steve looked over at the table, where the little pony was now looking at the two of them with curiosity. “Ummm, could you also get rid of the thing? Before someone else comes?”

Bobby looked back over at the foal. “Sure thing.”


Blue looked up at the massive human. He had gone up to different ones earlier, hoping for one that would help him. This one, without him asking, saved him from getting fowebbah sweepies. If he had helped him once, maybe he would help him again. It wouldn’t hurt to ask one more time.

“Pwease nice mistuh? Hewp fwuffy’s bwuddah and sissy?”

Bobby frowned. “Oh no.” He brought the little blue foal up to eye level. “Look, I did you a solid. I saved you from getting smashed by that edgy teen, who is probably going to bitch about the whole thing on Snapchat later, before yelling at foreigners on Call of Duty later. I’ve done enough.” He put the foal on the grown. “Go home.”

Blue wasn’t going to give up. “But fwuffy nu have homsie. Onwy haf bwuddah and sissy, and they nee hewpsies. Haf sickies.”

Bobby looked down. “I already said no. Go back to your mother, little guy.” Bobby had been walking over to his motorcycle and sidecar that had been parked in the lot. He was, quite frankly exhausted after a especially long time in the field. He was ready to head home.

“But fwuffy nu have mummah nu mowe.”

Bobby stopped. Something about the last statement hit Bobby home, likely because Bobby himself had been on his own since the age of five. The last memory he had of his mother was him screaming for her to come back after she had given him up for adoption. Come to think of it, foals aren’t usually far from their mother. Usually, the mother, at the first sign of danger, would have been pleading for the life of her foal, unless they were the ones that sacrificed their foals at the first sign of danger, which also wasn’t uncommon.

Blue looked up at Bobby, sadness in his eyes. “Mummah weave fwuffy many bwight times agu. Onwy have bwuddah and sissy weft. Nu knuw wha happen tu mummha.”

Bobby sighed. He wasn’t a man of stone, in spite of how much he disliked how messy these motherfuckers where when he encountered them at his job. With that being said, he felt a certain responsibility for this foal. The least he could do was take him to a shelter, where he could have a shot at a decent existence, or at least, as decent as a feral could expect.

Bobby looked toward Blue, and told him, firmly “Stay here.” Bobby walked inside the Starbucks and emerged later with a pair of old aprons Steve had given him. Sure enough, the colt had waited patiently for him to return.

“Okay, where are your brother and sister?”

Coming Up In Chapter Five: Nameless No More….


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RevMe: I'm really digging this story! Good job!
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CwinicawDepwession: Good shit still my dood
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Gardel: >especially if you get a judge that is dirty and on the take of one of the private ones.”

Is this a thing over there? judges taking bribes to send kids to these military schools?
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LORD: I think green probably will live but yellow is going to die because of the infection
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WestMesaFluffCollector: @Gardel: Judicial corruption in New Mexico seems to be a tradition older than the state itself. And the military schools here do tend to be slightly rough (the real one is in Roswell). But no, cash for kids tends to be strictly a Pennsylvania thing.

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Gardel: @WestMesaFluffCollector: holy shit, tho thats for juvenile jail right? not a school
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BRBR: Nice story.

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MONEJO: Excellent, very good job!
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Sorrowkandy: I just want bad thing to happen to them dammnit!!
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Anonymous1: The asshole teen deserved a beating