Big Bad Munsta Dad Ch.1 [By Biorb_McBiorb]

Over the last few Weeks a lot has happened.

Clint had adopted a feral herd, had butchered quite a few Fluffies. But now things were calming down. The Foals of your herd were beginning to wean off milk. They were starting to mature. No new Feral Herd trying to claim your yard. You did get a Fluffy at your front door, demanding you to let her in, how she needed your house in order to keep her Bestes’ Babbeh safe!

You promptly winded up a kick, and launched her clear into the road. The Bestes’ went with her, he was just sort of yelling at you sobbing when a Car had ran them over.

Not your mess now.

Itch.

Well. Now Clint was feeling riled up after that. The last feral herd that tried to get in about two or three weeks ago left you with a new addition to the Sorry Room. But whenever he got riled up he would always make sure to use some of the aggression on his two punching bags.

Napoleon, and Bun.

Napoleon was the Smarty you picked up with Lucky. Clint seemed to have luck with Smarties being disgusting, yet beautiful. Napoleon was Green, even deeper than Lucky’s Color, and boy did it shimmer. He had a Shiny sliver mane. But unfortunately he was a Pegasus, meaning you had to be careful with him. Too much pain would break him beyond repair. Too little wouldn’t drive the point home.

Itch.

Bun, the Mare you picked up during the Feral Herd incident. She was a Earthie and had a Light Blue Fluff with a Light yellow mane, Clint had found out she was Pregnant and decided he were going to use her foals as a way to punish her. When he first moved her into your Garage you decided to give her the bare minimum to survive. Clint didn’t want the foals to come too soon, and be stillborn, he was going to ruin the mother, for sure, but Foals didn’t deserve the wrath you were going to give her. Foals, until proven to be Best Babies or Smartys, were OK in your book, any of them who turned out great he would turn over to one of the higher grade shelters. The rest would be used for her torment.

Itch.

As Clint made his way towards the Garage, he took a peek into the safe-room, hoping to not be noticed. Seeing his Fluffies happy meant the world to Clint. They were all having a blast. The newest additions to the Herd were Kahlua’s Foals and Chili. They were doing well! Clint didn’t realize how fast foals grew up, Kahlua’s kids were already running around her nest playing and chirping “Mummah!” and “Miwkies!” Chili had, more or less, imprinted on Cooler, and they got along well enough. The Nurse mares were a big help with the Foals upbringing. Truly, Clint was a very lucky man.


Your name is Bun. And your hate it here.

Your new Munstah Daddeh Took you after he gave your whole herd forever sleepies. He even killed your Bestes Babbeh! It wasn’t fair!

But you were a soon mummah, and your Munstah Daddeh would give you kibble nummies and water, you never got to go play or get sketti, no matter how much you asked and begged! That made you sad, but at least you had someone to talk to!

Napoleon!

He was such Pretty Stallion! He made your heart feel su happies! But he never wanted to talk, and he always had hurties all over him. you couldn’t give him huggies, you were to round, you couldn’t even touch the floor anymore, It made you even more sad!

“Huu-huu, Am su saddies, fwuffy nu can gib huggies, nu hewp new fwend napoweon… huu huu” You cried. You missed so many things. Your old Special Friend, your Bestest Babbeh. You missed them both so much.

Buy you couldn’t miss them for long, because you heard you Daddeh coming. You wanted to warn Napoleon about him, but, He wasn’t panicking! He was just laying there.

Knock. Knock.

“Guess who?”


Your name is Clint, But to these two?

Your Munstah Daddeh.

After spending so much time online, and learning the habits of most fluffies you knew that your fat fuck of a mare was so close to giving birth. You decided that she would be the target today, You grabbed Sheri, your sorry stick that you moved to the garage for just this occasion, and greeted her.

“Hey there Bun! How are we today? Babies coming along good?” You asked in a cutesy tone.

“H-hewwo Daddeh, y-yes babbehs am cwose. maybe one, ow two bwite times m-mowe.” Bun said in a quivering tone. “Well, I found out your babbehs are almost ready! and I know you miss being able to play, so im going to get the Babbehs out early with this!” You say holding up Sheri.

“B-Buh… B-babbehs nu weady yet Daddeh! Pwease nu g-gib owwies tu Bun, am s-soon-mummah!” God you loved her pleading, you threatened to hit her before, for multiple things, threatening you with poopies, calling you names. But you never actually hit her… until now.

With a swift crack of Sheri you brought the Sorry-Stick down across her muzzle gifting you the sweetest melody, ever preformed. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE W-WHY DADDEH GIB OWWIES TU BUN, AM GUD FWUF-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Mid-sentence you brought Sheri down on her rump, stoping her pleading.

You repeatedly swatted Bun over and over again, until finally, you heard it.

“B-BIGGEST POOPIES!”

You had pushed her to give birth “a bwight time ow two” early. Setting Sheri down you ran out of the garage and into the safe-room. “Hera? I need a hand with a Bad Fluffy. Her Babies are coming!” Hera hearing you request, set the suckling foals with Kahlua, and ran her self over to you, raising her front to the air, She didn’t ask to go up, this wasn’t play time. This was work.

Picking up the Cow Fluffy, you ran back to the Garage. Horrified at the sight of Hera, She screamed and yelled “M-MUNSTA OUGH-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” the yelling stopped as she was feeling the foals come out, you set Hera behind Bun, in full Nurse mode. You watched Hera work almost like a machine. She took each foal, licked them clean and set them aside for the next one.

She repeated this. TEN TIMES.

TEN FUCKING FOALS.

As You moved Bun aside, and looked over each and every foal. after a head count. you saw Hera begin to feed some of the foals. You saw that Bun had some Alicorns in her lot, nice. You picked you Bun gingerly and held her so she could look over her new Babies. she did not look happy.

“M… Munstah Babbehs? B-but Bun am Good Fwuffie! Nuuuuu NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU HATE MUNSTA BABBEHS, HATE POOPIE BEBBEHS!” Hera looked at Bun with discontent, not anger, she knew that Bun was a bad mother. “Hmph! Daddeh? Can Hewa take Babbehs into da Safe-woom?”

“No, not these one Hera. We don’t know if these Babbehs are good or bad. so ill keep them here for a while, just till they grow up a bit.” He Answer didn’t make Hera happy, but she didn’t argue with you.

After each of the ten foals had there fill of milk. you gave them to Bun, and decided to whisper “I’m going to put Hera back into the safe-room, if i see even ONE Foal hurt, or numming your shit, i’ll make you eat each and every one of them. Understood?” Bun didn’t say anything, only nodding and showing off a scared smile as she let her foals lay round her.

Setting Hera back into the Safe-Room she was met by hugs and multiple “Yay!”-s. Before you left the Room, Hera looked back to you and asked. “Wiww does Babbehs be otay Daddeh?”

“Well… They should be OK now. Thanks to you Hera!” You told the Nurse. “In fact! You did such a good job, I think we are going to have spaghetti tonight!”

That only brought more cheers, peeps, and hugs for Hera. With the Herd sufficiently distracted Clint went back into the Sorry Room.

To your absolute shock, you saw Bun tossing foals off of the table, some had died, some didn’t. She had only gotten up to four before you came back. And boy was she sure surprised to see you back.

“D-Daddeh? D…Dis nu am what wooks wike!” You Told her what you would do. You Warned her.

And you were a man of your word.

Itch. Itch. Itch.

You bent over and picked up all four of the foals she dropped, You grabbed the other six she either hadn’t gotten to or decided to keep, and took them too.

Itch. Itch. Itch.

You really didn’t want to do this part. but you warned her. “What did i say Bun.” You said holding her litter in your hands. “D…d-dat if b-bun gib owwies tu any babbehs, dat 'ou wouwd m-make… NUUUUUUUUUU-NU PWEASE NU DADDEH PWEASE NU MAKE BUN NUM BABBEHS! AN ONWY WITTOW BABBEHS!”

Itch. Itch. Itch.

You shoved the two foals who didn’t survive the fall into her mouth. you began to tear up, knowing those two never got a chance to live a happy life.

Itch. Itch. Itch.

You stopped after the two had gone down, to Bun’s surprise. “n…n-nu mowe babbeh nummies?”

“No. But trust me, you’re going to wish never had babies in the first place.” taking the eight remaining foals, you set up a box with a soft towel that you wouldn’t miss. Setting the foals inside as nicely as you could. Each one peeped and began to hug either one another, or parts of the towel itself.

You left the Garage, and turned the lights off. hearing a screech from Bun, YOu locked uo the Safe-Room and the house as you left.

God you wanted to keep them, but you were already dealing with too many. You did the reasonable thing. You were tired, but you needed to do this. You took a shower. got some new clothes on, and took the foals to a no kill shelter. High Grade, 4.7 stars out of 5. They would be safe there, God you hoped so. Then you remembered something. You promised your Fluffies Sketti tonight. You think there was a decent Italian place near by the shelter. So you made a mental note to buy a plate or two of Spaghetti on the way back.

You were a man of your word after all. Even if sometimes your pity took over and made you break your word.

But the Fluffies didn’t have to know that.

25 Likes

Nice one! I’m loving it. I wonder if Bun was telling the truth and she didn’t drop them on purpose. :+1:

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Does the shelter or a nearby bio bin have 8 (or more) dead chirpie/babbehs? If so, use those in place to force feed Bun.

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If I had to guess she was throwing them all down so they could escape…after she jumped down and they “catch” mummah, of course.

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I fear Bun is gonna force herself on Napoleon - he’s clearly in no fit state to consent - in order to be a soon mummah again.

In which case I’d recommend Clint plays nice and gives her the sketti she desires. Laced with Parsley of course

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OR IS HE?!?!??!??? !??!
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

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Dammit Bun you got one damn rule to follow, ONE! That would let your survive and you just flip the damn table! :man_facepalming:

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coward. you’re lucky I’m like that.

2 Likes