Fun Backyard Sleepover
Fun Sleepaway Camp
Fun Sleepaway Camp pt2
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“Babbehs! Baabbbeehhhss!” Tulip looked around under the picnic table where she’d set her little foals under. Where were they? They couldn’t even walk yet and they were being bad!
Puffing her cheeks out, the mare huffed a bit. “Hab tummeh babbehs naow but stiww wub yew. Pwease come tu mummah.” With a few twigs snapping, a tall figure emerged from the underbrush. Turning to the human strange, she’d give him a naive smile and a nervous tail flutter.
“Hewwo. Hewp Tuwip ‘fin wittew babbehs?” Concerned now but she’d just left them all unattended in the summer heat in the middle of the wilderness. She watched as the man who had been holding his hands behind his back finally pulled them to the front and showed her something. BABBEHS! But…but something was wrong. Two had their tummy skettis out and weren’t even peeping, and her bestest was making small ‘huuhuus’ and ‘wan dies’.
“EEEEEE! MEANIE MUNSTAH!” That’s who this was! Beginning to run as fast as she could, she was sure that the munstah wouldn’t get her. “Wun way! Hab nyu tummeh babbehs!” No matter how fast she tried to run it didn’t seem like she was going anywhere. Weggies tired, she finally plopped down on her belly and looked over her shoulder. A boot tip had settled gently against her tail and pinned her in place. The dumbass hadn’t gotten anywhere.
“Nu-nu-nuuuu! Am soon mummah! Nu bad uppsies!” She protested loudly after being grabbed up by the mane and held aloft as the Meanie Munstah made his way to the mess hall. They pushed by a large table meant for community meals, posters on the walls which had such slogans as ‘Peas eat your veggies!’, old art projects on display. This was a place used for humans as well after all.
Walking into the kitchen area the Meanie Munstah found himself with a wealth of possibilities. A large rack of knives. Cleaning chemicals. An industrial dishwasher. So many different pieces to a puzzle. Something smelled good. Wandering over to a large crockpot set on the counter, he took the lid off and bent down to smell what was inside. Baked beans…the good stuff. Scooping beans sloppily into one palm, he shoved it past the mouth-hole of his Cinnamummah mask and nodded. Nice and smoky. “Tuwip am hab beany-nummies tu?” The mare asked hopefully, apparently forgetting just moments ago he’d showed off an art project involving her maimed foals.
Beans? Alright. Hauling the soon mummah off to a cutting board, his hand selected a meat cleaver and began quickly hacking off limbs. Her weggies flew off, shit exploded out her ass, Meanie Munstah looked longingly over to the crockpot.
“SCREEEE! WEGGIES NU WEAB SOON MUMMAH! NEE’ WEGGIES ‘FO HUGGIE BABBEHS! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!” She wailed out but the pain could be worse. Case in point, he flicked on the burner to a gas stove as high as it could go and removed the plate from it so he could begin shoving bleeding stumps down on it. The scent of burning flesh & fur began to rise throughout the kitchen but it needed to be done. Blood loss wouldn’t be an acceptable end.
“Huuhuu…eeee……EEEEE!” Trying to bob around in his grip, Meanie Munstah would have none of it and only held on tighter. Brought on over to the crockpot now, he shoved the mare down into the mass of beans. Sure she would have been a tight fit before but without legs, just look at how cozy she was. Syrupy legumes were shoved away from her face, pooled around her so that she wouldn’t possibly be able to drown in them.
Fitting the lid over the fluffy, he looked down over the glass which was quickly fogging up. No way to get out. In there snugly enough that she wasn’t even going to be able to flop about. Terrified eyes looked back to him. Twisting the temperature knob to high, he left the kitchen thinking about how the meat would just be falling off the bone later.
Crafts, cooking, now…sports.
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Ray wandered about outside the cabin. He’d taken a small nap after having the bestest enfies EBAH. Now he was ready for round 2. Surely if they had moar special hugs, there would be more babbehs. That’s what he was going to tell her anyways.
“Tuwip! Speciaw fwend! Way am hewe wif big nu-nu stick ‘fo yew!” Calling out while actively getting excited. It was hard not to be! No mummah or ANYONE to tell him what to do. He could have enfies all he wanted and nobody could tell him not to! In fact…
There was a stuffy-friend on the ground. A brown teddy bear with one missing button eye, ragged and obviously well loved. A tag on the leg read ‘Cheese’.
“Yew wan bestest feews, stuffy-fwend?” Bunching the stuffy friend up, he began to pleasure himself with it. Tongue sticking out, ass in the air as he humped away. “BEEEEESTEST FEEWWSSS.”
A fair distance away from this horrid discourse was the Meanie Munstah. He’d been rummaging around in one of the equipment sheds and located a bow & quiver of arrows that were used for archery practice. It’d been many years since he had gone to camp himself but he’d always been a sure shot. Even though sweat was getting in his eyes and he had to stare out mask slits, he notched and arrow and it flew true. Zipping through the air, the arrow pierced right through the anus of the fluffy. The stuffed animal rapist screeched, flopped to the ground, an explosion of bloody shit erupting from his anus.
“POOPIE PWACE! NU AM MAWE! EEEE! SCREEEEE! HEWP WAY! NEE’ HUGGIES ‘FO HUWTIES!” He wasn’t running anywhere, that was for sure. Pinwheeling around the dirt in a puddle of blood, shit, and cum the stallion was most definitely down for the count. Heavy bootsteps announced the arrival of Meanie Munstah. Ray’s eyes locked onto the man, attempted to scrabble away with his front hooves.
Meanie Munstah began notching the arrow sticking out of the fluffy’s anus. It was grimy, slippery, and required some tugging to loosen the shaft enough. Tearing back and dragging sundered rectal tissue out with it, he pulled the bowstring tense enough that it would do what needed done. Letting flying once more, the arrow fully pierced right through the disgusting cavity it’d found itself lodged into. With a squelching ‘pop!’, the tip exited right through the stallion’s mouth with a knotted coil of greasy intestine dragged along with it.
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Cheese was still alive. Bugs seethed against her open wounds which were festering in the heat. The stink which surrounded her was unbelievable. She wanted to be with her brother, Mac. She wanted mummah. Something. Any form of comfort.
Comfort like…her stuffy friend? The Meanie Munstah was back. In his hands was her bestest stuffy-friend that mummah had given her when she was still a babbeh. Peeping pitifully, she waggled front hooves out. Giving a hug to her stuffy would make things feel better. Right?
One last act of cruelty for Cheese: He simply ripped the bear’s head off and let it fall to the ground with stuffing spewing out. The fluffy watched, gave a last rattling breath, gave up on life. Body growing limp, she shit herself one final time and was no more.
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“Fwends, yew nee’ stop gibbin wicky-kissies and wun away! Dis am SEWIUS! Meanie Munstah am hewe ‘an wiww ea’chu!” Dot was pleading with Claret and Cosmo who were having a romantic rendezvous at the camp lake. The water was murky, filled with leeches, and stank to high heaven. Another reason why this place was an undesirable location.
Stopping for a moment from slurping on one of Cosmo’s ears, Claret puffed out her cheeks. “Shu’up! Dewe AM NU MUNSTAH! Wittew babbeh! Dummeh! Cwawet am show yew!”
Marching out to the entrance of the woods, the belligerent mare shook her tail from side to side mockingly. “Meanie Munstah! Meanie Munstah! Bedda nu git Cwawet! Suuuu scawdies! Pwease nu git!”
Cosmo giggled at this. His new special friend was so cool and tough! “Yis! Pwease nu git Cosmo! Teeheehee!”
Taunting Meanie Munstah? Dot watched a hand shoot out from the bushes and seize Claret by the top of her fuzzy little head. Kicking around, she squealed out for help.
“Nuuu! MEANIE MUNSTAH AM WEAW! HEWP FWENDS!” Well, Dot wasn’t going to help. In fact she was going to run. Far away. Cosmo charged over to the man who was gripping onto his new special friend’s skull with a dig of his sharp nails.
“Wet Cwawet gu meanie! Dat am speciaw fwend nao! Dummeh!” Stupidity, not bravery. Let Claret go? Gladly. Spinning around and grunting, he sent the mare across the surface of the water. Did she sink immediately? Nope. Her face bounced into the water first, breaking her jaw and sending a spray of bloodied teeth out. Skipped, hit hard again and broke her back legs. Another bounce and finally she was sinking down into the murky depths.
“EEEEEE! SCAWIES!” Cosmo tried to run away but the Meanie Munstah seized him by his tail and slung him over one shoulder. The stallion beat his front hooves against the man’s back though they were beyond useless. In fact, they made squeaky noises.
By now he’d lost any idea of trying to be making demands of the munstah. Instead he was pleading. To who? Impossible to know.
“Nee’ mummah, an’ toysies, wan be home. Nu wan enfies ‘o baddies.” Pleading, wanting to compromise and go back to how things were. Impossible. First they passed a wasp nest. Papery and clumsily made, Meanie Munstah knew there were vicious little bugs in there. Slinging the stallion from over his shoulder, a hand gripped his midsection like a football and sent him hurtling through the air and right into the nest. It burst open and a cloud of angry, whirring insects met their challenger. Cosmo went to the ground in a heap of broken legs and ribs, screaming as they wasps lit over him. They stung and stung. Eyes. Face. Genitalia. When he screamed, they even flew into his mouth and were no doubt continuing their assault in there. It was a satisfying display. Meanie Munstah simply stood there and watched as he was dealt with. Hundreds of firepoker hot stings injecting their venom. Shoulders slumped, he left them there. He would be food for the wasps, his stinking bad flesh chewed over by greedy mandibles.
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Back at the cabin. Dot was under the blankie which had been provided for her when they first arrived. A squeal of floorboards and clocking bootsteps announced she had a visitor. Her eyes squeezed shut and she dug her face down to the stinky cushion bed.
What was going to happen? Was Meanie Munstah going to eat her butt? Maybe blow her up? Put her in a sorry-box then run that over with a vroomy?
None of that. A hand simply pat her head though that was enough to cause her to scream in terror. Meanie Munstah continued his tradition of saying nothing, standing up from her position on the floor and wandering away.
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“Dot, I had to SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT. All of your friends DEAD, and worst of all I heard you were around unsupervised with boys.”
Shaking her head furiously, the mare wanted to dispute this. “Mummah! It am Meanie Munstah!” Dot had been slung over her mummah’s knee. Just as promised if she heard about her mare spending time with boys again, Sandra was spanking the bad fluffy. Giving ‘huuhuus’ and sobbing, the mare couldn’t even do anything about it.
“Well this is twice now that a supposed ‘Meanie Munstah’ has killed all of your friends, and if he only visits bad fluffies, you must be being bad!” Scolding her traumatized little fluffy. Why didn’t anyone believe her!?
“Mummah…” She tried to explain again. Sandra shushed her with an index finger pushed against her lips.
“That’s enough. I may be sending you to a facility for bad fluffies if you can’t behave yourself. Maybe a week there will teach you how to behave.”
A place? For BAD FLUFFIES?
Oh turnips…
