Day 2 of the deal. You can’t think of a single day in your life that you liked. Literally the day you were born, your herd’s leader – the smarty – sodomized your newborn bwudda’s poopie place to a rotten pulp with his no-no stick. You still don’t understand why he did that – you get why he did it to you, but your bwudda wasn’t a mare! It just doesn’t make any sense. Smarty doesn’t make sense. The cold-times don’t make sense. Your daddeh who blended your family together with a chainsaw into a tomato sauce-like consistency doesn’t make sense.
Deep down inside you, you know as a fact that humans were made by God to give fluffies yummy nummies and huggies and lots of love. So why hasn’t your daddeh? He watches teebee every evening, so why doesn’t he let you curl up on his lap like that one time when you were a soon-mummah? Why does he feed you icky poopy kibble instead of something more nutritious and good for fluffies, like off-brand dollar store sketties?
And why doesn’t he just kill the babies? They’re smarty babies! He’s seen smarty! He gave smarty FOREVER SLEEPIES. He knows how bad those babbehs are! Why does he insist on giving you owwies to kill them? Why does he let them FEED ON YOUR MILKIES? Just… why?
“Morning Shitmuncher!”
“D-dadde-”
“I’M NOT YER DADDY, YE DEMONIC TURD!”
“Huuuuu… mistah… weggie stiww hab ouchies fwom wast bwight time. Mistah fix?”
“Hahaha, fuck no. Now, feed them.”
“Mebbeh nice mistah gib one babbeh fowebah sweepies befowe miwkie time?”
“LOL, no. Now quit stalling.”
The three babbehs wriggle over. All of them have begun to grow their manes, the same yellow shade as smarty’s was. You close your eyes and just weep. There’s nothing you can do. The only solace is that one of them dies today.
The kneading is nauseating. It seems even worse today than yesterday. And the biting makes your nipples extremely sore. It’s just awful.
Once the first two are done you are a complete sobbing mess, huuhuuing quite loudly. The third comes along. Its ears twitch as you huuhuu, and instead of latching on to your nipple, it gives your teat a hug with all its might.
“Awwww, where’s my insulin?”
You’re just so confused. You’re always so confused. The smarty-babbeh-huggies are almost worse than the nursing. It turns its head up to you while grabbing your breast, with a sad expression. It thinks the huggies will make you feel better. It think the huggies will finally make you love it. You really want to give this babbeh fowebah sweepies.
Suddenly, the confusion snaps away as you realize – it’s all a test. This is all just one big test of your devotion to mistah. You know it!
“Huuu… hatechu dummeh huggie smawty babbeh. Bu’ nee’ wai’ tiww mistah huwt su can pass tess.”
“What the fuck did you say?”
You shudder a bit as you meet the mistah’s gaze.
He squats down close to you.
“There is no test. There’s never been a fucking test, bitch. My dad used to tell me the same thing. I shouldn’t drink because it’s a test. I shouldn’t eat meat during Lent because it’s a test. A test huh? Well I hate fucking tests. I don’t need a test from a God that I know hates me. But hey, if he hates me, he certainly hates you. What kind of an existence have you had? A literal, professional shit muncher, who lived in the mangiest alleyway ever, who shat out rapist babies, who’s too fucking stupid to realize there’s nothing you can do to make me like you. NOTHING! God must really hate you.”
What? What does that mean? God? Hates you? Your head is spinning around in circles.
Eventually, you realize the baby has begun suckling again. It steals enough milkies to be satisfied, unlatches, burps, and begins hugging your teat AGAIN, its belly roughly rubbing on your sore nipple.
“Alright, you worthless rat. Now, shall I kill this baby and give you the biggest hurties?”
You’ve zoned out, out of stress, exhaustion, and pain, but you manage a nod.
The man bends down and attempts to break the hug with the gentlest of pulls, as if to test the babbeh’s willpower to hold on to you. It manages to hold onto your teat, peeping loudly for you to save it.
“Heh, look at that! I think it really really likes you. Too bad.”
He then tugs it hard and handily pulls it off. Its chirps have now turned into a very high pitched EEEEEE as its cheek fur is completely matted with tears of terror and heartbreak.
He then shoves his index and middle fingers into the baby’s gaping mouth and grips it from the inside of its cheeks. The baby is flailing and thrashing about. He slowly pulls its mouth apart, blood beginning to spurt out from the seams. Suddenly, the skin rips, and there’s a big piece of it hanging loose like it does from the edges of your thumbnails. He grabs the piece with one hand, and begins pulling like it’s duct-tape. The baby’s scream intensifies into a ghastly human baby-like yell as the man unravels the skin from the baby alive. Once the piece gets to the other side of his head, it goes limp and stops screaming.
Suddenly, before you could react, he grabs the sorry stick and slams it HARD on your left back leggie.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!”
“Wowee, that felt good. Well, that’s that. It’s slop time!”
He fills your bowl with shitchow, and drops the babbeh right next to it.
Day 3 of the deal. He lets the two remaining babbehs crawl and they begin feeding. One of them twitches its right eye, and slowly opens it. The left eye follows.
“M-mummah? W-wub! Wub mummah!”
You’re just bawling. If it were any other color, you’d be so unimaginably proud. But it’s SMARTY colored. And for that, it deserves eternal suffering. The tears flood down your eyes.
“Mummah sad? H-huggie!”
You glare at it with an expression of pure anger before it can hug you, and it flinches in fear. Before you can even think of attacking it, you notice the man. He is staring at you harder than L stared at Light Yagami when he revealed his identity. You’re totally powerless and just zone out again, and the babbeh returns to suckling.
Soon enough, both babies are done suckling and burp in satisfaction.
“So, Shitmuncher, you ready for more hurties?”
You nod slowly.
“Hmmm this other one is still silent. Might be a sensitive baby. Not worth keeping around for another day when we’ve already got a talkie.”
The talkie babbeh’s eyes widen in fear. “M-mistah nu wan bwuddah? bwuddah bad?”
“Oh it’s a colt? Huh. I guess you’re all colts then since you’re twins. Nobody gave enough of a shit to even sex you four. Not even your mother. How fucking pathetic does that make you two, hm?”
“Huuuhuuu… mummah! sabe bwudda! sabe babbeh!”
“Mummah hatechu. Mistah pweez gib tawkie babbeh fowebah sweepies fiwst.”
“Hey hey, I never said you get to choose which one dies. I’m killing the sensitive baby.”
peep “Mummah nu wan” peep “babbehs? Am bad babbehs? HUUUU!!!”
The man grabs the chirpy babbeh. It squirms in the man’s hands, making distressed peeps and chirps for his mummah.
“Are you sensitive? Or are you just slow? Not sure. Either way I’m not risking the final day on a stupid chirpy like you.”
He then throws the chirpy to the floor. Not hard, but not softly either. You hear a few bones snap.
“EEEEEEEE”
“MUMMAH!! SABE BWUDDAH!! MUNSTAH HUWT BWUDDAH! WAI MUMMAH NU HEWP BWUDDAH???”
The man picks the chirpy up again. It is clearly suffering immensely – instead of thrashing, its limbs are just twitching at very odd angles which no doubt is causing even more pain to it. Tiny oodles of boo-boo juice are leaking from all over its body. It is not screaming; it’s radio-silent as if it’s saving his voice for what it knows is coming next.
“SCAWY!!! MUMMAH PWEEEEEEEZ SABE BWUDDAH! NU KNU WAT BWUDDAH DU WONG!! MUNSTAH PWEEZ HUWT BABBEH NU HUWT BWUDDAH!”
“Huh. The empathetic kind are you.” The man hurls the chirpy at the floor again. You hear more cracks. It starts to scream again.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAA!!”
hurk grgl
The chirpy’s internal organs have clearly been mangled as boo-boo juice begins to gush out from both ends. It twitches and breaths slow, raspy breaths.
“Mummah… pweez… nee bwuddah… fow huggies… pweez nu hate babbehs… pwomise be bettah.”
You just can’t stand the talkie babbeh anymore. You suddenly exclaim in fury:
“HATECHU STOOPI TAWKIE SMAWTY BABBEH!! HATECHU!!!!! HATE CHIWPIE BABBEH TUU!! BABBEHS AM SMAWTY BABBEHS!!! WOOK WIKE SMAWTY MUNSTAH!!! HATECHU!!!!!!!!!!”
The talkie babbehs eyes are wide with shock and heartbreak. He begins to wail, before turning to look at his dying bwuddah. Out of pure fear, he decides to hide with his hoofsies, mumbling “nu am smawty, sowwy fow being smawty, pweez wub” as if it’s some kind of ritual incantation.
The man then puts his boot down gently on the chirpy, and slowly begins to push down harder, ejecting the chirpy’s innards out in the most drawn-out, painful way possible. It has still not said a single word or opened its eyes. Eventually, you hear a brutal pop, and the chirpy is still.
The man begins to pull out his sorry stick. You immediately begin shuddering, but stay where you are. Your two hurt leggies are not going to cooperate even if you wanted to run. Suddenly, your talkie babbeh stands up and trots in between you and mistah.
“NUHUHUHU! BABBEH NU WIWW WET MUNSTAH HUWT MUMMAH!”
The man then looks at you.
“Is this how you raise your babies huh? To defy their human master? Do something you stupid bitch!”
“Huuuuhuuuuu…”
With your two front legs you swat away the babbeh. It qucikly scampers back again.
“NU! MUMMAH!! BABBEH WIWW SABE MUMMAH!”
The man facepalms, and decides to just pick you up. You’re ready for whatever punishment he has for you. You’re a bad mummah. Not only did you create four smarty babbehs, you also created a defiant smarty babbeh. The worstest kind. Suddenly, the man taps your maw. You open it for him. How pathetic. You’re a stupid pathetic poopie fluffy. You desperately obey the man who gave your sissie and your mummah the most unimaginably painful owwies. You desperately obey the man who feeds you shit-flavored kibble. You desperately obey the man who has brutally tortured and murdered your children. You desperately obey the man who sorry-sticked your back leggie bones to dust. You don’t even know why you’re obeying him when he made it clear that you’re on death row. You’re just pathetic.
He then grasps your tongue. You’re ready to lose your tongue. You deserve to lose your tongue.
“GIB SOWWY HOOFSIES” pomf “AND WOWSTEST FOWEBAH SWEEPIES” pomf “TU MEANIE MISTAH! NU HUWT MUMMAH!”
rrrip
AAUAUAAUAUAUAUUEUEUEUEUEEUEUAEEUEEEEEEEAUAUE
grgl kaff
The pain is unbearable. Your mouth is filling with blood which slowly drips out. In case you need a reminder tears are still flowing from your eyes.
“NUUUUU!!! N-nuuuuu… munstah… nu mow huwt mummah…”
whump he drops you to the floor, and then grabs the talkie babbeh.
chomp “Gib wowstest bitie huwties tu meanie munstah mistah!”
“It hurts more when I open up a plastic bottle you fucking retard. Now, I guess I need a cage for you, lest you crawl over to your mummah for her to kill you herself when I’m not looking.”
“Nu! Mummah wub babbeh! M-mummah w-wub…”
“Sure seems like it kid. Anyway, I probably do have a cage for you. Let’s go find it.”
“W-wai… miaaa… ugghwyy… eee iwwe… huuuuuuuuu”
“Hm? Oh right. Kibble. I’ll get your kibble right after.”
