You are a munstah babbeh, your mummah tells you every day. At least, you think it’s your mummah— her voice is always so far away when you hear it. Even when you’re gulping down delicious milkies, the voice seems to be just as far away. Maybe she’s not your mummah? Then who could she be. Either way, your heart has the biggest hearties every time you hear her call you a monster.
You’re not the only monster, either. There’s three other cheeps and peeps around you. They smell like you, so they must be your kin. The voice calls them monsters too. You can’t all be monsters, though, as sometimes you hear a soft “bestest babbeh” coming from the same voice. At first, your heart felt the biggest happies ever, but then you hear a distant peep in response and realized it wasn’t about you.
Despite the mean words you hear every day, you still feel a sense of love from other places— the nice milkie mummah you suckle from is warm and soft. Your brother and sister are, too, especially when you huddle together in a small pile. Sometimes, you even feel gentle strokes and soft words from somewhere— maybe that’s your mummah!! Of course, it had to be. Even when you’re lifted up and feel so scared by the sudden lack of safety, you’re greeted with a gentle tone and compassionate pets.
After a few bright times, your seey places finally open and you take in your world for the first time. The first thing you notice is your siblings— they’re piled up together with you, having slept through the dark times peacefully. You cheep softly, your throat tickling as your newfound sight and speech develop.
“H…hewwo….” you manage softly, eating a few chirps in reply. They still seem sleepy, so you turn your attention elsewhere— down to your own hooves. They’re pretty and pale yellow and you shakily attempt to stand up on them. You’re a little clumsy at first, but manage to gain your footing.
Your adventure begins with a trip to, what you assume, is your mummah.
She’s big and quiet, but her fluffy is pretty yellow like yours and her milkie places smell full. You latch onto a nipple, nursing gingerly from the ambrosia vessel. While you eat, you let your pale pink eyes explore the room you’re in. You notice lots of toysies, the loving face of your mummah and then a big, scary… cage?
What is that? That looks so scary and mean! You feel your brows furrow as you detach from the faux nipple with an audible ‘pop’. Your shaky leggies carry you over to the large contraption, your snout sniffing curiously at it. You tilt your head curiously, trying to figure it out until you notice movement inside.
There’s a big yellow fluffy!! Her fur looks just like yours!! And she smells just like you!! Maybe… is she your mummah? Then who is the nice fluffy who gave you breakfast? Your head is spinning with so many questions that you don’t even notice the big fluffy approaching. There’s an angry gasp and your attention is caught, staring up at the large mare whose glaring daggers down at you.
“Munstah babbeh!! ‘Ou twy and steaw moa miwkies whiwe mummah sweepies!! Bad munstah!! Bad bad ugwy munstah!! ‘Ou desewb fowevah sweepies!!!” screams the fluffy, causing you to fallback in terror and cover the floor below you with scaredy poopies and peepees. Your white tail, now painted brown and yellow, slips between your legs as you fall back and begin to sob.
“Huuhuu scawy!!! cheep Am onwy widdle babbeh!! Nu am cheep munstah!!” You begin to scream, absolutely petrified.
The fluffy seems pleased by this, and her big hoof begins to pound at the mesh in an attempt to crush you. You’re too scared to move, you can only scream and chirp in fear. Your distress has caused another voice from inside the cage to join you in your crying— and further behind you your siblings have started up as well.
The mare continues to beat against the cage, now shouting about how “munstah babbeh scawe bestest babbeh! Gon gib wowstest sowwy hoofsies!!”
There’s a loud, scary noise that’s pounding towards you, but all you can do is cover your face with your tiny hooves to try and escape the impending doom.
Right as the mesh gives way and the mare finds freedom from her prison, the safe room door flies open. Before the big hoof can come down and crush you, the mare is flung across the room and out of sight by a swift kick to the stomach.
You’re too terrified to look, however, your leggies curled into your shaking body as you try and make yourself as small as possible. You feel something touch you, and your panic only increases. Then, you hear it— the soft voice.
“It’s okay, little one… it’s okay. The meanie mare isn’t going to hurt you, mummah won’t let her.”
This is your… mummah? Your hooves move away from your eyes, though one slowly slips into your mouthie so you can suckle it. Your baby pinks are staring up at the kind face, though you’re still shaking.
“Look at you, all dirty. Did that meanie mare make you go bad poopies?? It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You don’t know any better. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” speaks the soft voice, and you nod your tiny head sheepishly.
Your mummah moves across the room, taking a big clothie from a blue boxy and using it to wipe your messy behind. It feels good to have your poopie place and special place no longer dirty, and you coo in satisfaction.
Your tiny head receives a gentle kiss before you’re returned to your nestie where your siblings— now all awake— are still peeping frantically. Your mummah calms them all with gentle caresses, placing each at a milkie place to hush their cries and fill their bellies.
“Mummah is going to go clean your mess and take care of that meanie mare, okay? Stay here and be a good little foal. Mummah loves tou.” she says to you, and you once again nod. Your hoof finally leaves your mouthie so you can utter a “babbeh wuv mummah” to which your mummah smiles and turns to take care of things.
You watch as she grabs the meanie mare by the scuff of her neck, forcing her face down into your tiny mess and yelling at her to clean it up. The mare reluctantly obliges in between sobbing. Your mummah reaches back into the scary cage, pulling out a small ball of yucky yellow fur before taking both out of the safe room.
You feel relieved knowing the monster is gone and your mummah is protecting you, so with a newfound confidence you roll over onto your tummy to look at your siblings. Your all white brother has now opened his own seey places, his gold eyes meeting your pinks.
“M…munstah…?” He mutters, and you shake your head.
“Nu… nu am munstah. Munstah gone, mummah sabe us,” you say softly, which makes your brother smile. He waddles over to you, and you give each other huggies. You know now that you aren’t the munstah, that meanie mare is.