Toy had hurried back to the nest in the underpass as soon as she could. Burrs and twigs were snagged in her fur, her legs were impossibly tired after having rushed back and fourth. She had to warn everyone! There was a munstah! Glue wasn’t outside on his usual responsibility of keeping a lookout and that made her worry even more. Was he hurt? Was everyone? Bursting into the access area, she called out.
“Dere am munstah! Toy pwotecc…” She was caught upside the head with a flurry of hooves. Someone attempted to grab at her tail and she bucked back as hard as she could. Her rear hooves caught something soft and squishy, and suddenly there was a choked, gurgling noise. Her eyes hadn’t even adjusted to the darkness before the attack on her continued. More stomps to her body, the mare going to the ground and attempting to curl up defensively. It was all she could do at the moment.
Pretty watched as Toy’s former herdmates and her poopies attacked the old smarty that used to lead this place. Once she was down and sufficiently cornered so she wouldn’t fight back, the unicorn trotted up. One of Toy’s eyes focused on her usurper, glimmered with anger and confusion. Pretty launched herself forward and took out the eye with a deft stab of her horn. The mare squealed in pain as the eye was effectively obliterated, but Pretty wasn’t done yet. She continued butting her head down, piercing the exposed half of her face that she wasn’t able to hide against the floor.
“Teehee! Now dummeh mawe am munstah! Su su uwgy! Neba eba hab wub!” Pretty announced with delight in her voice. Toy’s face, at least half of it, was a rough patch of running blood and puncture wounds.
“Bwing dummeh munstah tu da sowwy-cohneh!” Pretty demanded of her two remaining brothers. ‘Remaining’, because the one who had tried to grab Toy had taken hooves to the throat. As the orange mare was grabbed by her mane, tired body dragged across the floor, she saw him laying there. He continued to gurgle, booboo wawa bubbling out from his mouth in rasps. His always dead eyes finally gave some kind of feeling: Hurt. Toy was deposited in a corner where Basil had also been dragged. She thought he was forever sleepies at first but could hear him making tiny peeps and cheeps as if he was a chirpy again.
With the two remaining poopies guarding them, they wouldn’t be going anywhere. Toy watched on as Pretty pranced about the place, loudly declaring how great she was and how she would give the stallions in the place everything they wanted. After all, she had just defeated their previous smarty. How could they argue with such things? It wasn’t very hard even for a fluffy to piece together what had happened since she’d left to go find Mud.
As badly as her face hurt, with the pain being a searing flame that seemed to pierce her skull, she would go to next to Basil. He was worse off than she was. They had given him the wowstest bad huggies. Though this was a complete stranger, in her eyes he was just a hurt little thing. Using the undamaged side of her face, Toy nuzzled him comfortingly.
“Is otay, nyu fwend. Toy am hewp.”
Basil finally looked up from the floor. The smarty who had met them outside was here, and Pretty had given her lots of hurties. “Dis am aw Basiw’s fawt. Tu scawdies tu say munstah…” He whimpered. Didn’t really think that Toy could do anything to help him or anyone here. Pretty was a bad thing. She was worse than anything he had ever seen.
“Nu be saddies, Basiw fwend. Toy sabe all wittew sissy and bwuddehs.” Right now she didn’t even know how. Getting lots of hurties wasn’t going to stop her though. No matter what, she wasn’t going to stop trying.
It was just then that Pretty came trotting over with a talkie-babbeh clutched in her teeth. The little yellow and purple thing was squealing and flailing around, pissing all over the place in it’s fear. Plopping the babbeh down, she pressed a hoof on it so it couldn’t go anywhere.
“Hewwo, dummehs!” She told her two captives, a smug expression on her face. “Dis am yummies ‘fo yew.”
Toy had pressed herself down to the ground and shoved the injured part of her face down so that the babbeh couldn’t see. He was already scared and if he saw his big sissy as a munstah, he could be even more so.
“Toy neba num babbeh.” She announced defiantly.
Basil looked to the scared little thing. Well, he was scared too. And hurt. If he didn’t do what Pretty demanded of them, he would likely be even more hurt. It was hard to imagine he could be worse off than this, but she was a munstah after all. He looked over to Toy, her ear perked up with a rebellious flair.
“…Basiw nu num babbeh.” He mumbled. The good smarty mare had given him something like a tiny flicker of hope with her nuzzle. It was like she radiated some kind of a warmth. Enough to say no to the creature who had caused him so much pain.
“Hmph! Dummehs num babbeh. Dey hab nu nummies. Omwy babbeh.” The terrified foal was scooped up by his mane again, carried off. Basil had seen a definite look of scorn in her eyes as she was denied the pleasure of seeing them do something so terrible.
The green & red stallion who had belonged to her herd came trotting up to them after. It was appropriate someone had singed ‘ASSHOLE’ onto his side with a soldering iron, because he truly was one even if they couldn’t read what it said.
“Heh heh! Dummeh Toy be enfie-pet ‘fo Jowwy!” Jolly sneered. He had been a poorly advised Christmas gift to some kid who had beaten the shit out of him until abandoning him. Toy had saved him, given him shelter, taught him how to find nummies.
“Toy gib munstahs fow-ebba sweepies.” She warned him as he skirted past the poopies guarding them and to behind where she sat. As Toy heard his hooves scrape off the ground in an attempt to mount her, she sent her rear legs bucking back for the second time that day. He wasn’t caught by the throat but instead kicked squared in chest as he descended down to give her bad huggies. He was knocked back, lungs whistling as air squished out of them, the mare pouncing up and getting over to him.
“Am fwend! Am fwend! Toy am bestest smawty! Nu huwties!” He pleaded, still erect given what he’d just been about to do moments ago. Toy didn’t listen to this though. He was a munstah. She stomped down on his jaw. Teeth flew out from his mouth, and she continued to pound down. His jaw was broken, fur and skin was torn away to reveal muscle underneath as she scraped at him. The severity of the pummeling was enough to tear the tongue right out of his now exposed mouth. What little remnants of teeth remaining were bloody shards and stumps. Finally she relented, watching as he got up, ran in a drunken zigzag, smacked face-first into a concrete wall and slid down with a bloody smear.
By now Pretty had returned from shoving the babbeh back into the little area where the foals were kept. Toy looked to her with the one remaining good eye.
“Hmph! Yew gib huwties to nyu hewd? Dummeh! Pwetty gib wowstest huwties tu awe da babbehs if nu wisten!” The mare warned Toy. That was one thing that would stop her from charging out. If by some chance she couldn’t get the munstah, would there be any life worth living if one of her sissies or brothers got hurt because of her?
“…” Toy gave a flick of one of her ears.
Basil looked up from his place on the ground. “Wisten to Pwetty mawe. Dun wan ‘mo huwties.” He advised her, and Toy would simply nod.
Pretty gave a delighted rattle of her hooves against the floor. “Yay! Munstah wisten! Yew am Pwetty’s enfie ‘fing naow! Nu wike stinkeh Basiw!” With that she looked back to the remaining stallions of Toy’s herd. Not counting the ones who wanted nothing to do with hurting her or seeing her hurt, there were nine left after Jolly had just received an emergency dental session via a hoofing.
“Nyu fwends! See dummeh Toy gib wicky-cweanies!” The nine stallions trotted over and watched as Pretty lifted her tail up and shoved back against the mare. Toy began to lick with no hesitation, even while those she had taken in, fed, and loved for began to jeer and tease her. She stared at them fiercely as she mindlessly dragged her tongue out.
The love she shared for those who couldn’t help themselves was shared in equal parts with a hate for those that did the hurting. They were munstahs now, and there would be no sympathy when this all came to an end.
