More fun ruining families.
You are Sprout, a dark brown Munstah Mummah colt. You live in the Big Gwassy Pwace with your Mummah and your bruddas and sissy. You are wittwest babbeh. Daddeh called you “nu gud sickie babbeh” and that’s why your mummah took your siblings and left. She spends the day walking with you and your siblings on her back so she can always know where you are. Your siblings are big enough for real nummies now, but you still mostly get milkies.
Mummah is currently walking down the street while you and the bigger babbehs have good huggies in her back fluff. Your big wingie brudda is hugging you now, and his tummy fluff is suuuuuu soft! “Waindwop wub wittwest bwudda Spwout! Fankyu fow be wittwe bwudda!” Your heart sings. You love your family so much and they give you the bestest heart happies.
“Bwuddas, wook! Wittwe hoomins!” Your big sissy was pointing and yelling. And she was right! Mummah was walking past a biiiiig grassy place with so many little hoomins! They’re all walking around with big bags and some of them are getting into big yellow munstahs. “Otay babbehs, mummah gon fin nice nestie obah in twee pwace! Mebbeh wittwe hoomins come pway wif fwuffies!” Wow! None of you had ever played with hoomins before! Back when you were just chirpie babbehs mummah had to run away from some bigger little hoomins that wanted to give you bad upsies. But now you’re not little foals, you’re walkie talkie babbehs!
As mummah reached the treeline by the grassy field, she knelt down and let you all roll off her back. You all stomped clumsily around the vicinity grabbing nest supplies. You were nursing on mummah when two of the little hoomins walked up. “See? I told you.” The shorter fatter boy scoffed at his friend. “Look. Four foals. One of 'em is just a runt.” The taller thinner one shook his head. “Man, whatever. You sure nobody can see us?” The fat boy laughed. “Even if they could, this is unincorporated Boone County. Ain’t no laws against it. As far as anyone is concerned, we’re playing in garbage. Sad, yes. Reason to call child services, sure. But we won’t get in trouble. Here, watch.” He knelt down to your mummah. “Hi! I’m Tommy. Who are you?” Mummah beamed at him. “Fwuffy am Mewwygowd! Am bestes’ mummah fow babbehs!” He patted her head. “I bet you are, yeah. Which baby is your bestest bestest baby, though?” Mummah thought for a second. “Mebbeh…pointie babbeh?” Makes sense. Your brother Pebble is the strongest and bravest of your siblings, and he’s usually not riding mummah these days. He likes to run around ahead of her to keep you all safe.
The tubby hoomin gently picks up Pebble in his hand. “Fankyu fow nice upsies mistah hoomin! Wub gud upsies! Teehee!” your brother giggled and babbled as the hoomin tickled his belly. The other hoomin hadn’t spoken to mummah, and he reached down for you. You sat back in a huggy pose, but he was a little rougher than his friend had been. He didn’t lift and cradle, he just sort of grabbed you in his fist by the torso. He wasn’t squeezing too hard, but you still made a scaredy peep as he picked you up, and it scared your mummah.
“Pwease be cawefuw wif wittwest babbeh, tu wittwe fow fast upsies, onwy gentwe upsies. Nu huwt!” He seemed to be ignoring your mummah and just looking at you blankly. You drummed on his fingers a bit with your little hoofsies. “Hewwo taww hoomin! Babbeh am Spwout! Hoomin wan pway wif babbeh?” He just stared a bit, before looking away to his friend who was holding your brother.
“Wow.” The other boy said. “They look just like real animals! I can feel its little bones, dude!” He was holding Pebble in the crook of his arm and running his fingers up and down him. Eventually he pushed a little too hard, because your brother yelped. “Owwies! Tu hawd, nu huwt!” Your mummah was standing now, having temporarily set aside her nest making materials. “Ummm nicey mistah? Can…can mummah hab babbehs backsies nao? Babbehs need miwkies, ow get tummeh huwties.” You knew that wasn’t true, but before you could remind her, the boy cut her off. “Bullshit.” He spit, eliciting a couple cries of “meanie wowd” from your siblings. You tried but found it a little hard to make tawkies. You started drumming your hooves on the hoomins finger again to get his attention, but it’s not working.
The chubby boy continues. “These foals all have teeth. That means they can all eat real food now. You’re a very bad fluffy for lying.” Mummah started to nervously shuffle her hooves in place. “Bu…bu hoomins gib scawy upsies tu mummah babbehs! Mummah am scawedy fow babbehs, pwease can hab babbehs back?” The chubby boy laughs. “Sure. One thing first.” he bends down and grabs your wingie sissy with his free hand and turns to the tall boy holding you. “Grab the earthie stallion. Do it like the other one. Trust me, you don’t want to cover their shitters.” While your groundborne brother tried to alert the hoomin to the no no word he just said, your silent partner stooped and grabbed him up.
Mummah was panicking. “Huuuhuuu wai gib upsies tu aww babbehs? Pwease gib back mummah babbehs!” The chubby boy didn’t laugh this time. “Which one?” He said. Mummah cocked her head in confusion. “Nu unnastan?” He repeated himself with more force. “Which one? Which of your children do you want back? I’m adopting one of them.” Mummah looked nervous still, but she was getting ONE babbeh back. “Huuuu otay scawy mistah, gib pointie babbeh back tu mummah.” He nodded in agreement. “Before I do-” He placed his thumb between your brothers eyes and slid it up to his horn. Then, with a horrible snapping sound, he pushed in and folded your brother’s horn flat against his head, snapping it off entirely and bringing a chunk of skull with it.
Pebble started howling and the boy dropped him immediately. Mummah started running forward to save him, sobbing and screaming “nu” the whole way, but the hoomin wasn’t done. He held your wingie sissy in his other hand and placed your brother’s horn with the point against her forehead. “I’ve always wanted an alicorn” he chuckled.
“Nuu! Nu wan be munstah babbeh! Gib bwudda pointie pwace back! Nu fow Dewdwop!” He started pressing in and her words became screams. As he pushed harder and her skull started to give they became words once more. “Owwies! Nuuuuuuu! Mummah sabe Dewdwop! Munstah gib bigges finky pwace huwties!” She started appealing to him directly. “Pwease munstah nu huwt Dewdwop! Owwies! Nu wan hown! Nu wan huwt finky pwace!” A soft crack signaled that her skull was giving. “Nuuuuuu! Owwwwies! Tu hawd! Tu hawd! Wostest finky pwace huuuuuwties!” You could see as it lurched with a wet sound as the boy let off and it remained in her forehead. Now she was just screaming. “Huuuhuhuhuhu wai huwt huhuhuhu owwies finky pwace nu feew wite huhuhuhu.” He placed his thumb over it again, and to your horror, he started pushing MORE.
“NUUUUUUU!!! Owwies mistah bigges owwies! Nu! Nu! Nu! Nu! Nu!” He slowly slid it in. “Nuuuu…mummah…nu…finky pwace feew wong…tummeh feew funneh…an…an…” He pressed his thumb flush with her forehead. “Yeeep! Hrk!” He then casually dropped her on top of her hornless brother, who was still in a daze while mummah struggled to wake him. Sissy didn’t pass out, but there was something wrong. “Hebp! Mubbo! Babbub nib habu… Bu bink bub, bobbo…” She collapsed back on her haunches and started sobbing into her hooves.
The boy holding you looked at your brother in his other hand, himself a snot soaked sobbing shitting spectacle. “Pwease nu! Nu huwt Spwingfiewd! Spwingfiewd am gud fwuffy, nu wan be dummeh!” The boy, still, said nothing. But he adjusted his hand so your brother was in his palm, pinned there by his thumb on thr foals belly. Your brother squirmed and writhed and wiggled, but to no avail. The boy started squeezing. “Huuu owwies nu wike bad huggies.” Then, the boy spit! In your brudda’s face! He was gasping for air and trying to clear it from his face, but his stubby weggies couldn’t reach. When he tried, it was flexing his tummy, and the hoomin wasn’t letting him do that. “Kaff! Kaff kaff! Haf…haf…haf… Pwease…nu…nu squeezy… Ptoo! Nu mowe…nu muwe icky wawa…huuuuuuuu”
The boy was really digging in. You could see boo boo juice come from under his thumbnail and your brother was howling. “Owwwwwies! Wai huwt tummeh? Huuuhuhuhuuuu ou gonna bweak Spwingfiewd tummeh!” He snorted and clamped down hard. “Nuuuuu! Spwingfiewd bewwy huwt… Bewwy huwt suuuu much… Mummah peeeeeze…” As the boy secured his grip, your brother just started screeing. As he kept squeezing you watched your brother’s face contort and swell before bloody vomit started surging from his mouth and his eyes popped out. It looked like the inside part of his poopy place had come out, too. He was still breathing, barely, and the boy hurled him at mummah’s face. The mess was horrifying.
“Nuuuuu! Nu huwt babbehs!” She had stopped attending to your no longer pointy brother, his brain had been exposed for too long and he’d died. Your sissy was still muttering nonsense, and your earthie brother was quickly dying in mummah’s arms.
You looked up at the hoomin holding you in his hand. “P…pwease nu huwt babbeh nice mistah, babbeh tu wittwe…huuuuuuuu…” Wordlessly, he flipped you on your belly and pointed your face down towards your mummah. “Mummah! Mummah, hewp! Spwout need mummah hewp! Sabe Spw-” You are cut off by an unwelcome sensation. Something massive is pushing in to your poopy place.
Oh no. It’s the hoomin finger. The huge beast he’d been unable to even give effective sorry hooves to. “Nu! Nu huwt poopy pwace! Poopy pwace nu fow dat!” You were shouting and thrashing and kicking to no end. Mummah was sitting back and sobbing, absolutely despondent. Shattered by what she’s seeing. She holds your now clearly dummeh sister close in the most terrified hug you’ve ever seen. Meanwhile, your poopy place grows and grows.
“Huuuu pwease nu be in babbeh nu mowe…nu wan mistah inside Spwout! Mistah am gunna bweak poopy pwace! Peeeeeze!” He gives no sign he’s heard, and you can feel him rearranging your guts as he pushes in further. It’s awful, the most pain you can imagine.
Then he stops. You can feel his finger making your tummy swell out. It’s all the way inside you and it hurts worse than anything ever. “Owwwwwww pwease wet fwaffy guuuuuuuuuu su sowwy nu huwt peeeeeze” You feel so weak. You’re losing consciousness when you feel something you thought impossible.
More pain.
“Nuuuuu! Dose am speshaw wumps! Nu huwt babbeh speshaw wumps! Nu! Nu touchies dewe! Nu am gud touchies!” But he didn’t stop. He grabbed them.
And he crushed them like it was nothing. Before you could even scream, he’d torn you nono stick off as well. Bleeding from the groin, you looked at mummah. The fat boy had a pointy thingy from his pocket. He was holding down your struggling mummah on her back. “Nu! Wet gu! Nu wan! Wan wun way! Nu huwt!” He was…he was hurting her hoofsies. He was carving into the soles with it. All four of them. When he was done, he set her down ten feet from sissy. When mummah got up to walk, she immediately screeched and fell over in pain. “NUUUUUUU! WOWSTEST HOOFIE OWWWWWIES!” She scream sobbed as the tall boy walked past her and all at once pulled his finger out of you.
He dropped you on your sister. You were in so much pain you could hardly move, but your sissy tried to push you off. In doing so, she put pressure on your wounded poopy place. You’d emptied in the boy’s hand, but this sent you over the edge and you blacked out.
When you awoke, mummah had reached you and sissy. It was darker now, and mummah was weak. Pale. Booboo juice still flowing from her hooves. You try to call out, but doing so moves something that hurts too much to push past. You slump over, eyes open. Staring at mummah, waiting for her to look at you and know you’re alive. She does. She locks eyes and in that moment you know. Mummah isn’t dead, not like your bruddas. And she’s not dummy like poor sissy. She’s broken. Broken like your poopy place, with about as much chance of recovery.
A tear wells up in your eye. Mummah’s too. You both weep until sleep comes.