Aisha examined her handiwork with pride. A popped open bestest babbeh that was chock full of his ground up siblings, friends, and shit and piss, his dead face twisted into an expression of agony.
“God, I am GOOD at what I do!” The bald woman crowed to herself. “Maybe I should start a patreon or twitch stream for this kinda shit, could be a fun way to make money….”
She went over to the fridge and pulled out a beer, chugging about half of it in one gulp before belching loudly. This had been some of the most fun Aisha had had in ages with fluffies. It was just so ironic and poetic in a way. All fluffies were natural gluttons. Eating, playing, and fucking were their favorite things to do. Their appetites were very large and they could eat just about anything, with a few exceptions. So killing them by giving them too much of a good thing, betraying one of their fundamental guidelines on how they thought the world worked?!
Fucking estatic.
Not to mention there was just something oh so satisfying to Aisha about how those foals just bulged and popped. It looked uncomfortable, THEY looked helpless and scared, and boy did it sure seem like it was painful.
Finishing off her beer and chucking it into the trash, Aisha cracked open another one and began drinking. She fucking earned this.
Aisha scooped up the remains of Glutton and his buddies and plopped them into a clear plastic bag.
Then, she pondered while she sipped her beer.
“How should I proceed with this….experiment? Should I tell them the truth? Come out as the monstrous abuser that I am? Or should I still play the nice momma who took them in and is trying to fix their little retards?” She glanced over at Glutton’s body again. “And WHY am I talking to myself so much recently? Must be the alcohol.”
Aisha began to pace around the kitchen. “Plus, what to do next? I coooooooooould just “Borrow” a bike pump from Home Depot and go to town on these little freaks, or I could try out pop rocks and soda or pepsi and mentos.” She took another sip and scratched her bald head. “Either way they go boom, painfully.”
She crept to the door of the safe room and placed an ear to it, listening intently. Surprisingly, she heard nothing. “Little bastards must have fallen asleep….” Aisha wondered if they had forgotten about their babies so quickly, though she then deduced that being told they would be brought back to life probably calmed them down enough to doze off. Trusting fucks.
Aisha loved that about them. How trusting they were, how much they wanted companionship. Even the worst smarty or bestest baby needed attention and friends, even if they were awful to them.
The madwoman glanced over to Yakon, who was still sleeping….and farting up a storm. So sketti makes him gassy, hmm? Aisha took a mental note to remember that for later. It might come in handy. At this point she was certain he would be saved for last, she wanted to savor his pain, his humiliation, his terror.
His demise.
Finishing off her second beer, Aisha belched once more and patted her tummy. “Well, better be heading off to bed. I’m fuckin sleeeeeeeepy.” Walking over quickly, albeit wobbly due to the beer, she grabbed Yakon by the yellow scruff of his fat little neck.
Before he even woke up, she opened the door of the saferoom and roughly threw him in before slamming the door, taking a moment to listen to the ensuing chaos.
“Wowd noisies! No wike!”
“Chewwy scawed!”
“Screeee, maek poopies! Nu smeww pwetty!”
“Whewe babbehs? Babbehs cum bak nao? Whewe Ouwple an Ocean?”
“OWWIE, WHA TWOW SMAWTY AT DUMMEH HEWD??!!! DUMMEH HEWD WAEK YAKON UP!! GON GIB YUU AWW SOWWY HOOFSIES!!”
Aisha grinned as she heard Yakon begin to clobber his herd, their pleas falling on deaf ears as he bullied them.
“Sweet dreams, retards.”
…
Shorter chapter this time, sorry! But you guys get to choose what happens next!
Does Aisha keep up the charade of the friendly new bald mummuh? Or does she show off her true, evil colors? Also, bike pump or pop rocks and soda/mentos and pepsi?