I had my new fluffy, Lola for a few weeks now. She had clamoured on about how she wanted babies for weeks and weeks, until I finally relented and let her get pregnant, all thanks to a random feral. She was happy now, and getting close to her day of birth.
“I wik babbehs, babbehs be gud, I be gud mummah! I haf wots of babbehs, and wove dem all!”” she chirped, laying in her basket, fat and stuck on her little legs.
I went to leave her to it, when she began chirping about needed the toilet. I knew this was time. I bent down next to her and picked her up, carrying her to the birthing newspaper.
“Nu daddeh, need poopies, need go witter box, Nu be bad fwuffy!”
I lay her down and faced her towards a bowl of spaghetti, which soon shut her up.
“Ooh, sketties, I wik nummies! Make miwk for babbehs!” she cried, as she began chewing.
At this point I darted off to a nearby room and picked up an empty box. It was my breeding room. Ever since she wanted babies, I had come up with a brilliant idea. I started plucking the babies off all the mothers in the room, stuffing them into the box. They all cried about me stealing their babies, threatening me with owies, but they'd soon forget.
Once the box was full with about twenty five babies, I returned to Lola, who had just begun to push out the first baby. She heard it crying and called for it, wanting it to reach her.
“Hewe babbeh, I gud mummah, come to mummah, I gif hugsies and miwkies!”
The little foal crawled blindly to her and began to be fed on her stomach, sucking at her teet, while Lola continued to eat her spaghetti, feeding the babies. I stood watching as she birthed another two foals, before the afterbirth came out. She cradled all the babies happily. Surprisingly not a single runt was born.
I smiled at her and the babies, before scooping up the afterbirth and pouring it all over the babies I had in the box. I then tipped them all out onto the floor next to Lola's ass, and gave my best fake gasp. She looked up at me in surprise, while her three babies suckled at her teets.
“Wha wong daddeh? Babbehs gif owies?” she said, before reaching to strike one of the babies on her chest. I reached down and steadied her hoof.
“No Lola, you've got a lot more babies here! Look!” I picked up the other newborns and pushed them around to the mothers teets, watching her surprise as she saw a massive pile of writhing babies.
“wotta babbehs! I gud mummah, I gif wots of husgies and miwkies!” she cheered, as the first baby latched onto her last teet. She soon realised the problem when the other twenty four lay on the ground, chirping, no teets left for them to suckle on.
I walked out of the room and left her to it, with her twenty five babies.
I came back the next day, only to find Lola laying in the middle of the floor, crying as all her babies crawled over her, sucking her teets even though they were dry, and red raw.
“Nu babbehs, gif mummah owies! Go way!” she cried, slapping them off. To my surprise, several foals lay around the room bruised, others appeared malnourished, calling out for nummies, wailing about tummy huwties.
“Lola, what happened here?” I asked her.
“Too many babbehs! I nu got nough miwkes! Sum bad babbehs, gif owies!”
I shook my head at her and put some more food into the room, before shutting the door. The foals tried to eat the spaghetti, without success. There was a loud chorus of chirps and cries.
“Mummah, gif miwkies, got tummie huwties! Pwease gif hugsies, tummie huwties!”
I laughed and started preparing the next stage of the plan, while Lola started nomming and tried to feed all the babies at once.
The next day I went back in, and saw a wonderful sight. Several babies had died and lay on the floor, stiff and rigid. Others were fighting to suck on Lola's dried out teets, while a select few lay about, sucking each others dicks in a vain attempt to stave off starvation. Shit lay eveywhere, stinking up the place, matting up Lola's fur.
“Lola, you need to feed them all!” I cried.
She looked up and me, fatigued and weeping.
“I nu got nough miwkies, babbehs dwink it aww! I nu can feed babbehs, daddeh pwease hewp!”
“I can't help Lola, you need to deal with it. If you can't feed them all, you need to get rid of some of them,”
She looked at me and started to cry, before turning to the few babies that suckled at her teets. She gripped one in her hooves and held it up to her face.
“Mummeh is sowwy babbeh, I nu can feed yu!” She put the baby in her mouth and bit down on its head, tearing it apart.
The other babies saw this and began crying, running around in panic.
“Mummah gif owies to bwudda, gif bwudda wong sweepies! Scawed! Nu gif owies mummah!”
The pleas went unheeded as she grabbed another one and bit his head off, blood spurting about her. I laughed, before intervening, grabbing the next baby from her hands.
“Hold on Lola, I'll bring in another mother to feed them, don't you worry.”
She smiled widely and began to laugh.
“Tank yu daddeh, tank yu! Pwease gif babbehs nummies!”
I went to the birthing room and grabbed a swollen mother, putting her in the spare room. Instantly, several of the foals latched onto her four teets and began sucking contentedly, while others fought over who got the next turn. I decided to remain in the room, watching.
“Tank yu daddeh, yu gif babbehs nummies! Mummah wuv babbehs!”
As she spoke, the new mother piped up.
“Dese babbehs are mine nau. Yu nu get babbehs, my babbehs!” She said, hugging them tightly to her chest.
Lola didn't like this, and slowly got up on her weakening strength, grabbing the new mother with her teeth.
“Nu, babbehs are Wowa's! Gif ma babbehs back!” She grabbed a baby off the feeding mothers chest, lifting it away, when the new mother grabbed it with her own teeth.
The pair soon started fighting over the baby, playing tug of war, oblivious to it;s suffering.
“Nu, mummah gif owies! Put babbeh down, I gud babbeh!”
The mothers continued to fight however, until the baby tore in half, spraying blood all over the floor.
“Nu, yu gif babbeh owies! Hewe Babbeh, Mummah gif hugsies, make bewa!” Lola bent down to grab the foals front half hugging him tightly, only causing more blood and guts to spray onto the floor.
The other mother picked up more babies and began feeding them, coo'ing gently to them. Lola grew enraged and started killing all her babies in anger, wanting them all to herself. I grabbed her by the mane and lifted her up sharply.
“Lola, what are you doing? I thought you wanted all your babies!”
“Nu Daddeh, I wan babbehs, but nu wan smewwy fwuffy steawin babbehs! I gif babbehs wong sweepies to sawe dem!”
I smiled.
“Want me to help you, Lola?”
She nodded happily. “Yes pwease, Daddeh gif wong sweepies!”
I bent down and picked up all the babies that weren't being fed by the new mother, holding them tightly in my arms. The new mother didn't care, she had four babies again and was happy. I carried Lola and all t he babies out into the kitchen, putting them on the side. Lola smiled.
“Tank yu daddeh, gif babbehs wong sweepies!”
I grabbed out the kitchen blender and filled the jug up with milk. I grabbed a few of the babies and dropped them in. I had twenty in total to kill, so it would take a while.
“ooh, Gif babbehs Miwkies! Tank yu Daddeh, mak babbehs big and stwong!” she smiled.
I laughed and put the lid on the blender, watching as the foals struggled to swim in the milk, barely treading water. I flicked the switch bringing the blender to life, watching as the foals spun round and reached the blades, flooding the pristine white milk with bursts of red, tainting it's purity.
“Bye Babbehs, yu go wong sweepies! Mummah wuv oo!”
I laughed and dropped more in, several began crying and whimpering as they realised what was happening.
“Mummah, no, scawy munsta, gif hugsies! Nu wan owies!” I turned the blender on again and watched as they made contact with the blade, being turned into a pulp.
I carried on in this fashion until all were dead, all the while Lola looked on, crying and smiling as her babies died. I turned to her and poured out the contents of the blender into a glass.
“Happy now Lola, all your babies are dead?”
“Yes, tank yu Daddeh! Babbehs go wong sweepies, dey no suffer or be woved by other mummah!”
“Good. Now, drink up your babies. It'l make you strong.”
She shook her head and looked confused.
“Nu dwink babbehs, babbehs nu for dwinkin!”
“Shut your fucking face and drink it, you murdering bitch.” I grabbed her mouth and forced it open, pouring the bloody milk in. Several lumps made their way through, a leg or too, several horns and wings running into Lola's mouth. She cried out and gagged as they went down her oesophagus.
“Happy now, your babbehs are with you again?”
She shook her head and cried. “Nu, huu huu, nu wik dwink babbehs!”
I laughed and cracked her around the head, before throwing her out into the garden. The foxes would have fun tonight.
