xxx by Nomine Anagram

 

07/12/2021

 

 

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"Was I a good sheriff, Mommy?" came the question, asked in a small whiny voice as Sprout and his Mother walked out of Sheriff Hitch's office, the finalization of Sprout's consequences complete.

 

Phyllis groaned inwardly, shaking her head at her son's inane questioning. Of course he hadn't been a good sheriff! But it had been a week now of dodging the question. Thankfully that flying dog had been rather ubiquitous.

 

"Mommy...wasn't I a good sheriff?" Sprput asked again, gently nudging her side. Well, at least it was a change from the initial question.

 

That her foal had the gall to ask that question right now, though...that either spoke of how very clueless he really was, or how desperately he wanted her approval. Or maybe both. Both was probably the right answer.

 

It had been a week now. A whole week since Sunny had gone on her adventure, had met the other tribes, had...had managed to reunite them as one tribe of ponies. Or, at least, to start the process. Phyllis didn't think Sunny really understood how older ponies worked. She and Alphabittle had talked some about that, and about how hard it would be to convince everyone.

 

One whole week since her own son usurped power over the entire city. Since he had become Her Little Dictator.

 

And just now, as they were walking away from Hitch's final word on the penalties Sprout faced for his actions, as Sprout was forever walking away from being Deputy Sheriff, blacklisted from ever holding any public office in Maretime Bay ever again, her foal had the absolute gall to ask…

 

"Wasn't I good at being Sheriff, Mommy?" came that voice again, asking the question that finally drove her over the edge.

 

Phyllis rounded on her son, trotting ahead of him and twisting around to look him dead in the eyes. Those adorable green eyes...No! No being distracted by how cute he was, even now. She had finally had enough.

 

"No!" She snapped, and watched as Sprout jumped in surprise. "No, you were not a good sheriff. You were a bad sheriff! A very bad one, in fact!" She said, letting her frustration and anger spill over into her voice and eyes, making sure he saw how she really felt.

 

Sprout was taken aback, looking a bit scared and shocked at his mommy speaking to him like that, but Phyllis didn't let up. Her foal needed to hear this, and he needed to hear it from her.

 

"Were you a good sheriff? No! A good sheriff doesn't break the law in so many different ways that it isn't even funny! Do you even know what blacklisted means? Do you think Hitch would have said you could never ever be Deputy again, or any other public office either,if you had been a GOOD Sheriff?!" She said, her voice carrying farther with each word. Already there were ponies watching, some with interest, others looking embarrassed. Even Hitch poked his head out of the office at the noise.

 

"But...I didn't break the law, Mommy…" Sprout started to say, before Phyllis just cut him off again.

 

"You didn't break the law? Let's see...you abused your power as Acting Sheriff to declare yourself Emperor of Maretime Bay. You whipped up the entire city into a dangerous mob in the process...and we are receiving copyright complaints from a pegasus mare named Lady RaRa about your little Mob Song. You enslaved the entire town to construct a giant war machine...and embezzled funds from my company to do so, might I add! You destroyed another pony's home AND a national monument all in one swoop. You recklessly endangered the lives of more than one pony! And you stole a foal's ice cream cone as well!" She listed off, tapping her hoof on the ground as she counted up his offenses.

 

"But...Mommy...I…" he started to say, but Phyllis was having none of it.

 

"So that's six felonies and one foalony, plus all the damages caused by the war machine! You should count yourself lucky that I stuck my neck out for you, AND that Hitch is such a sweet and forgiving sheriff. If he wasn't, you'd be in the dungeons right now!" She said, taking a step towards Sprout.

 

"But….Mommy, I had to do those thingsto save us from the evil unicorns and…" Sprout said, but then stopped as his mother stopped.

 

Phyllis looked her son over. Her eyes taking him in. Memories coming back of long ago scoldings. Of how she handled him then. And how he behaved. And it dawned on her. He never had truly grown up. In retrospect, him always calling her Mommy should have been a clue.

 

"No, Sprout. You didn't have to. You wanted to. You wanted to so you could feel big and strong like Hitch. You wanted to be sheriff and have a big toy to play with. You didn't have to do those naughty things. You chose to do them. And you chose to act like a little foal. So I think it's only fair that I punish you like one." She said.

 

Before Sprout could move, she struck, darting forward like a snake and grabbing his ear in her teeth. Dragging him over towards a bench in the square.

 

Of course Sprout wasn't going quietly. He struggled against her, trying to fight her off. "Mommy! Stop! Let go of my ear! Stop it!" He yelled, but to no avail. She was much stronger than he was, and she knew exactly how to pull a naughty little colt into position for a proper punishment.

 

Once they reached the bench, Phyllis dropped her bag on the ground next to it. That done, she took a seat before grabbing Sprout’s forehoof and tugging her still struggling son right down across her knees. This was a familiar position to both of them, though Sprout hadn’t really gotten that many spankings as a foal. Mostly for the times his antics with other foals had gotten out of hoof. Another thing she really should have noticed, her son being a big bully…

 

But there was no time for that kind of introspection right now. Her little foal needed to be taught a lesson!

 

“Mommy, wait! Really, I’m sorry! You don’t have to spank me! I’m not a foal anymore!” Sprout protested, looking around at everypony watching him, definitely not enjoying the position he was in. Already a couple of them were smiling, and a few more hiding grins behind their hooves.

 

“Yes, you are. You’ve been behaving like a foal your entire life.” Phyllis said, before pinning Sprout’s tail to his back and lifting her hoof. “And just because I wasn’t able to notice it doesn’t give you an out. Time to take the spanking you’ve needed since you were a little colt.” she said, before bringing her hoof down with a resounding smack!

 

“OWWW! Mommy, stop! It hurts! I don’t want a spanking!” Sprout whined, trying to free his tail as his forehooves grabbed the bench and tried to pull himself free of her grip.

 

“If you wanted it, it wouldn’t be a punishment, Sprout.” she told him, giving him two more spanks, aiming for the center of his flank for now. “And spankings are supposed to hurt, that’s why they’re a punishment.” she said, before suddenly clapping her hoof down five more times in rapid succession.

 

“Mommy, No!” Sprout cried, each spank met with a gasp of pain and a little choked back noise, too small to even be called a sniffle yet. The crowd around them was growing now, and Hitch had actually walked out of his office to see the show.

 

“Yes, Sprout. This is what your actions earned you. I’m tired of all of it, and I am tired of you asking me that inane question. You were a BAD sheriff! And this is what BAD little foals who play at being sheriff get!” she said, and then really started, her hoof clapping down again and again on Sprout’s upturned rear. Left and right, left and right, three in the center, a short rub to calm the nerves, then repeat once again, each cycle harder than the last.

 

Sprout was no longer the dictator he had been a week ago, or even the little momma’s boy he had been five minutes ago. What the crowd was witnessing now was the amazing transformation of their former overlord into a sniffly blubbering big foal. Each spank was met with another sniffle, a small inhalation, and a cry of pain as his mommy turned his flank even redder than it normally was.

 

Finally, though, Sprout seemed to find his voice and turned his head to her. “O..okay, Mommy I…OWWY!...I learned my lesson, I won’t…OUCH!....I won’t do it again!” he tried to say, but a series of ten blistering strikes put an end to his pleading.

 

“Your spanking ends when I say it does, Sprout Cloverleaf!” Phyllis said, causing the crowd to gasp, one unicorn foal suddenly covering his mouth with his hooves. “Oooh, she said the Full Name! He’s in BIG trouble, huh?” he said to another foal nearby.

 

And then, above the noise of the crowd, there came another voice. "Mommy, Look!" said a small green foal, pointing his hoof at Sprout before his mother pushed it back down, scolding him for pointing. "But Mommy! Look!" He said, pointing again. "The Bad Sheriff who stole my ice cream is getting a spanking from his Mommy!"

 

Sprout looked like he wanted to just fade away now, but all he could do was put his head under his forehooves, hoping the world would just go away and ignore him. A hope soon dashed as he felt his mother beckon with her free hoof.

 

“Yes, you…I’m sorry I don’t know your name. You’re the one who my son stole ice cream from?” Phyllis asked.

 

“Yes, Miss Cloverleaf!” that same small voice answered.

 

“Good. Then maybe you can do me a favor? You know the store that sells parenting supplies, right over there? Here’s twenty bits, can you nip in there and buy me a paddle to use on my naughty foal here?” she asked, and Sprout heard the clinking of bits. “Make sure you get a good one!”

 

“I will!” came the answer, and then a scampering of hooves. And then dead silence, broken only by small bouts of laughter from other ponies.

 

Sprout finally worked up the courage to speak again. “M…Mommy…I promise I’ll be good…” he said, then winced as he felt his mother’s hoof rub his tenderized rump. “Owww…that really stings…”

 

“It’s going to sting even more in a minute, Sprout.” came the stern answer. “You aren’t getting out of this until I am one hundred percent certain you have paid for every single naughty nasty mean cruel thing you did.” she said. “And you can save the promises for later. I don’t want to hear them, you’re just trying to get out of being punished. You aren’t actually sorry.”

 

Sprout winced and dove back under his hooves, only to find his sanctuary removed as his mother took them from atop his head and pinned them to his back, right over his tail. “No more of that. You look at the ponies you hurt. See them laugh at you. You were a Bad Sheriff.”

 

Sprout could see them, alright, even though he didn’t want to. They were all pointing and laughing now, especially the foals. And one foal in particular was running towards them with…no….

 

Oh no no no no no please no….

 

“Mommy no! Not that paddle!” he squealed, seeing the colt run back towards them with the shop’s display paddle, a thick ebony piece of work that the shopkeeper used to discipline shoplifters.

 

“The shopkeeper said you could borrow this instead, and to keep your bits!” the ice cream foal said, grinning. “He said just knowing that this was gonna be used on the bad sheriff was enough for him!”

 

Sprout whimpered as he looked over that paddle, seeing the heavy ebony wood, the holes drilled into it. He had never felt it touch him, thankfully…but it seemed that was about to change as he watched his mother take the paddle from the foal with a grin. He whimpered as he felt it tap tap right on his rump, even those tiny little love taps causing him to squeak in pain.

 

“Well, you certainly moved quite fast, sweetie. Why don’t you take that twenty and go buy yourself and your friends some more ice cream.” she said, before turning her attention back to her red-bottomed big baby laying across her lap. “And as for you, My Little Usurper, I think it’s time for you to feel this paddle work it’s magic.” she said, and lifted the paddle before a shout rang out.

 

“BING BONG!”

 

The entire crowd turned to watch a trio of unicorn foals doing a little dance in the middle of the square, their mother dancing alongside them.

 

Seeing that all eyes were on them, the little family blushed a little after finishing their dance. “Sorry.” their mother said, rubbing the back of her head. “It’s just that old habits die hard.”

 

Phyllis waved a hoof at them and smiled in response before turning back to her son and rubbing that heavy wood on his rump a little bit more. “I hope you remember, Sprout…your actions earned you what is coming, she said, lifting the paddle up high as her son whined and watched it out of the corner of his eye, clenching in anticipation.