Jake pulled into the driveway of his home slash home office, a modest two story next to a large steel barn to it’s left and an smaller one to the right. A small scrapyard in the back and the surrounding areas had dozens of small fluffy pens each sorted by gender and color. At one end his two grown boys were expanding the pen area using a trench cutter to bury a roll of chicken wire and chain link fencing a foot down as the base layer of the fluffy proofing. His trailer was filled to capacity after emptying trap 14, he had to shove the extras into any carriers he had left, he honked his horn as he pulled up to the big barn getting his boys attention. dropping what they were doing they met him at the main door as he slid it open, Stalker trotting off to enjoy some free time looked for something to chase.
“Boys get your sister an Ma, we got some sorting to do.”
Backing the trailer into the barn he stopped before a large chain link pen, the boys looking much like him came in with two short women.
'Jr., Mark, get the gate, it’s just skins and meat today everyone. We’re not keeping any for our stocks today, it all needs to go to fill the next order for that weird ass fashion designer. Hell we might have to dip into the pens to do it. the color list is on the wall by the door grab a fluffy and lets get to it."
The ramp was dropped and the fluffies were scared out of the trailer by Mark and Jr. banging on the trailer with some bats while yelling into it. the entire right side of the barn was one long work station dedicated to the skinning and butchering of meet, the left, one big walk in freezer, again, Earl.
“Oh and we need to top off the pheromone tanks so collect the genitals too.”
everyone got to work grabbing the nearest fluffy and took it to their station, the entire shelf was steel with industrial sinks and a rack of blades on the wall held up by a magnetic bar. Candice, his daughter, was the first to get a fluffy to her station, a male, she pinned it down by mid-back and jammed a cork up his ass then clipped his nuts off with some branch clippers. His shrieks brought a deathly silence to the rest in the pen who watched as in a matter of seconds his hide was ripped off from head to tail. when his screaming skinless head popped over the edge of the counter caused a strangely harmonious scream and and shit storm in unison. the skinless fluffy’s screams were literally cut short when a meat cleaver chopped off his head and caught before it hit the ground. chopping the head in half she then scooped out the brains into a large bucket and the nuts into a smaller one, the inside out skin was hung off a nearby line. the body and head were dropped into a steel horse trough on wheels, each station had one and when it was full rolled into the freezer and a new one was taken from the row next to the freezer.
Now, when things went to shit, in some cases quite literally, from the fluffies a lot of business’s tanked. Farming, fast food, cotton, honey, all fucked for years, $5 for an ear of corn and you don’t wanna know about the stoners. but some got a revitalization like no other, the fur industry was all but dead then as a collective FUCK YOU to PETA it roared back to life. PETA was NOT popular these days, many people were hostile if not actively violent towards anyone associated with the organization. And the terror tactics, so many fluffies nailed to things and set on fire on their lawns and crammed into places it could make the steeliest stomach churn. most either quit or simply “Vanished” and from the smoke of their ashes rose the fur industry and with no laws on fluffy protection, they could be as cruel as they pleased with the harvest. Boas, Ugg boots, bomber Jackets, you name it they made it because fuck PETA.
With the last fluffy skinned and froze Jake left his kids to hose off the workspace while he walked to the smaller barn where the breeding stockade was kept, with his wife Clara in tow.
“We still need 4 reds, 3 green and surprisingly 8 brown.” Clara noted looking over a clipboard as she walked with him.
“Bomber jackets. They’re makin a comeback.” Sliding open the barn door.
the right side was filled with cages just big enough to hold a single fluffy, 60 in total, all full. the left supplies and equipment and the back, the stockades. the stockade was a fluffy sized stockade with a milk crate over the head area for protecting the mare from the overly horny and stupid stallions. A support bar was mounted under the chest to keep the mare from strangling itself when it would eventually go limp. it had four straps for the legs and a curved and cushioned underside to accommodate the growing bellies and a set of milker vacs. once a mare was strapped in she was never let out and given reset commands that made them obsessed with one thing only, making babies. with feeding tubes fed through the crates and waste hoses stuffed up their asses, they sat in three rows, 10 long along one wall five across the back wall and ten more alone the other wall. scurrying around in between them were a four fluffies tending to the dams, a removable basket sat at the dams ass end to catch the foals as they’re birthed. The Nana fluffs, given specific reset commands would then lick the foals clean and sort them into a central nest in the middle by color and gender and rarity. each mini nest had four feeding nipples hooked up to a central tank constantly being refilled by the milked dams.
“Nana 1!” Jake called out.
A teal blue unicorn mare trotted up to the edge of the breeding pit
Yes, Mistuh Jake?- putting her hooves on the fence.
“Anything we need to know?”
numba wun seben had mo bebbehs bu wots ov boo boo juice den foweba sweepies. got aw da bebbehs owt.
“Well shit and she just turned 10. (Sigh) Hun, go get cage 4 and 42, those two are next in line for the test pairing. I’ll go get the body. Did we at least get anything good out of her last litter?” looking back to Nana 1 as he stepped over the fence.
twee bwue wingy, fo wed pointy, two wed wingy, fibe weguwaw gweens.-keeping pace with Jake.
unstrapping the dead mare the vacuum hose had drained her bowels leaving little mess to clean. unlatching the stockade he tucked the body under his arm as Clara approached with two cages.
“Here, trade ya.” holding out the cage with the mare.
What happened next neither could have predicted, while he was strapping the mare in she suddenly went…
oooh gun wide du baby maykew, toytah daddeh.
“The fuck?! Clara, who reset this fluffy?”
“Who do you think?” holding out the clipboard.
“Fuckin Earl, what the hell man? now he giving them fetishes?”
“You need to talk with you’re cousin, he can’t be experimenting with the products.” Trying her damnedest no to laugh.
Before shutting the stockade and basket over her head he grabbed the feeding line and held it to the new 17’s face.
“This is the food straw, bite the end lightly and drink the nummies when you are hungry. understand?”
yesh, daddeh."
“Stop that.” shutting the stockade and latching it shut. the placard next to it read #17. Then Clara opened cage 42 and a bright blue earthy with green mane climbed out locked in a chastity belt.
enfies? enfies nao? pwease? tyme fo enfies? enfies enfies enfies -constantly rutting his belt- the results of another custom reset.
the second she unlocked 42’s belt he got to work on the new 17 with far more vigor than thought possible for a fluffy.
“speak of the devil, here he comes with the trailer.” Jake noticed looking up.
They both could see Earl pulling into the driveway his primer coated homemade electric van moved near silently, save for the ruckus of the hundred or so fluffies he pulled. this trailer was meant to carry six regular horses, modified for fluffies, 200+.
Jake met his cousin at his driver side window who was all smiles under his oversized mustache.
“Man this thing is fuckin packed! and i filled every carrier i had and i still had to leave some behind. we gotta go back and get the rest soon. we’re gonna need the 4 horse trailer for the rest the 2 wont do.”
“Jesus you serious?”
Earl dug out his phone and opened the live cam app for trap 25 and it was still at least a quarter full. A lab/Shepard mix leapt out the passenger window and ran off to find Stalker as Earl got out to show off the catch of the day. Sliding open the side door of his panel van and it was floor to ceiling carriers, all full.
“dude this herd is huge, all brown/alicorn friendly that was started by a runaway designer pair of alicorns, killed any smarty they came across and absorbed their herds killing any that refused. they were fuckin headed for Cleveland when we got em.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Lil’ shits told me.”
pulling out a carrier Earl held it up and showed what was inside, two alicorns, both shiny and sparkly, a gold mare with rainbow mane/ tail and a silver stallion with gold mane/tail.
“AND, they’re fertile, there’s a dozen more similar in the carriers. the silver one said “Mummuh payed ecktwa for bebbeh maykuhs to stiww werk” can you believe that shit? this is the jackpot! some fuck musta bribed someone to get 'em unfixed at the labs.”
“We. Are going. to be. fucking. rich.”
“I know right? is it weird to get wood when thinking of fluffies?”
“Speaking of which… why the hell did you give my breeding stock a bondage fetish?”
“Oh shit right i forgot to tell you, i’m trying to expand their lifespans in the stockades by making them think they love it so that the mind has something more to keep 'em working that just babies, babies,babies.”
“I think you took it a little too far. the damn thing almost uwu-ed at me. fucking freaky.” Chuckling the whole sentence.
“I’ll work on it. Oh, i figured out how to make the scree-ball table better. surround the edges of the holes with horizontal razor blades and the catch bin is filled with lemon juice and salt.”
“Yeah yeah, that’s fine.” Eyes still locked on the carrier.
Hewwo, whoo awe 'ou?- the stallion asked tilting his head. "Noo daddeh?"
“Oh no, I’m the Sketti-man.”
coming soon- the emergency call.