“And here’s our current litter!” Kevin smiled as he led her guest to the saferoom. There was a small, buttery yellow pegasus mare with an auburn mane. Playing around her were four foals.
“Oh… I thought you said they were minis,” the brunette woman frowned.
Kevin’s smile twitched. “They are, this is as small as they get. Are you maybe thinking of micros?”
“No, my daughter wanted a mini like Cookie. Anyway, thanks for your time, I think I’m going to look elsewhere,” the woman gave an apologetic smile. Kevin apologized for the mistake and led her out.
As soon as she was out the door he groaned. Every prospective owner he’d shown this litter to had the same complaint- his fluffies were too big. It was just his luck that a month ago a “mini” named cookie owned by a celebrity had gone viral. Being an experienced breeder, Kevin recognized the fluffy in the photos was just a derped runt, but the damage had been done.
Kevin needed to figure something out and fast. He now was on his third hard-to-sell litter with another due in a week. He knew another hard-to-sell litter would start to tank his operation, so he threw some parsley on a bowl of canned pasta and walked into the pregnant mare’s room.
“Hewwo daddeh! Bwing good skettis foh soon-mummah Wady?” a peachy-pink mare, round as a beach ball, squeaked as she wiggled her tail and bounced excitedly.
Kevin smiled and stroked her black mane. “Of course, only the best for my fancy little Lady!” He placed the bowl down with a sad smile. It was her first litter and she had been so excited and happy about it, terminating it was a shame. He walked out of the room and waited until…
“Hnn! BIGGEST POOPIES!”
Kevin came running in with a first aid kit.
“Wai tummeh babbehs come out? Thew not weady!” Lady cried as blood and fluids came out of her vulva with each contraction.
Kevin used one hand to hold her tail up on her back as he watch and wiped blood and feces off of her. "I’m sorry Lady, these things just happen sometimes, there’s nothing that could’ve prevented it, " he lied.
One by one, ten hairless foals slid out onto the ground covered in blood, mucus, and bits of placenta. Lady turned around, eyes full of tears. “Babbehs! Pwease babbehs!” She started to lick and nuzzle them while Kevin just looked on sadly. It only felt right to let her grieve before taking them away.
A soft peeping broke through the sounds of licking. Kevin’s eyes went wide- some of them were alive! He bent down and counted. Six out of ten had survived their premature birth.
As Lady started to nurse the survivors on her fat teats, Kevin noted how much smaller they were than a normal newborn. He got an idea, one that made him feel briefly guilty. No, no need to feel guilty. They weren’t supposed to be alive anyway.
“I’m sorry Lady. I don’t think that you will be able to take care of them,” Kevin said with a look of false concern, “They’re too small and they’re sick. They need special care.” He started collecting the dead foals in a plastic bag.
“Babbies hab sickies?” Lady’s eyes went huge, “Am bad mummah?”
“No no, of course not! Humans just have special medicine to help fluffies when huggies and love aren’t enough!”
Lady nodded sadly. “Otay. Wady unnewstand. Daddeh hewp babbehs pwease.”
He patted her head as he gathered up the foals. “That’s my good little mummah.”
~
Kevin’s basement had been converted into a makeshift nursery. Lady’s six foals each rested in their own incubators built out of tupperware. Kevin had barely slept for the past three days, delivering drops of milk every 30 minutes. Every six hours he needed to stimulate defecation with a warm washcloth. He stayed active on breeder forums getting advice from others who had dealt with preemie foals before.
Kevin modified their advice a bit- he gave less than the recommended amount of milk- only enough to stop the chirping. He didn’t give them beds or blankets for warmth. They had grown a bit, but each day they fell further and further behind their expected weight.
After a week the preemies had a sparse coat of fur- way thinner than a newborn should have, and not thick enough to determine color. Horn nubs had developed on foreheads- barely visible little bumps. One pegasus, one alicorn, two unicorns, and two earthies was the count.
~
The foals were now two weeks old. They should have been opening their eyes now, but only the two earthies had. Their fur was still short and thin, but was now dense enough to tell color, they even had the beginnings of scraggly manes.
The alicorn had become a lovely pink with a maroon mane, the pegasus was cream and pink, the unicorns were both shades of coral with blue manes, and the earthies were a red and black and a lavender and purple. They were all underweight, but one of the unicorns, a male, was in especially bad shape.
Meanwhile the previous litter had gone unsold. He took them to his local Fluffmart and handed them over at a steep discount. He grimaced as he gave the cashier the pedigree paperwork knowing his hard work was destined for the ‘last chance’ bin. This little experiment of his had better fucking work.
~
The foals were all beginning to try crawling and scooting around, but lacked the strength to do so. Kevin realized he needed to increase their calorie intake to continue to keep them alive. He gradually added more to their meals until they had the energy to scoot back and forth the length of their incubators.
The increased food also encouraged their eyes to open and manes to fill in. Except for the one unicorn. His body condition had been getting worse and worse. His mouth was also constantly stained with feces- in his desperation for sustenance he had taken up eating his own shit.
Kevin tried increasing the foal’s food and adding supplements, but without success as anything additional got thrown up. Finally he decided to try a tube-feed. He picked up the foal and gently pinched the sides of its head to open the jaw. He lubricated the tube with a little coconut oil and slid it down the foal’s throat, cutting off its frightened peeping. He then took a syringe full of milk and started to empty it into the tube until-
“Oh fuck!” bloody milk started spraying out of the foal’s nostrils and onto Kevin’s pants. He pulled out the tube and watched as the underweight foal gasped and foamed. He quickly realized what had happened- he had stuck the tube down the foal’s trachea instead of the esophagus and filled its lungs with milk.
He dropped the foal back into the tub and just stared, face cold and drained of blood. The foal twisted and gurgled as foamy fluid filled its mouth. In its pain and panic it opened its eyes- underdeveloped but they still rolled up to lock with Kevin’s. Wet feces dribbled out of its back end, covering its tail. The foal’s front hooves scraped desperately at its mouth and throat, but it was no use.
Kevin reached down with one hand and attempted to snap the dying foal’s neck and end its suffering. He failed, only pulling its neck back painfully, getting a horrific gurgling screech that sent the rest of the foals into loud, frightened crying fits. In a panic he pulled his hand out and tossed the foal to the ground where it continued to writhe.
He stomped with his bare foot, recoiling at the squirming, squishy wetness. The damn thing’s guts were blasting out its backend but it kept moving. He stomped it again and again until it stopped. And then, the smell of gore, feces, and souring milk sank into his mind triggering Kevin to vomit. “Oh fuck…”
~
It had been days since the incident with the unicorn, and the remaining foals were starting to babble and attempting to stand. Once again their feed was increased, with more supplements added.
“Deh-deh, wook! Fwuvvy walk!” the pegasus squeaked as it scooted itself onto its hooves. It lifted one leg and lost its balance, and plopped onto its butt. To a lay-person this would have been cute. To Kevin it was a dilemma- get them to walk and risk them growing too big, or keep them small and risk them being immobile.
“Fuff stan! Fuff stan! Dah! Dah! Dah! Fuff stan!” The alicorn’s squeaking got Kevin’s attention. He saw the foal was standing so the edge of the litter dish was resting between the foal’s front and back legs acting as a support. Kevin smiled, a solution to his problem materializing before him.
He collected the laces from several pairs of shoes and took them to the basement. He tied them into loops and suspended them from the tops of the incubators before placing the foals in the slings- one loop behind their forelegs, another in front of their hind legs. The slings were then adjusted so that the foals legs were bearing most of the weight.
The foals giggled and bounced, pushing themselves to swing lightly in their slings. “There you guys go, learning to stand and walk should be a little easier now!” He rubbed each foal behind the ears.
It didn’t take long before “Dehdah… fwuff wa dow…” the remaining unicorn whimpered. Kevin saw the rest of them showing signs of exhaustion.
“I know, I know darlings. Just a little longer…” he set a timer for five minutes.
This continued for a week with Kevin increasing the time spent in the slings and decreasing the weight held up. He had started to incorporate wet food into their diets, but still used milk to lure them into stretching or walking more. The foals’ legs were developing more muscle tone as well as spending more time standing and walking unassisted, and any extra calories were spent on this remedial exercise rather than on growth.
It seemed to be perfect.
Kevin did his morning foal care routine- feeding, cleaning litter, and giving the foals a towel bath before placing them in their slings. They had more slack today with the laces hanging loose under their bodies. Satisfied with his chores done, Kevin went up the stairs to shower.
The foals wobbled back and forth, some laying down into the sling to relax. One of the earthies snorted unhappily. “Swing dummeh. Nu wan dummeh swing nu more!” He started to wiggle and jump until his hind legs got loose. “Dummeh swing nu hold fwuffy!” He raised his forelegs and lifted one of them free.
He stumbled, twisting the cord around his leg. “Nu! Dummeh swing leggo!” He started buting at the cord, pivoting in a circle as he couldn’t maintain his balance. The loop twisted tighter and tighter around his leg. “SCREEEE! LEGGO! LEGGO!” The foal started chewing and thrashing more desperately, twisting the loop around his neck. It only got tighter and tighter, pressure building behind his eyes.
Had he a bit more energy, strength, and mass, he may have been able to get free, or at least prevent himself from going limp. As his weight pulled his body down, the cord finally sealed the foal’s throat. Meanwhile Kevin happily cooked and ate scrambled eggs.
An hour and a half had passed by the time Kevin went back into the basement. It was oddly quiet. “Darlings? Everything alright?”
The alicorn sniffled. “Sumting… wong. Scawy noises from odder foaw, den. Nu noises.”
Kevin’s eyes went wide. “No, no, no!” He looked at the containers and saw the earthie, eyes bulged and tongue swollen and purple, the lavender fur on its rear matted with drying feces and urine. He quickly pulled the foal out of the sling. It was too late. The body was cold, the bulging eyes milky, and the joints stiff.
~
It was the foals’ final week before being sold. They had been moved from their incubators to a small saferoom outfitted with a litterbox and a scattering of safe toys. The slings had been retired after the strangling, but Kevin was determined to make them safer for next time.
He posed the foals next to an adult mini and a micro he had borrowed from a friend, showing their size and shape. They were larger than newborns, but not by much. Their fluff was wispier and more sparse. Their heads were larger and more domed, similar in shape to a newborn’s.
They were quickly all reserved and purchased- even at a price set to three times his usual charge. Many more prospective buyers requested a place on a waitlist.
~
It had been months since Kevin’s first ‘micro minis’ had been sold. Today he had just delivered a new litter and set them up in their own incubators, making for his fourth litter in progress at the same time.
Kevin called up his sister, Kaylee, to help out. He knew she’d rather torment fluffies than nurture them, but he also knew she’d happily do as told if she got payed.
When she arrived, Kevin showed her the saferooms, the breeding mares, and finally the nursery. Her eyes widened as she saw the fragile, underdeveloped, and malnourished foals, some suspended in slings. As Kevin’s methods had been refined, he was able to cut down their feed, making some of them look outright skeletal.
“Jesus Kev,” Kaylee looked at her brother, “At least I just kill the poor fuckers.”
~
Sort of a story version of Micro-Mini Fluffs (idkman) to show the process. I might write the fates of the first litter at some point.
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