Jerome stared towards Seth as he held the runt in his palm, his mentor smiling as he quietly pondered the wriggling, peeping mass in his gloved hand. It was like he was somewhere else, unable to hear even as the teen tried to ask him about the stunted alicorn.
“…aren’t those rare? Seth?”
“Huh? What?”
“Aren’t alicorns rare?”
Looking up from the undersized colt, Seth realized that he had been lost in thought, his mind racing with the possibilities the tiny fluff in his hand could bring. “…Oh, right. Yeah, alicorns are exceptionally uncommon…”
“So, you hit the jackpot then? How much is the little fucker worth?”
“Not much probably…” Seth carried the foal over to Bullet, careful to obscure it slightly from her as he placed it against her to latch. Still screeching and flailing from the hot water, the runt quickly calmed and began to nurse. “…With his colors and how stunted he is, I probably could get maybe a few bucks, more if I got lucky.” Still exhausted from the birthing, Bullet took rapid breaths, only half awake as she softly sung to her slumbering foals, thankfully unaware of the colt that was now kneading against her.
“Mummah wuv babbehs…”
“Babbehs wuv mummmah…”
“Dwink wots of miwkies…”
“Gwow, big an’ stwong!”
For now, it was enough that the runt was being fed. Once they were strong enough from a days’ worth of their mother’s milk, they could safely be switched to formula. And if Bullet were to refuse, well there were other avenues that Seth could seek out. Seeing how cautious he was being with the foal despite hearing how little it was worth confused Jerome who was watching it feed alongside his mentor. If it wasn’t of any value, why be so excited, why bother saving it?
“I don’t get it then. If it ain’t worth any money, then why go through all that trouble for it? Oh?! I bet you’re gonna breed him or something, right?”
“That’s what most people think when they find one. But no. It’s not well known but most alicorns are born sterile. Only about one in fifty can produce offspring, and being a runt pretty much confirms his genes end with him…” Even as he explained how little use the colt was to him, Seth spoke softly, leaning over and petting gingerly against the feeding alicorn with a gloved finger, the colt occasionally nuzzling against him. “…Looks like he’s already forgotten about his bath…” Still perplexed, Jerome stared down as the colt finished nursing, milk dribbling down his cheek as he blindly rubbed his head against Seth’s hand, cooing contently.
“Then why save the little dude?”
“It’s hard to explain kid. Alicorns are…special. They don’t turn up very often and when they do, well let’s just say it’s seldom forgettable…” His smile souring, Seth carefully picked up the runt, slowly placing it within the foalpile and watched, his eyes fixated on Bullet who was still still recovering. Her eyes were unfocused but as she continued her meek song, she saw the newest addition to the peeping mass she was cradled against. Sniffing the air, she jerked abruptly, her eyes shooting open as she stared down at the mustard-colored fluff. Standing upright, she sent her progeny tumbling in a confused and peeping mess as she glared, her front hoof slowly rising in the air.
“M…M…M…MUNSTAH BABBEH!!! MUNSTAH WEEB MUMMAH’S BABBEHS 'WONE!!!”
Before she could bring her hoof down, Seth intervened, placing his arm over the foalpile. Despite how weak fluffies were, he could feel the effort as she pressed her weight against her leg, knowing that the runt would have never survived it. Bullet backed away slightly as she saw him protecting the monster, almost as though she couldn’t fathom what she was seeing.
“W…Wai nices’ mistuh sabe munstah babbeh?!”
The next few moments were crucial for Bullet, whether she knew it or not. As long as she was willing to care for the foals, she would be spared from whatever Jerome had planned for her until tomorrow. Still using his arm to keep the foals separated from her, Seth spoke in an eased but firm tone, curious how things would play out. “Bullet, that foal isn’t a monster. He’s your baby, just like all the others and you have to take care of him.” He watched closely to gauge her reaction, but it didn’t take long to see that things were heading south. Puffing up her cheeks, Bullet started to stomp her front hooves against her bed, trying her best to appear intimidating as she glared hatefully towards the runt just behind Seth’s arm.
“Nu! Dat am munstah babbeh! An’ munstah babbeh gowna gib odah babbehs wowstest huwties! Mummah nee’ sabe babbehs an’ gib munstah babbeh sowwy hoofsies an’ foweba sweepies!”
“Jesus…Why is she freaking out?”
Standing beside Seth, Jerome was staring in disbelief as Bullet raged, shouting as she stamped her marshmallow hooves in defiance. He’d seen her be bratty before, even belligerent when the teen had abducted her, but even then she hadn’t seemed as outright hostile as she was right now, trying her best to get past Seth and trample the alicorn runt to death. Seth seemed far less surprised by her outburst, shifting his arm and grabbing her by the chest before pushing her back. Sighing as the new mother shrieked and screamed, it was as though he were more exasperated than outright angry. “…Damn. There’s a water cushion in the bag over there kid. Go fill it up with hot water and bring it back here…Looks like the foals are going to need it.”
While he was unclear on what was happening, Jerome could tell from his detached tone that he was in no mood to explain just yet. Fetching the rubber cushion, the teen hurried to the utility sink and ran the tap until the water was good and hot, filling it until it swelled and was warm to the touch before sealing it back up. As he walked it back to the table, Seth had hoisted the defiant mare by her scruff, prompting a great deal of flailing and shrieking.
“BA’ UPSIES!!! *SCREEEEEEE!!! WET BUWW’IT GU!!! BABBEHS NEE’ MUMMAH!!! BABBEHS NEE’ MUMMAH!!! *SCREEEEEEE!!!”
With little fanfare Seth tossed her in the carrier and locked the grating in place before returning to the fluffy bed. Taking the warming cushion from Jerome, he worked it carefully into the blanketing of the bed, making sure that the heat was strong enough to pass through the fabric well. Once done, he turned his attention to the foals who were now peeping and warbling in a panic, trying to alert their mother that they were cold and frightened. Taking them in his hand, Seth lightly stroked each with his finger to calm them slightly before placing them back on the bed, the warmth of the cushion quickly soothing the foals, their peeps now far slower and calm. Some of the foals still tried to raise their heads and peep, wondering where Bullet had gone, but with full bellies and the serene warmth of the bed, they quickly wore themselves out, crawling into a pile once again before falling asleep. With an exasperated sigh, Seth visibly untensed once the little fluffs drifted off.“…It’ll have to do until I get them home.”
“What the hell happened? It looked she was ready to kill the runt…”
“She was kid…” Seth walked over to the sink, removing his gloves before washing his hands free of the blood and muck from the foal’s birthing. “…Most fluffies are outright terrified of alicorns. They’ll run or hide from them if they’re fully grown, but if they see an alicorn foal they usually stomp it to death.”
“Why? That seems so weird…I mean fluffies are all about love and shit…”
“No one’s a hundred percent sure on that. Some people think that fluffies subconsciously know how rare and desirable they are. That it triggers some response, some desire in the fluffy’s brain that correlates to being adopted and getting a home. Almost like they’re scared of the competition on a primal level. Others think it’s more akin to the Uncanny Valley, that they can’t process a fluffy with wings and a horn, so they see them as a literal monster. Regardless of why, nearly every fluffy is terrified when they see an alicorn.”
“Sounds like a lotta work just to keep one around. Why go through it all?”
Finishing up with the sink, Seth pulled some paper towels to dry his hands before balling them up and tossing them in the trash. Leading Jerome back over to Bullet’s carrier, the mare still screaming and shouting between sobs, demanding her children. “I’ve only ever had an alicorn once kid. Thought it was a feral mare at first when I caught her. She was undersized for a unicorn so I just assumed until I saw the scars on her back…” Seth leaned down so he could peer in through the grate to see Bullet, her cheeks puffing the moment he came into view. “…Sometimes, and I mean very rarely, a fluffy loves one of it’s foals enough to not outright kill them. They might treat them the same way as an off-colored foal, or even put them on waste detail…”
“Waste detail?”
“Poopie babies. They make them eat feces as a way to keep the nest clean. It’s how people came up with the concept of litter-pals…As I was saying, they might do any or all of that, but whoever saved this one was pretty clever for a fluffy. It had chewed off her wings, and at a very young age based on how well the scars had healed.”
“Damn…that’s pretty brutal, Seth. So, what did you do with her?”
Merely hearing the question brought a smile to Seth’s face. Chuckling slightly, he took an old blanket from the supply bag and draped it over the carrier, hearing Bullet’s protests quickly shift to panic as her crate went dark. “Oh, lots of things. She was easily one of my favorites over the years. And what made it truly great was how smart she was. She had this…self-awareness that takes most fluffies an eternity of torment to develop. I tend to enjoy fluffies far more when they have…personality.”
“Don’t they all though? I mean I hear what you’re sayin’ but I don’t really follow…”
“…Let me put it another way. Remember how you liked torturing foals but preferred one that could talk? Well, it’s kind of like that. Someone who had only ever played with chirpies wouldn’t know what they were missing until they had their first fluffy. Same with an alicorn…It’s just…better, you know?”
“Okay, I guess that makes a little more sense. So, what now?”
“Well, I have to get these guys in a better setup than this. Thankfully I have just the thing at home. And it won’t be too long before you have to clock in. After that…” Seth smiled and slapped the side of the carrier, prompting an abrupt scream from Bullet, the mare now sobbing and far more concerned with her safety than that of her progeny.
“*SCREEEEEEE!!! P’wease wet Buww’it owt…*huuu…huuu…huuu…Babbehs am tu widdew…nee’ mummah…*huuu…huuu…huuu…”
“…You get to deal with her.”
Seth didn’t stay much longer, wanting to make sure the foals were warm for the trip home. Excited to finally have Bullet all to himself, Jerome was ecstatic, the teen smiling to himself for his entire shift. Besides having to help unload the delivery truck it was mostly more of the same, with the teen simply keeping the shelves stocked and the store tidy throughout the day. Still, despite his good mood, Jerome could barely keep his eyes off the clock, the minutes passing by slowly as he awaited Seven P.M. When it was finally time to clock out, the teen remembered what Seth had been discussing the day before, opting to buy a can of soda and a sandwich from a nearby deli as he pondered what he wanted to do to his fluffy.
After his brief but much needed meal, Jerome felt reinvigorated, walking back to the store and entering in through the back. Even through the blanket that covered her carrier, he could still hear Bullet sobbing loudly, the mare lamenting her lost foals.
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…Babbehs…”
Ignoring her for the moment, Jerome grabbed a pair of rubber gloves, stretching them over his hands as he looked down at the duffel that Seth had brought him. Now that the mare was of no further use to Seth, the teen was no longer restricted to soft abuse. Moving the varied tools and implements about, he pulled out a plain notebook that was slightly obscured below. At his mentor’s behest, Jerome had been keeping a list of ideas and torments, an exercise to both quell the constant urge to torture the pitiable biotoys as well as letting him plan for future sessions. Shuffling through the pages, he grinned slightly at the vast notes and macabre sketches within. Having written in it nearly every day since the fourth, Jerome had nearly filled it halfway. “What kind of fun should we have tonight?” After perusing the notebook for a few minutes, the teen chuckled aloud before putting it back up, satisfied in his choice.
First, he gathered what he would need. Taking a roll of fishing line as well as a tacklebox filled with hooks and a wooden dowel, Jerome placed them beside the carrier, letting the items clatter against the table with a loud bang, eliciting a sharp yelp from Bullet, the mare now all but silent. It amused him how far she’d fallen in just a few days, from screaming and threatening him, to being cowed into quiet whimpering. Pulling the blanket free of the carrier, Jerome threw the cage door open and shoved his arm within, grasping Bullet violently by her tail and dragging her out as she shrieked and struggled against him.
“*SCREEEEEEE!!! WET GU OF BUWW’IT’S TAIW!!! WAI DADDEH GIB BUWW’IT HUWTIES?!”
“Oh, I haven’t even started, bitch…” Jerome held the mare upside down by her tail, lifting her high into the air so they were face to face. Dangling awkwardly as she wriggled back and forth in a panic, her eyes slowly falling to the table where her bed had once been.
“Babbehs?! WEWE AM BABBEHS?! GIB BUWW’IT BABBEHS BACK, NAO!!!”
Emboldened by her missing foals, Bullet found a small bit of courage, angrily flailing her hooves towards Jerome, an ill-conceived attempt to lash out at the loss of her progeny. Scowling, the teen struck her across the face with his free hand, the mare screeching in agony from the blow.
“*SCREEEEEEEE!!!”
Blood trickled down her face, her shouting cut off by a broken nose. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t give a shit about those foals! You were gonna crush one to death!” Seemingly unable to even hear Jerome, Bullet was rubbing her muzzle as her eyes began to tear up from the pain.
“*huuu…huuu…huuu…Smeww pwace huwties…Nu wike…Daddeh am meanie tu Buww’it…*huuu…huuu…huuu…”
It hadn’t been about anger before, with Jerome just wanting a fluffy to abuse and torment. Like many others, he had simply wanted to vent some frustrations. But something about the way the mare wanted her foals one moment and forgot about them the next really irked him. Taking a deep breath, Jerome smiled and dropped Bullet onto the table with a satisfying thud.
“*oof…Owwies!”
While she recovered from the abrupt tumble, Jerome opened the tacklebox, pulling out one of the hooks and threading it with the fishing line. Giving it a few healthy tugs to make sure it wouldn’t break or snap he threaded two more, testing them in equal measure. Satisfied that they would remain taut, the teen took the first hook in his hand and quickly pressed his other onto the prone fluffy’s back, pinning her to the table.
“Wet Buww’it ups! Wai meanie daddeh gib…*SCREEEEEEE!!!”
Bullet screeched as Jerome worked the hook through the flesh of her back, her whole body seizing as he slowly worked the jagged steel into her. “Bitchin’ about being hurt? Just a second ago you were pissed about losin’ your babies…” Wheezing as she struggled to catch her breath, Bullet tried to cry out, her mouth curled into a silent scream as she rasped in pain. With the first hook through, Jerome could already tell that it was a lot for the once pampered fluffy to bear, and possibly the worst suffering she’d known up until now. Elevating her head slightly, the teen began to lightly slap her face again and again, not wanting her to blackout so early. “Not yet Bullet…we got lots more to go…” After several sharp blows to the face the mare’s eyes began to focus as she flailed her hooves against Jerome’s hand.
“St…Stahp! P’wease Stahp!!! No mowe huwties fow Buww’it!!!”
“Did I hurt you?! Oh, Bullet I am sooo sorry…” Unable to hear the sarcasm in his voice, the mare smiled, sniffling slightly as she wiped away her tears. Despite all the pain she was in, to hear even a hint of affection in her owner’s voice was enough to pull her out of the anguish she felt. Before she could say anything, Jerome grabbed her front hoof, holding it tightly as he worked another hook into her.
“*SCREEEEEEE!!!”
Laughing as Bullet flailed her wounded hoof, the teen couldn’t tell which made him happier, the pain she was in, or the betrayal right before. Wanting to get to the fun part of his plan, Jerome grasped her other front hoof, stabbing it in the same way as the last one, with the mare now howling as she struggled, each movement sending red-hot agony shooting through her tiny frame. While she mewled and whimpered from the fresh wounds in her legs and back, Jerome took the three ends of the fishing line and tied them around the wooden dowel. Once they were affixed to the wooden rod, the teen smiled, leaning down so the exhausted fluffy could better see him. “You know Bullet, I think you’re a really shitty fluffy…I mean, I don’t like most of you, but you…you really piss me off…Leavin’ your old home so you could get knocked up, only to try and kill one of your babies…well I’ve been lookin’ into fluffies in my spare time. And speaking of babies, you know one of my favorite things I learned about foals?” Weak from pain and clearly not really understanding what the boy was asking, Bullet tilted her head upward, tears falling down her face as she quietly pled for some semblance of mercy. “…Some of them dance!”
“*SCREEEEEEE!!!”
At the last word, Jerome jerked on the dowel rod, forcing the mare upright by the hooks with an ear splitting scream. Now standing awkwardly on her back hooves, the teen laughed with delight as he moved the rod back and forth in his hand, the lines pulling on Bullet’s hooves painfully and forcing them to move along with his movements. “Does Bullet like to dance?! Is Bullet a dancie baby?!”
“*SCREEEEEEE!!! WEGGIE HUWTIES!!! STAHP WEGGIE HUWTIES!!! P’WEASE!!!”
“Aww, don’t you want to dance for daddy?” Jerome had put a great deal of thought into the torment and was pleased that it was working out so well. While he had come up with a slew of ideas on his own, he couldn’t resist looking up the ideas of others online. Unfortunately, all that did was teach him that fluffy abuse was difficult to find on the internet, at least for free. Because of their biotoy status, there was nothing strictly illegal about the torturing of fluffies per say, but it was seen as distasteful and many wanted it restricted to paid content sites that were adult only. Not wanting anything that his mother could trace back to him, Jerome got creative. There were an abundance of sites dedicated to the more wholesome aspects of fluffies, and many had tips for new owners, as well as lists of basic facts and do’s and don’ts. With a little effort, he had reverse engineered several torture ideas from those, including the dancing torture he had chosen for Bullet. He’d gotten the idea from dancing babies, foals that would shake their torso and playfully rock their front nubs for either attention or fun. One of the notes about them was that when they grew older, they would eventually abandon the behavior, as once they were too large, the strain on their hind legs would become too much, risking pain and permanent harm to the fluffy.
And as Jerome watched the mare howl and scream from his forced dancing, it was clear that it was true, her hind legs spasming from the weight of her portly body. “Dancie, dancie, Bullet! Be a good dancie baby for daddy!”
“*SCREEEEEEE!!! DANCIES HUWT!!! NU MOWE DANCIES!!! P’WEASE NU MAEK BUWW’IT DANCIES NU MOWE!!!”
“But Bullet is such a good dancie baby! I think she should dance all night for daddy!” Once the teen had gotten all the joy he could from watching her twitch and scream at the end of the makeshift puppet-strings, Jerome picked her up with his spare hand, putting her on the floor just under the table. For one brief moment, the mare laid on the floor, breathing heavily as she tried to recover from her ordeal, only to have her body forced upright again, the hooks pulling skin and muscle as they tore deeper into her delicate body. Jerome pulled the lines taut, before placing the dowel on the edge of the table and weighing it down with the duffel bag, giving the wire a strong pull to make sure it wouldn’t come loose. “Good…Now daddy has to go away for the night Bullet, but now you can keep being a dancie baby while I’m gone…good night” As Jerome made his way out the back he could still hear the mare’s shrieks, begging for him to come back and save her. Smiling to himself, the teen found his thoughts returning to the runt from earlier. Serves you right…
