It was amazing how quickly fluffies got hooked on things. It made sense, fluffies were programmed to seek things that felt good, it made them very easy to train.
“Duh… dummeh…” The mare lay next to the dumpster, flat on the ground. Her foals were curled against her back in a quivering pile. Clearly the effects of the medicated milk had passed through her and onto them like the label warned you.
“Hi there, Smarty Mummah! You’re not looking so good.” You stepped behind the dumpster area, hiding you from any nosy neighbors.
“Gib miwkies!” She snapped, weakly slapping her hoof against the pavement. “Yu nu gib in foebah!”
By forever she meant one day. You had given it to her two days in a row, then decided not to show up last night. You could see the desperation in her eyes, how limply she lay on the pavement, she was withdrawing. A feeling you knew all too well. Her hooves shook, and she didn’t have the strength to puff her cheeks out entirely which left her looking angrily constipated.
“Yeah… I don’t want to give you any more.” You set the shopping bag of cans down behind you.
“Wha??”
“You’re not worth it, these are expensive and hard to get. I’ll need something in return if you want any more.”
The mare stared at you for a moment, her eyes blinking one at a time as she pondered your statement. “…Wha dummeh wan?”
“Hmmmm…” You put your finger to your chin, pretending to think. “It would need to be something very valuable.”
The mare looked around for a moment, as if currency would sprout from between her hooves. Her brow furrowed, looking behind her towards the trembling foals behind her. You held your breath as she sighed, wondering if she understood. Would it really take so little to get her to give up a foal? Would she offer one so readily?
To your disappointment she grabbed a mouthful of her filthy blue fluff and ripped at it with her teeth. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the fluff came free, and she turned slowly and spat it out in front of her.
“Dewe… gib pwetty fwuff fo’ magic miwkies.”
“That… it’s not enough.” The mare blinked at you in confusion as you shook your head. “I need more than fluff. This milk is the bestest thing ever, right?” The mare nodded as you guided her to the solution. “So I’d need something else that is the bestest thing ever.”
There was another long moment of contemplation from the mare, then she looked back over her shoulder to her foals. “…Babbehs am bestest ting…”
“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” Stupid creature. Put it together, damnit.
“Buh… Smawty Mummah nee’ wotsa babbehs…”
“Then you don’t want the milk, I guess. I’ll go find a fluffy who deserves it more.” You stood, brushing off your pants.
“BUH NEE’ MIWKIES!!” The mare yells.
“Clearly not that bad. I’m sure there are other mummahs out there that need it more.”
“Maybeh… maybe mummah… gib… uhhh….” You watched her look over her foals, your lips curling into a smile. Eventually she nudged the pile over, foals peeping as they landed on the cold pavement and grabbed a dark grey foal. “Mummah nu wan wowstest babbeh. Gib miwkies.”
You took the foal from her grasp, dropping it into the bag with the milk cans.
“Glad to make a deal.” You popped open a can and poured a small amount into a discarded cup. The mare watched anxiously as you did. “Here you go.”
She shoved her face into the cup, kicking over her foals again in her desperation. After only a few licks she was down to the bare plastic of the cup. She pushed the cup off her face and puffed her cheeks at you. “Nu enuff miwkies, dummeh!”
“Well, that’s what an ugly baby is worth. A prettier baby would be worth more.” The grey foal peeped from your bag, distressed to be surrounded by cold, hard cans rather than its mother and siblings.
The mare looked to you, then to the cup, then to her foals. With another rough kick she spread them out, choosing a pastel pink foal from the pile. “Hewe, bettah babbeh fo’ more miwkies.”
“You’re a very smart fluffy.” You took the foal and dumped more milk into her cup. It was tossed into the bag with its sibling. You would find a use for them later, you were sure.
The mare drank greedily, licking out the inside of the cup until it was totally clean. You watched, your disgust for her growing as her remaining foals cried behind her. A horrid creature, only caring about herself. With a satisfied sigh, the mare pushed the cup off her head and sat back.
“You got enough milkies?” You jostled the bag, the cans clinking together and making the two foals peep in distress.
“Wan’ aww da miwkies, dummeh!” She snapped. “Hab mowe dummeh babbehs.” She roughly tossed a red foal onto the ground in front of her.
“Hmmm… I think I have enough babies…”
“Nu! Dummeh taek babbeh!” She stomped her hoof down without looking and it landed squarely on the foal’s tiny body with a crunch. The mare froze, looking slowly down at the gore around her hoof where the red fluff of her foal was indistinguishable from its crushed innards. “…Babbeh…?”
You didn’t react, just poured the rest of the can of milk into the cup. Sitting down on the cold pavement you set the cup in front of her and she shoved her head into it, crushed foal forgotten with the promise of more “magic milkies”. You had planned on ordering her to harm the foal, but this accident could be a neat way to see what she was capable of. Would she balk at the idea of intentionally harming her foals? Would she decide that she’d had enough from you, and go withdraw somewhere more private?
With a small shiver the mare sat back from the cup, looking down at the remains of her red foal. Her hoof had slammed cleanly through its chest, killing it fairly quickly. A mercy compared to the sort of life it would have lived on the streets. She looked to the now empty cup, then the foal. You could see the tiny gears in her head begin to turn as she looked at you inquisitively.
“Dummeh… wike Smawty Mummah huwt babbehs?” You gave her a noncommittal expression, watching dispassionately. She looked over her three remaining foals, selecting a rather handsome dark purple pegasus and set it in front of her. “If Smawty Mummah gib huwties, dummeh gib miwkies?”
You didn’t reply, waiting for her to act. She stared at you in silence for a long moment, then slowly raised her hoof over the peeping foal. You tried to keep your expression blank as your heart began to pound in your chest, she was really dragging it out.
The mare looked away, then brought her hoof down on the rear hoof of the purple foal. It screeched in pain, a high pitched trill, as you popped open the next can of medicated milk. The mare watched hungrily as you poured half the can into the cup and dove for it the second you set it down. Within a few seconds the cup was empty once again and she knocked it aside before rushing back to the purple foal. With a wicked look in her eye she reared up and slammed both hooves down onto its tiny body. It splattered fluff and gore across her, mixing into the remains of the red foal before it.
You silently poured the rest of the can into the cup, and the mare drank once again. One can was supposed to be the daily limit for an adult fluffy, this mare was finishing her second. You could see how narrow her pupils had gotten, how hard her hooves shook as she drank. You were reaching the endgame here, you could feel it. Two foals remained, both blue, one a muted sort of sea blue, the other eye-searing cyan. Figured she’d see foals her own color as the best ones. You found one of them a much more attractive color than the other, but you knew that these stupid creatures insisted on favoring the most garishly colored offspring so there was no way you two agreed on which one was better.
The mare struggled to get the cup off her face, hooves shaking too hard to have any sort of dexterity. You gave it a small tug to help her and she fell onto her side before struggling to get up on trembling legs. Her sides heaved with every breath, drool leaked out of her slack jawed mouth. She wasn’t doing so well. If you were in the hospital you’d hook her up to some sedatives and let her ride the rest of this out in a darkened room.
Too bad for her that you weren’t on shift.
She very slowly turned to her foals, still shivering on the cold pavement. She was so clearly out of her mind at this point, looking over the remaining pair of foals. She took small careful steps towards them, hesitating briefly as she reached the cyan foal. You hoped for a moment that she might make the right decision on what foal to mutilate but no, she stepped carefully over it and hovered over its duller colored sibling. A pity.
The sea-blue foal lifted its head to her, peeping in what sounded like an affectionate way. Its mother responded by pressing her hoof down on its head steadily. Its chirps became more and more distressed as the pressure grew, its little hooves tapping on the pavement frantically. The mare shifted her weight and with a crack the foal’s head caved in. she wasted no time running back to the plastic cup, which you managed to snatch before she could shove her junkie head back into it. You popped open another can of milk while she paced in front of you and poured half of it into the cup and set it out.
As the mare drank, you looked at the carnage in front of you. Three foals mashed flat, two laying in the shopping bag with the cans, one trembling on the pavement still. Clearly the bestest baby. The mare was struggling to drink the milk at this point, her muscles too overwhelmed with nonsense signals to respond the way she needed them to. You leaned over and scooped up the tiny cyan foal. It snuggled into your hand as you parted its fluff, seeing the start of a bright purple mane. A decent color scheme, but still far too bright for most. You stroked its back with your thumb while you considered your next move. This was delightful, more enjoyable than the fight club for sure. You were beginning to see how people could do this to innocent fluffies. The violence of this terrible mother was a wonderful main course, but you needed something good to finish off on. Something special for desert.
You pushed the two foals in the shopping bag aside to grab the formula bottle you threw in on a whim. While the mare remained distracted trying not to drown in the plastic cup you poured the rest of the can into the formula bottle and began to feed the little foal. You could feel its ribs under its thin fluff and it drank steadily, its tiny front hooves kneading against your finger. You wondered how long it had gone without food. It didn’t seem too old, its eyes were still firmly closed and it was only a little larger than a newborn. Maybe a week, max?
The foal started to pull away from the nipple, but you firmly held its head in place, squeezing the bottle slightly. The mare had finished her milk and was making frustrated growls as she struggled to get the cup off her head. You didn’t have much more time. You forced the milk into the mouth of the foal, not stopping when it began to cough and try to spit the milk out. You needed it to drink the whole bottle. It finally figured out it needed to swallow or drown and drank the remaining milk just as the mare managed to get the cup off her head. She galloped to where her last foal was, and spun around looking for it frantically.
“I have it, Smarty Mummah.” You held the foal out to her. “I gave it the last of the magic milkies, I thought the best baby should also have some of the best milkies.”
She held out her shaking, gore covered hooves for the foal. You gave it to her, sitting back to watch the show.
“…Beh…beh…. taek… miwk… nu…” Her hooves started to shake harder, pressing down on either side of the foal. “Mummah… wub… nee… miwk…”
You bit your lip in anticipation, watching her struggle with her better nature.
The dark blue mare pressed a little harder on the foal, and he vomited up a small amount of the milk. She gasped loudly, the wasted milk pushing her over the edge.
“BABBEHTAEKMUMMAHMIWKMUMMAHNEEMIWKIESBABBEHBADBABBEHBADREEEEEEEEEEHHHH!” she screamed, the words blurring together almost incomprehensibly. When she ran out of breath she shoved the foal into her mouth, chewing loudly. You watched in a mixture of horror and amusement as the bones crunched and bodily fluids squirted down her chin. The back half of the foal fell to the ground as the mare swallowed, she dove for them and swallowed them quickly as well.
She sat back, meal finished, panting faster than you had ever seen a fluffy breath before and looked down at her gore covered hooves. After a moment of watching them shake she let out one long ear piercing scream. “SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-” and then fell to her side, twitching and frothing at the mouth. You watched as she seized, a bit of her foal getting vomited up and blocking her airway, and then all at once she fell still.
You let out a long sigh, releasing the breath you had held for far too long. All was right in the world again. You let yourself come down, getting your pulse back under control. You needed that, badly. Getting to your feet, you picked up the shopping bag and heard the peep of a foal from inside.
Looking in, the pink foal had wrapped itself around its grey sibling and was trembling at the bottom of the bag. You picked them both up, feeling the cold stiffness of the grey foal. It must have been on the brink of death anyway. You pried it from the pink foal’s grasp and dropped it back in the bag, looking over your remaining victim. It was a good colored earthie foal, a nice dusty rose, and unfortunately for it a colt. Had it been a filly you would have had at least a fifty dollar payout should you decide to sell it, but really only breeders wanted pink colts.
What could be done with it… You were out of milk, so no overdosing this one. You could watch it starve, but without a meal it would assuredly be dead by morning. No fun there. Maybe some torture? You could see what sticking it with pins was all about, maybe see how many you could get in before you hit something essential?
The foal wrapped its hooves around your thumb and released a small contented coo that snapped you from your thoughts. What the fuck were you thinking?? You looked down at the carnage below you and gagged.
The mare lay stiff on the ground, her limbs outstretched and a puddle of spittle and blood tinged milk vomited around her head. In the darkness, and with the gore muddying her fluff you couldn’t see anything other than Yam laying dead on the pavement.
You felt the bile rise in your throat again and forced it back down, the foal in your palm peeping in distress as you tightened your grip around it. This was justice. This was fair. This was what she deserved. This mare was horrible, some of the worst of the worst. She deserved a drawn out death. And you didn’t even have to make her do any of it! She made all these decisions, not you.
You held up the pink foal for a moment, watching it squirm. With a sharp flick of your thumb its head flipped back, snapping its spine and killing it quickly. You tossed it into the bag with its grey sibling, then picked up the mare by the scruff and added her in as well. The gore on the ground would take you forever to pick up, so you left it for the scavengers as you tossed the bag into the dumpster and made your way back across the parking lot.
You didn’t really like what happened back there, or the way it made you feel but…
You did feel better.
Back inside, you heard your phone buzz with the reminder of a missed text.
“I’m done. I think I have some answers. Call me when you’re ready.” Romero had sent you.
With a deep breath you hit the call button.
He picked up after just a few rings. “Hey Mary. You doing okay?”
“Yeah. Wha’d you find?” He had picked up Yam’s body the day before, to give her a once over before burying her. Suited you fine, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
“Lots. I think there was something… weird going on in the lab.”
“We know that. What did you find?”
“So all her veins were just… falling apart. Totally in shambles, as if they were made of tissue paper.”
“Could that be from being in the freezer?”
“Some of it, maybe, but her heart was just straight up falling apart. Filled with clots as well, I think from the breaking veins.”
“So… you think a brain bleed?” You sat down at your kitchen table, looking at the spot on the floor that you lost her.
“I do, I couldn’t really… check, you know?”
“No, too far, I get it.”
“I don’t think there was anything we could do. There must have been something given to her before they threw her away that did this. To keep whatever was top secret in her a secret.”
“Nothing we could do…” Of course. Why did you think you could change anything.
“…You okay Mary?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lied. “Anything else?”
“It wasn’t your fault, did you hear me? We gave her a really nice few days after an awful life.”
“Yeah. Sure. Is that everything you found?”
“… Do you need me to come over?”
“No, Romero, I’m fine. Really.”
“You sure? I know you’re taking this hard, there’s no shame in it-”
“I just need to sleep.” you cut him off. “It’s… too quiet here now.”
“…Alright. Please call me if that changes, okay?”
“I will.” You lied again. “G’night Romero.”
“Night Mary.”
You hung up and let your phone drop onto the table with a clatter.
Nothing you could do. No way to save her. No way to save any of them. You let your head fall back and stared at your water stained ceiling.
Nothing you can do. Nothing you can change.