“Welp, pretty diverse group you got out here.” Jimmy stood in the window, eyeing the small herd of fluffies in the backyard. Mike stood with him, watching the biotoys frolic about, munching on the grass, building nests, and other things. It was a…weird sight; to just let them do it and not focus his efforts on getting rid of them. But, considering what Jimmy promised him, he could abstain for now.
Speaking of Jimmy, his brother hadn’t changed a bit. Mike was still taller than him by a head, though Jimmy’s hair was kept in a well-trimmed pompadour. His white skin had a few blemishes here and there, with the notable one being a scar on his arm from a biking accident a few years ago. He was also bulkier; where Mike was lithe and slightly gangly, Jimmy was built like a football player. Always made Mike wonder why his brother didn’t play. Every time he was met with the same answer: boring sport. Currently, his brother wore a pair of jeans, some workboots, and a dirty muscle shirt. One could only guess what he was doing prior to making the long drive over.
“It’s diverse, yeah,” Mike answered his brother. “but you’re sure this whole operation’s gonna work, right?”
“More or less,” Jimmy shrugged. “They’re good colors. Plus, we don’t need them to cooperate. Just the foals. And that requires the pregnant mare to pop ‘em out and give us time to train ‘em. Speaking of, where is she?”
“Saferoom.” Mike answered. He started for the stairs and slowly ascended them, hearing his brother in tow. “I moved her there after I got her all set up, though now she’s too…swollen to actually move herself.” The two brothers reached the doorway to the saferoom. The mare was resting in a nest of blankets Mike gave her, with her kibble bowl and litter box nearby as well. She looked up at him and eagerly wiggled in place. “Hewwo daddeh! did ‘ou bwin’ fwend?!”
“…she always greets me like that,” Mike whispered to his brother. “Makes me a bit uncomfortable.”
“Nah, don’t let it. Fluffies come pre-programmed to see potential or current owners as ‘daddehs or mummahs’. Sometimes it’s mister, though I can’t say why.” Jimmy stepped over the barrier he set up and approached the mare, seemingly ignoring her questioning as he ran his calloused fingers through her fluffy. “Coo…coo…Fwuffy wike habin’ fwuffy’s haiw bwushed, new daddeh!” She exclaimed. Jimmy continued to ignore her before nodding and standing up.
“Nyeah…she’s got at least a few days before she pops. Means I’ll stick around ‘til then. I doubt mom and dad’re gonna mind me crashin’ in their bedroom.” Jimmy snapped his fingers. “Speaking of, you’ve checked their Facebook, right?”
Mike deadpanned. ‘We both know I don’t use that.”
“Riiiiiight…well, you should. They’re gonna be gone another two months. Said they’re gonna travel overseas next and hit Europe.”
“Shit, really?” Mike asked, confused.
“Yep. Dad won tickets in a sweepstakes down there, so he said fuck it, why not? But…there’s the neutral news.” Jimmy smacked his lips. “Ready for the good and bad?”
Mike groaned. “Bad first. It’s always very bad with you.”
“Rude…but yeah Alex doesn’t want the adult fluffies. Good news, foals of any age are wanted. I worked it out with him on the drive over; we just need them to stick around Granola while they’re maturing. Let him teach ‘em the ropes and how shit goes. By the time they’re at that age they’ll be as well-behaved as he is and can in turn pass that shit to their own foals.”
“Adults can’t be taught?”
“It’s a hassle, especially with ferals. Sparing you the details, it’s easier and cheaper just to train feral foals over their parents. So, we’re gonna use these next few months to pop ‘em outta the ones you got out back, let ‘em stick around Granola, then send ‘em off to Alex’s farm. He’ll pay me for each haul I bring in, and then I’ll split the profits with you. Sounds easy, right?”
Mike weighed that. “Well, what all would we need to do? With the ones outside?”
“Easy. Lemme get my phone ready.” Jimmy was already heading downstairs. Mike followed suit and followed his brother out to the patio. The fluffies stopped what they were doing and turned to regard them, giving a chorus of greetings Jimmy paid no heed to. He just…entered stuff into his phone. Taking notes?
“Aaaaaand…done. Marked down each fluffy’s gender and color. Now, here comes the easy part. How many’ve you got special friends?” Only two stallions raised their hooves. “What’re the rest of you?”
“Dat’s fwuffy’s mummah!” A colt eagerly pointed at a bleached yellow mare, currently resting in some grass. “An’ dis am fwuffy’s bwuddah!” He pointed to another colt, this one red in coloration with a little horn on his head.
“Ah…well that makes sense.” Jimmy jotted that down. “Not gonna count foals yet. No telling if they’ll make it to the part we need.”
“Their chances’re that bad?” Mike asked in a hushed voice.
“Mhm. Fluffies themselves are helpless; foals are that and then some. Dying from starvation if their mom can’t get milk, dying from a hawk deciding it’s worth it. Lotta reasons. For now, lemme set the rules. Root out the troublemakers.” Jimmy cleared his throat. “Attention fluffies!”
All of them perked up and paid attention to him. “Nyu daddeh wans somethin’?” One of the stallions babbled.
“Yep. Now, my brother and I are gonna take care of you all, but we gotta set some ground rules first. Make sure everyone’s on the same page. Firstly,” He raised a finger in the air. “No special huggies without our permission, ‘kay?”
“Buh…wat if fwuffy’s speshuw wumps gib fwuffy owwies?” A cerulean colored stallion complained.
“Then you’ll tell us, and we’ll see if we can either allow it, or get you a toy.” Jimmy responded curtly. Secondly,” A second finger went up. “You will eat the grass out here only. No sketti. That’s a treat for pregnant mares.”
“Nu faiw! mummah nee sketti tu mak bestest miwkies!” A mare cried. She flailed her hooves and righted herself, nearly knocking away her foals who were feeding prior to her flare of anger. “Gib mummah sketti! nao!” Jimmy reached down and flicked her nose, earning a cry of pain that made her stagger back, rubbing at the spot with her hooves. “Huwties! Wh’ daddeh gib fwuffy owwies”
“Because that’s rule number three?” Jimmy stated coldly. “You will not demand things from us. You ask. Demand and you get the sorry stick. Act real bad and you get the sorry box.” That sent a wave of panicked murmurs through the crowd of fluffies. Seemed those were taboo to their little minds. “And, most importantly, no ‘bestest babbehs’. All your foals are equal. If we catch one of your foals calling itself the bestest babbeh, or you proclaiming them as such, you will be punished. Also, no neglecting your foals. We catch you neglecting even one foal, we take your whole litter. Now go play.” Jimmy turned away from the herd. They scattered to resume the usual, though Mike winced when he watched a mare walk to the fence-like and spray a jet of projectile shit at it. Either they chose that area as the designated latrine or she was voicing her disdain to the fence that kept them out.
Mike didn’t linger on it. Not yet. He turned his attention to his brother who just entered stuff into his phone. “So, no bestest babies?”
“Mhm.” Jimmy locked his phone and slid it into his pocket. “That’s how you get smarty fluffies, and like I told you, no one’s buying a smarty. Mares who favorite a foal end up filling its head with all sorts of ideas, rendering it an entitled cunt before it can eat solid food.”
“Can it be fixed, though?” Mike asked.
“I mean, yes. It’s very lengthy, and usually takes putting the thing through a certain amount of trauma to make them see being a smarty’s a bad idea. But…” Jimmy shrugged. “We ain’t got the time for that. If you see one calling itself a smarty, kill it.”
Mike winced at that. “Jimmy, you know—”
“Yeah yeah…you’re squeamish. Augh…look I got another idea. And it looks like we got time to test.” Jimmy motioned at a purple colored mare; the same who demanded ‘sketti’ when Jimmy made the rule. She shoved back her other foals and gently set one atop one of her crotch tits. “Nu othah babbehs, bestes’ babbeh ge miwkies fiwst! can hab wat’s weft!”
Welp, that was it. Jimmy was already approaching the mare and stooped down. “Well, we already got a rulebreaker. Means you’re a bad fluffy.”
She visibly reeled from such a word, like she’d been struck. The rest of the fluffies collectively gasped in fright, backing away from the purple mare who shot to her feet, nearly knocking the foal clamped to her tit off. “Nu! dat’s nu twue!” She exclaimed, stamping a hoof to the ground. “Am gud mummah! bestest babbeh just needs miwkies befowe dah othews! fwuffy’s gon’ be smawty!”
Jimmy tsked. “See, we can’t have that. This happy family’s got no place for smartys, and if your foal’s gonna be one…” Jimmy sighed. Mike knew that one; it was the one he did before giving bad news. Bad news he enjoyed. “Then that means you and your foals can’t stay here.”
The mare went from defiant to teary eyed in a flash. “Buh…Fwuffy nu can suwbibe out dewe! it dawk! an’ dewe’s bawky monstews ou dewe!” She pled, borderline sobbing the whole time. “Pwease, daddeh! nu send fwuffy 'way!”
“Well…there’s another way.” Jimmy began. The foal in question finally drank its fill and turned towards Mike’s brother, glaring up at him.
It snorted and puffed its cheeks up. “Dummeh hooman! wet mummah stway hewe, ow fwuffy’ww gib sowwy hoofies!”
Jimmy tsked again. “See, that’s gotta go. So, here’s my offer, fluffy.” Jimmy sighed. “Give your bestest baby forever sleepies.” The crowd gasped again from the term. The foal’s deviant display ebbed away like its mother’s, sending it to hide between her legs.
“Buh…dat’s fwuffy’s bestest babbeh…huu…Fwuffy nu can gib foweba sweepies tu him.” She made no effort to hide her tears and sobbing.
Jimmy shrugged. “Well, you’re a good mom, right? Prove it. Otherwise, you and all your babies go back out the yard. And my brother over there told me another herd got snapped up by the barky monsters a while back. Do you wanna meet them? if not, stomp that one between your legs to death. Right now.” The mare continued to sob. As insidious as it was, Mike was almost impressed with his brother’s psychological manipulation of the mare. He was pitting her against two of her greatest fears: facing certain death or killing her favorite kid. It did twist his stomach a bit seeing her sob like that, but he remained stone-faced. This was what needed to be done. He refused to deal with another smarty if he could help it.
“You got ten seconds to decide.” Jimmy said, raising his hands and slowly counting down. That just sent the mare into further, grief-wracked sobs as she tried to babble out an excuse and a response. An answer to Jimmy’s cruel threat. Alas, none came…and he finished counting.
“SCREEEEEE! BAD UPPIES!!!” Jimmy snatched her up by the scruff of her neck and walked to the fence. The rest of the fluffies remained where they were but watched on all the same. Watched the cruel punishment. Either they were transfixed with fear or were truly respecting Jimmy’s ground rules. In any case, Mike followed his brother, and soon Jimmy leaned his arm beyond the fence, leaving the mare to struggle fruitlessly against his grasp.
“Pwease daddeh! nu fwow mummah out dah yawd!!!” She screamed at him, flailing her limbs uselessly.
“Then you should’ve listened.” And with that, he dropped her to the grass. Mike winced when he heard a distinct crack that told him she landed on a leg wrong, earning even more sobs from the mare as she desperately tried to rise and beat on the fence. Jimmy walked off and returned with her foals, dropping each outside the yard into the tall grass until he reached the smarty-to-be. Said foal looked far from confident, and now was absolutely petrified in fear over their fate. He didn’t beg to be let in, though; Mike credited that to the foal being smart enough to understand Jimmy was bad.
He was smart.
Jimmy dropped him as well, reuniting the family again, but leaving them trapped outside the yard. Outside of sanctuary. The mare finally managed to get up and beat on the fence…and then he heard it.
A growl.
Mike glanced up and saw a coyote there. The sight of it left the mare terrified, yet all she did was crouch herself over the foal she favored, covering it with her body as the coyote stalked close. It bothered Mike she chose to try and save her ‘favorite’ over the rest, but considering one of her legs was broken, he knew that’d amount to very little. The rest of her foals begged for help, including a copper colored one. Said foal was the unlucky one, as the coyote bit down on it first, resulting in a sickening crunch that ended its life. The rest were given similar fates as they were ruthlessly eaten by the beast, yet Mike had a hunch it wanted more.
More came when it tore into the mare. Her pained screech filled the yard, earning frightened looks from the remaining fluffies.
“Daddeh! Daddeh sab fwuf—SCREEEEEEE!!!” The coyote bit down on her throat. A spray of blood later and the mare’s throat was ripped free, leaving her to gurgle and sputter blood from the remains of her gullet before slumping to the ground, leaving the bestest babbeh as the survivor, especially when the coyote grabbed the corpse and dragged it into the forest. And then it was gone.
“See that?” Jimmy pried the board loose and scooped the little foal up. “That’s what being a smarty gets you. Still think you’re a smarty?”
“N-Nuu…b-babbeh wan—chirp—mummah…nu wan be smawty…” It pathetically sobbed.
“And see, smarty issue’s resolved. I’ll drop him with another mare, let him get raised as a normal foal.” The two brothers made their way back to the herd, ignoring the chirps and sobs of the traumatized foal.
“Yeah…but we lost a mare and a batch of foals.” Mike noted.
Jimmy, once again, shrugged. “And we gained unquestioning submission. They saw we ain’t bluffing, so when I say do it, they’ll do it. It’s why I’m glad that coyote showed up when it did.”
“Yeah, I think I recognized that one…was around when the first herd got killed.”
Jimmy deadpanned. “Never a good sign when you recognize one’ve those things, Mikey…”
[Not too long, but we introduced Mike’s brother, Jimmy. As you can tell, he’s far crueler, which helps to get actual abuse here for those who crave it. I hope you’ll enjoy this one too while I work on some projects elsewhere again. I’m considering writing some industrial abuse but it’s hard to begin. I’ll spend a day thinking about it.]