Martha sat at the small round cafeteria table, slowly munching away at her lunch. She had heard about how Ethan had killed a mare who had birthed many alicorns and was alicorn friendly, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how wasteful it was to kill fluffies with rare and sought-after traits just because they couldn’t fill the same roll anymore. “Should have given her lactation hormones and made her an attendant mare for any alicorns the breeding pillows in the basement pop out…” she grumbled to herself before taking a big bite out of her peanut butter and nuttella sandwich.
“Martha! Martha!” the young woman turned in her seat to see Ethan hurrying over to to her table with a frantic look on his face. “The CEO is coming!” the young man said, his eye twitching. Martha nearly choked upon hearing this.
Now, it’s important to understand that the big boss of the breeding centre, while he did have a soft spot for his pet alicorn Calgary, had an otherwise tyrannical personality. A fact that he demonstrated by loudly berating his secretary for not opening the cafeteria door for him fast enough as hes strode into the room. This was the founder and CEO of the breeding centre, Douglas McCain.
He was a tall thin white man with graying brown hair. He wore a custom fitted suit, brown loafers, and a poop-proof “Mega Hugboxer” apron. In his arms he carried Calgary, a red alicorn with white speckles in his fluff, a short sparkly black mane, and bright yellow eyes.
Once Mr. McCain had finished yelling at his secretary, he turned to scan the room with his eyes, as if looking for something. “Alright! Which one of you slackers is Ethan?!” he barked, stroking Calgary in the same manner a super-villain might stroke a lap cat.
Ethan grumbled to himself as he headed down the stairs to the basement. As punishment for killing a valuable mare, the CEO had reassigned him to breeding pillow duty. It was single most depressing job at centre, with it’s endlessly sobbing mares, stallions that screamed bloody murder whenever electricity was used to force them to ejaculate, and the constant pleading for “weggies backsies” from both male and female pillowfluffs.
The most infuriating thing had been what Calgary had said after Mr.McCain gave the order: “’Ou wisten tu hoomin smawty daddeh, swackew!” as if a fluffy had any right to to say such a thing to him!
As well that fluffy of his.