Quick head cannon update
I fucked up Ace’s Forever Foal concept a bit when I tried to play with it, so I’m retconning a bit. What was mentioned in this story is a cheap knock off of Ace’s patented Forever Foals.
“Oh ew.” Tricia poked a manicured nail through the bars of the cage and into the side of the bloated brown mare within. The fluffy jumped slightly at her touch, it’s face covered with a black cone-shaped mask that blocked out all light and sound. “Why’s it so fat?”
“We use some hormone shit to get extra eggs to drop for bigger litters.” Next to the wall of cages in the damp warehouse was a thin man who only identified himself as Trevor, no last name. “I’d have to ask my brother, he handles that shit.”
“And you don’t have any issues with the pregnancy?”
Trevor chuckled darkly. “Oh yeah, tons. We only get two to three litters out of each bitch before they keel over. They’re mostly ferals though, so that’s fine with us.”
“Wait, let me guess.” Tricia stepped back from the wall of cage. “You get extra runts this way.”
“Bingo. If they start out little they stay little. Less work on our part and people love them.”
“Makes sense.” She scanned down the line of cages. There were in the ballpark of twenty mares, a fairly large breeding operation for two people to manage on their own. “How does the training work?”
Trevor smiled, gesturing for Tricia to follow him. “This is the best part right here!”
He led her around a small partition to a series of pens set up out of folding tables with chicken wire wrapped around the outside. The nearest one had newborn foals and a milkbagged mare in each corner. The table was lined with shredded paper to absorb any waste the chirpies produced. “They start off here, we keep them in this pen until they’re walking on their own.”
Trevor stepped up to the second table, where kitten sized foals watched the pair anxiously. The table was lined with paper as well, though this was unshredded and laid out flat. There were three milkbagged mares strapped down in the corners and a small litterbox in the remaining corner.
“Training starts the second they can walk on their own.” Trevor said, scanning the trembling crowd of foals hungrily. His hand shot out quickly, grabbing a red pegasus by the scruff. The foals shrieked and ran in every direction, slamming into the chicken wire sides and bouncing harmlessly back into the pen.
“Looks like we got a bad baby here!” He shouted, lifting the struggling foal into the air.
“Nu!! Babbeh am guud! Am guud!”
“Then why are you covered in SHIT?!” he shouted, spittle spraying the foal’s face. Tricia bent down slightly to see a smear of dark brown against the foals side, crusted with the same cheap clay litter in the box.
“Babbeh faww in wittew box! Am assident, babbeh sowwy!!”
Trevor’s eyes narrowed as he pulled the foal in closer. “I don’t believe you.”
“BABBEH AM SOWWY AM SOWWY NU GIB-”
Trevor grabbed the foal’s head in his fist, holding it high over the pen. “I WANT ALL YOU FUCKERS TO LOOK WHAT HAPPENS TO BABIES THAT DON’T SHIT WHERE THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO!!”
He turned and spiked the foal into the concrete floor, reducing it to a splatter of fluff and gore. The foals in the pen shrieked, most covering their eyes or hiding behind their friends.
“That one had litter on it, I don’t think it was lying.” Tricia commented.
“Oh I know.” Trevor wiped his hands off on his shirt. “I don’t give a shit whether they deserve it or not. Gets their attention.”
Tricia nodded, looking somewhat impressed. Multiple foals in the trembling mass were attempting to hide the product of their terrified bowels, one even going as far as to eat it off the paper lining.
“It’s effective, we make a few examples a week to make it clear that they need to follow the rules. Can’t do too many though, or our numbers start to drop. Once they get that through their thick skulls and they get a little bigger we move them up to the next step.”
Trevor marched over to the third pen, twice the size of the others, two folding tables pushed together and wrapped in chicken wire. The foals had a larger litterbox and a row of rubber nipples going to a large metal tank above them. Other than the foals the pen was bare, no toys or beds were available for them.
“This is the final pen, when they’re fully trained we take some pictures and list them online.” Trevor bent down to pull a plastic tub from under the tables. “Line up for your medicine, babies.”
The terrified foals scampered forward, most sitting anxiously against the chicken wire fence. A few lagged behind, one purple and royal blue foal sat in the middle of the pen with his cheeks puffed. Tricia kept her eyes on him as the other foals jostled for the closest spots to Trevor.
“So they need daily medications to keep ‘em little.” He grabbed a grey tablet from the tub and shoved it into the nearest foal’s open mouth. It made a small choking noise then ran to the feeding station to drink. “It’s nasty tasting shit, so they can’t be sold until they take them with no problem.”
Tricia nodded again as he shoved the tablets into each foal’s open mouth. They seemed eager to get their medicine, some pushing past other foals to get theirs sooner.
“Is there something else in those?”
Trevor chuckled. “Nope, just hormone and growth suppressants. They’re pretty eager for them, aren’t they?” He paused with his hand in front of a green and pastel pink foal, holding the tablet over its head. “You. Tell Miss Tricia here why you all like your medicine so much.”
The foal blinked a few times before speaking. “Uhm… babbeh wan’ guud meddy-sins ‘cuz den babbeh nu be big fwuffy.”
“Hm.” Tricia bent down to look at the foal closer. “Fluffies are usually so excited to be big fluffies.”
“And some of them still do.” He dropped the tablet into the foal’s mouth. “You there, in the back. Come get your medicine.”
“Nu!” It retorted, turning it’s head away. “Nu am babbeh anymowe! Am big fwuffy!”
“Oh, are you?” Trevor asked as he set the bucket down. “Good to hear! Come up here and I’ll show you to where the big fluffies go!”
The purple foal stood proudly, shouldering aside the foals still waiting for their medicine. Trevor grabbed it by the scruff and gestured for Tricia to follow him across the warehouse.
Between pallets of fluffy kibble and other supplies was a small plywood enclosure. As Tricia approached she could see some very basic creature comforts; unpainted wooden blocks, a scuffed up rubber ball, a single washcloth tied into knots that sorta resembled a doll, small dog house, and a tray of the same litter in the other pens.
“Here you go, big guy, this is where the grown up fluffies go!” The foal’s eyes were wide as he was lowered in, having never seen a toy in his life he was ecstatic at the sight of the sparse pen.
“Dis am bestest!” The second his hooves touched the ground he scampered over to the ball.
“I’m glad you like it! You’ll have lots of fun with Ringo!” Trevor stepped back, arms crossed.
“Nyu…. Fwend?” a raspy voice spoke, the foal spun around to the dog house.
With a grunt for every step, the shambling shape of an alicorn slowly approaches the foal. His horn was scuffed and cracked, peeking out from his bowl cut brown mane. He drooled heavily with his tongue flopped out between his missing teeth and crusty lips. His fluff was white in places but mostly stained either rusty red or dark brown and all together missing in spots and his wings were entirely bare of feathers.
“Ringo?” Tricia asked, raising an eyebrow.
“He came with that dumbass haircut.” Trevor explained as the foal slowly backed away from Ringo’s advance. “He’s a dogshit stud, not only did he kill a bunch of mares but his shit colors got passed down more than his wings or horn. Got him dirt cheap from a buddy of mine that was just gonna hit ‘em with a shovel.”
“Wingo wike Mistah Twebow.” Ringo’s cloudy eyes didn’t leave the trembling foal as he spoke. “Mistah Twebow gib Wingo pwettiest toysies and wotsa guud feews…” he rasped.
“Yep, Ringo here makes sure all our ladies keep a bun in the oven.” Trevor continued. “So he gets all the big fluffies he could want.”
“Babbeh nu wan’ be big fwuffy nu mowe!” The purple foal ran to the side of the pen, reaching up for Trevor to pick him up.
“Oh, no can do little buddy. You can’t go back once you’re a big fluffy!” he said loudly.
“Babbeh wan’ meddy-sins nummies, pwease!” The foal scooted to the very corner of the pen as Ringo stepped ever closer.
“It’s too late! If you miss even one dose you’re a big fluffy forever!” Trevor shook his head, an artificial sorrow in his voice. “You’ll just have to play with the big fluffies now.”
“Pway!” As if on command Ringo rushed forward, grabbing the foal and stuffing it under his body.
“SCREEEEEEE NU WAN’ PWAY WIF’ SCAWY FWUFFY NU WAN’ NU WAN’ EEEEEEEEEE!”
“Pway! Pway!!” Ringo chattered, rolling around his pen with his hooves wrapped around the struggling foal. He tumbled back into the middle of the space, teeth buried into the screaming foal’s scruff.
“I don’t know if you’ve got a sensitive stomach or anything, but Ringo likes to play with his food. Just so you’re aware.”
Tricia waved him off. “It’s fine, nothing I haven’t seen before. We had a mare escape a few months ago, from the dairy works. Didn’t find her until the toilets in the office backed up, plumber found her jammed into the sewage line.”
Ringo pinned to foal down with a hoof on either shoulder, back against the floor. Standing over him, he gave his new friend a jagged toothed grin.
“Am pweeeety wittow fwuffy, wif’ pweeeeeety wittow taiw!!” Ringo crooned.
“NU WOOK DEWE!! NU WAN’!!” the foal protested.
“Yuck. I’m amazed at the places these retards find to die.” Trevor replied, watching Ringo inspect the foal.
“Get this, she was still alive.”
Trevor turned to her in shock. “Shut the fuck up.”
Ringo pressed his hind hoof against the base of the foals tail, wrapping the rest of the foal up in a tight hug. “Wingo wike pweety wittow taiws! Hab wots and wots!”
“I didn’t believe it either.” Tricia pulled out her phone, swiping through her photos. “She managed to get jammed head down and form her own little air pocket to keep her from drowning. She was mostly maggots by the time we found her, but she was alive enough to scare the shit out of the poor plumber.”
The foal calmed slightly, comforted by the embrace. He continued to sob but wrapped his hooves around Ringo.
Tricia held out her phone. “This is after he pulled her out, he said her leg came clean off when he pulled.”
“Uhm… Wingo, yu steppie on fwuffy’s taiw…” the purple foal said. “Am wittow huwties, nyu fwend.”
“Pweeeeeety taiw.” Ringo said, hugging the foal tighter.
“Holy shit!” Trevor stared slack jawed at the photo. “And she’s still alive in this?!”
“Yep.” Tricia grinned. “Lived for a full day after too.”
“Christ… the hell you feeding those things?!”
“Wingo hab pweeeeety taiw!” Ringo repeated.
“Nyu fwend hab pwetty taiw, buh am gibbin’ huwties!” The foal protested, trying to wriggle out of the stallion’s grip.
Tricia tucked her phone back into her pocket. “Nothing out of the ordinary, she was a dairy mare so we can’t give her the crazy medications the feed lot ones get. She survived that all natural, boys in the lab took what was left of her for some testing.”
“Pweeeeeety taaaaaaaiw!” Ring cried, yanking the foal up and snapping his tail off at the base.
“SCREEEEEEE! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!!!”
“Love that they stop screaming long enough to tell us how bad the pain is.” Trevor snorted.
“Fluffies will be fluffies.” Tricia replied, watching Ringo admire his new trophy.
“Pweeeety taiw! Nyu pwetty taiw to gu wif’ odday pwetty taiws!” He dropped the bloody blue tail next to the foal and shuffled back to his little house, muttering to himself about pretty tails.
“How’s being a big fluffy?” Trevor asked.
“Nuuu… nu wan’… Huuu…” the foal curled in on itself in a puddle of his own piss and blood. “Pwease take babbeh back tu babbeh pwace…?”
“No can do buddy, you’re a big fluffy now. You’ll just have to play with Ringo forever!”
The foal shat itself in fear just as Ringo emerged from his house with a mouthful of severed fluffy tails. He gasped, dropping the multicolored bundle as he ran to the foal.
“NU GET PWETTY TAIW ICKY!!” he cried, kicking the foal aside as he rushed to pick up the now shit covered tail.
“SCREEEEE!” the purple foal bounced off the plywood wall of the pen and landed on his front hoof which crumpled under him. Ringo ignored his screaming as he carefully cleaned the new addition to his collection.
“Hey Ringo, want to play Wishbone?” Trevor asked, reaching into the pen and grabbing the sobbing foal by his undamaged front leg and dangling him over the pen.
“Wingo wub Wishbone!!” He set the cleaned blue tail among his collection and bit down on one of his hind hooves.
“NU WAN’ NU WAN’ NU WAN’!!”
“Oh, I’ll get in on this!” Tricia grinned as she grabbed the last leg.
“Alright on three!” Trevor started. Ringo nodded, jagged teeth dug into the foal’s soft hoof. “One!”
“BABBEH NU WIKE DIS GAME!!”
“Two!”
“NU WAN’ BE BIG FWUFFY NU MOWE! WAN’ BE BABBEH, WAN’ MUMMAH! WAN’ MIWKIES!!”
“THREE!”
All three players started to tug on their limbs, Ringo’s hooves lifting off the ground as the two humans pulled across from him. The foal continued to screech, flopping his limp hoof around to no avail.
With a loud pop followed by a wet rip, Trevor stumbled back with a severed purple leg in his hand. “Damnit, the front legs aways go first.” He tossed it into the pen, careful to not let it land among Ringo’s tail collection.
“Bad luck.” Tricia smiled down at the mangy alicorn who narrowed his eyes in determination.
“C’mon Ringo, you godda represent us!” Trevor cheered. “Don’t lose to her!”
Ringo tried to reply around the hoof in his mouth but his voice was lost in the foals screaming.
Tricia felt something pop and gave a small tug to see Ringo tumble backwards into the pen, the degloved end of a hoof still in his mouth.
“We have a winner!” Trevor yelled, holding up Tricia’s arm like a wrestling champion. The foal dangled, panting in shock from the pain and blood loss.
“That was fun, but we should probably get back to the tour.” Tricia tossed the foal into Ringo’s pen.
“Hey, if you’re ever looking for a new job I think you’d fit in here just fine.” Trevor clapped a hand on her shoulder and started leading her back to the foal pens. “We don’t get many here that can handle Ringo.”
“Oh that’s a shame, he’s the best of his species.” Tricia replied. “Wish I could get one like him at the dairy.”
“We’re still working on getting another like him for ourselves!”
“WAN’ WEGGIES BACK! HAB WOWSTEST HU-urk!” The foal’s cries were cut off with a wet choking noise. The silence that settled through the warehouse was only punctuated by the gristly chewing noises from Ringo’s pen.
“Alright, do we have any other big fluffies?” Trevor asked the foals.
Not one spoke up, most hiding under their hooves or pressed against the chicken wire staring down at the tub of medication.
“Well, let me know if any of you become big fluffies so I can get you dealt with.” Trevor picked up the tub, starting once again to shove the tablets down the foal’s throats. “Once you grow up you’ll all go play with Ringo!”
He paused, shooting a wicked grin to Tricia. “Unless… you get another human mommy or daddy to take care of you.”
“Wan’ mummah!” A little blue filly chirped, running across the pen towards Tricia. “Pwease mummah! Take fwuffy! Nu wan’ be big!”
“Wan’ mummah!” Another foal shouted, and a small stampede ran to jostle in front of Tricia for attention.
“You won the wishbone, take your pick!” Trevor said, tossing a handful of the tablets into the pen.
“Oh, thank you!” Tricia plucked the first blue filly out from under the mob and looked her over. “I think you’re a good pick!”
“As you can see, our Forever Foals are just as good as the real thing at almost half the price. You want it diaper trained?”
“Sure, I was wondering how you did that.” Tricia handed the foal off to Trevor. “Most of them hate diapers.”
“We do that after they’ve sold.” He tucked the foal under his arm like a parcel as he walked Tricia towards the exit. “I will not be changing a hundred shitrat diapers a day, so we keep them for a week or so with a litterbox full of broken glass. That gets them practically begging for it!” Tricia chuckled, the blue foal too enamored with having a new owner to realize what was coming for her. “I don’t see the appeal honestly, but they sell better in diapers.”
“I think it’s the dependence, honestly.” She patted her foal on the head. “See you in a bit, sweetie!”
“Namsie am Sweetie?!” The blue foal chirped, wagging her tail.
“Sure, that works!”
“We’ll call you when Sweetie here is ready to be your wittow babbeh.” Trevor spoke in a mocking impression of fluffspeak. “You’ll have to send me pictures of how she settles in.”
“Oh I will for sure. I’ll be in touch!” She gave the pair a wave as she left the warehouse, crossing the gravel parking lot to her car. She fiddled with her phone as she walked, dialing a number but only pressing the call button once the driver’s door closed behind her.
The phone rang once, twice, then a curt voice spoke. “Daniel Turner.”
“Hey Danny, it’s Tricia.”
“Ah, how was your tour?”
She glanced out the window at the nondescript warehouse, the only sign of what was within being a red biowaste bin next to the dumpsters.
“Fun, but not what we’re looking for.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a dirty set up. They’re using clearly feral stock and only a single stud. An alicorn, but a low quality one.”
“Hm.” Tricia could hear the small scratch of Daniel taking notes. “That’s something we could fix, but I’m willing to bet there’s more.”
“Yeah, guy is just brutalizing them.” She shook her head. “All stick, no carrot. It’s a shotgun approach, a few of them turn out to be worth something that will pay for the care of the ones that don’t.”
“Damn.” Daniel sighed. “With the lawsuit coming for them I thought we might be able to snap up the works.”
“Yeah, it’s not worth it. Sorry, boss.”
“Eh, we’ll find something else to purchase. Good work, as always.”
“Thank you, have a good evening!”
Tricia smiled as she hung up, pulling up directions to a nearby FluffMart. With a new addition to her home she would need supplies, no matter how short her new wittow babbeh would be there.