Finn's Fluffies: Chapter 3 (Part1): Fluff in the Air (By Jbnuy459)

[Jbnuy459]

Finn’s Fluffies, Part 3: Fluff in the air, like you Just Don’t Care

By: Jbnuy459

“I will ask again: Who did it?” Finn had a single knee protruding down in a resting motion. His eyes scanning over the pet shop’s adult stallion pen. Before him laid three colorful numbered blocks among the fake pastel green grass that served as the main insulation and ground for their leathery hooves. Some other fluffies were behind this scene, playing chase.

This would be a normal sight inside the fluffy viewing pen. Except one of the blocks had a splattering of shit on its six sided form. The two stallions on either side of them did not make eye contact and silently cried to themselves. They did not, however, run away like most others would. Instead they stood tall and brave in front of the looming shadow of a man in front of them. He cleared his throat again, audibly loud for them to hear it.

“Fluffies… Who did it?” He was stern now as they both murmured. They made small glances at one another, staying as silent as they could. Their cheeks puffed up, as if they were holding in their breath and secret before the one on the left nearly bursted.

“D-D-Dewey nicey mistah! Dewey gib bwockies bad poopies!” The cerulean unicorn with a darker mane on the left pointed with his hoof at the opposite fluffy. He was a pastel green pegasus with light blue hair and tail remained silent except a few sobs that were instantly choked back in heaving breaths. Finn turned his attention to the colt on his right. Eyes were beaming down with a stoic intent.

“Dewy… Is this true?” He asked.

The fluffy colt closed his eyes and sobbed even faster and harder. It was an uphill battle of trying his very best to catch his breath between the chokes and gasps of air.

“Huu hUuu hUuu…” A trickle of snot started to leak as he sucked in oxygen through his open maw. “Huu Huu… D-Dewey nuu means tuu!” He fell backwards on his rump with a subtle plop and started to suck the front hoof as he explained. “D-Dewey an Stawwy pwayin wiff bwockies.” D-d-den Stawwy tewwww Dewey funnehh thingsies an den hab biggest heawwt happies! Su maneee heawwt happies dat Dewey fowget tuu bweathies… HUu huu, huuuu!!” He spit his hoof out leaving a dribble of drool to fall off the chin onto the faux grass floor. It slowly became absorbed in the easy to wipe material. “F-f-fowget tuu bweathies and den… den poopies hap-pen! Twied tuu stoppie buu poopie pwaacee nu wisten! Huu huu!” Dewy covered his eyes and stomped the front of his feet. “It nu faiw! Nu faiw! Am nu bad fwuffeeeeeeeEEEeeee” The temper tantrum came off as little taps along the grass. Finn sighs before rubbing the temple of his right side needily. It was almost adorable in a way, but there was business to handle and he couldn’t stay long.

From what he could put together, it sounds like Starry told a decent joke and caused Dewy to crap himself from laughter. It was an honest mistake. And the colt seemed mighty upset by this. He could almost forgive him for the transgression of bad poopies. But now one of them would have to stop what he was doing to wipe off the block that’s been contaminated with the fecal matter. And like the saying goes: “if you do the crime, you do the time”.

“Starry, you can go play.” He stroked the blue unicorn on his soft mane and watched as he bounded away to join the others in a huggie tag. He was elated to not have to be punished or reprimanded. “Dewy. I appreciate you telling me. However, you did bad poopies.”

He was still wailing and held his head in shame. The little stallion could not even meet the gaze of Finn. Nor would he know the comfort of a patting. He was more than well aware there was something wrong about bad poopies.

“D-dewey am sowwy. Nu wan make bad poopies…” He was genuine. Meaning Finn wouldn’t punish him as cruelly as he would the others. This is something that would be in the stallion’s chart going forward. “Good temperament’ and “takes responsibility” would be on the forefront of his adoption sheets for any potential buyers. This is a good thing, many flaky customers appreciate being notified of any potential behaviors before a purchase. This could also mean he would raise the price on this one for this alone.

Finn picked up the block in one hand and the sobbing fluffy under his belly in the other and carried them over to the sink counters. The other fluffies were already awake and playing, some even stopped to look as Dewy was lifted away. They knew he was in trouble and couldn’t help but stare and make silent comments at the “Bad fluffy”.

He placed them both down on the counter next to the sink, flicking on the water and running soap over the wooden toy before drying it off with a paper towel generously. He then reached up and into the counter above to grab a cardboard sorry box. These were gathering dust and were hardly ever used.

“Dewy? Do you know what this is?” He asked the fluffy. His eyes went wide and tears flowed like a river down his cheeks.

“Y-yessss. Huu huu… Dat am sowwy bawkks.” His head hung again in shame. He did not wish to make eye contact with said box. Finn had his chart pulled from the pen and saw this was the first offense. Barely any notes on his account regarding bad behavior. For this he would be merciful in this boxing today. He wouldn’t make him num up the crap he launched. Or spray him down with cold water before being placed. No serious action needed to be taken to avoid any instances in the future.

“That’s right. It will be a long time in the box for bad poopies.” He lifted him up and laid him in carefully before sealing the lid. His hand cranked to ten minutes on a well worn kitchen timer. This was used not as often as only a few minutes of punishment were really needed. This however, did not stop as his cries were instant and unable to be kept in the darker sorry boxing.

“Huuu huuu… Nu wike sowwy bawks. Nu can mowveee…Wan hugiees… and wun!” Dewy howled in the little cardboard box as Finn stood up walking away and leaving the fluffy to the punishment that was just. Emerson would come along and remove the colt when the timer was ringing. As he had done many times before

…

Business today was in full swing. Multiple customers found themselves in the petshop this morning looking for well trained fluffs to adopt. It caught the staff completely off guard as it was still way off the months of the next holiday and their monthly stock of starter-fluffy supplies weren’t completely in. This included simple items such as hay, fluff-co brand kibble, and even the sorry-sticks were not fully up to stock on the shelves. The only ones left were the knock off brands that just didn’t hit as hard as the others. This didn’t stop the flow of foot traffic. It had everyone around the building up and about trying to satisfy and serve each customer coming through.

Even the fluffs were stirring about. Most of them would watch longingly, looking at all the potential mommies and daddies coming through. Some even tried to get their attention with their special dances they do and constant babbling of being a good fluffy. While others focused on playing with their blockies and other friends they made. These ones more often than not saw a higher potential in being sold. And It was one of the various aspects Finn took extreme pride in.

A steady handful of his fluffies would never beg for “nyu mummahs” or “nyu daddehs” as he had trained from birth. They were taught to have fun and play with the other fluffs, ignoring the larger humans as they browsed. He found it better if they were observed rather than them crying out desperately for a home. Made it easier to flip them around. Plus, deep down the fluffies probably knew they were well cared for here.

The fluffies over here had enough food, toys, and a place to sleep. He also kept them around on the shelf long enough to be sold. Others that weren’t sold were kept. Or if they were here for a while would he sell them on the web. There were always potential breeders looking for a wide variety of different fluffy stock. Something the market demanded a lot of the time. And with its ever changing and shifting demands, the fluff-market never saw an end to what owners wanted them to be.

Finn also didn’t believe in euthanizing any fluffy that had good colors and a decent attitude. It wasn’t in his nature to simply get rid of them or do the cruel alternative of dropping them deep in the shelter section. The nightmare scenario of his well loved fluffs getting beaten to death by the stray toughies or raped by the much needed in heat stallions of whatever pen he dropped them in was literally a no-go from the start.

But there would come a time when he had to move them along. Not uncommon or exclusive to the shelter: the shop could get full as well. Although it was very rare that this would happen where he couldn’t sell to someone. And he never overbred to the point where this would even be a possibility. A majority of the time, he would drop the price or find a use for them. Such as other potential breeders or converted into milkbags if needed.

He did recall once that they had a fluffy up on the front desk with Amelia. It was a darker colored earthie, yellow fur with bright red mane. They served as a greeter and waved goodbye to customers as they left. Most often saying in that pre-prgrammed cutesy voice

“Buh-byyyeeesie!! Buhh-byeeeesies!”

He wished he had kept that one as local travelers and influencers loved to take pictures and videos of the fluff as they visited. That was short lived when a local hoagie shop owner really loved their colors and attitude.

They offered a premium price that one couldn’t possibly refuse. Finn was able to get all the staff bonuses for the upcoming Holiday with that sort of payday. It almost felt as if he had no choice but to sign them over. In fact, last he heard, they renamed him “Mustard”. Not to mention the fluffy came at a great deal too. They were litter trained and neutered, even knew when to make poopies and alert anyone if they couldn’t make it to their designated box.

Though in Finn’s eyes, he would never understand how anyone wants a walking crap factory and all that hair near where food is prepped never quite clicked. But he didn’t think about it too much. As long as the customer is happy, he will be too.

Finn shook the head of the thought and went into the backrooms of the shop. Briefly passing by Emerson who was stocking up the take-home boxes for any newly adopted fluff. Each box had fluffy facts on it and looked like a small house, similar to that teddy bear business where one could make their own stuffy animal and take it home with them. Minus the bathing, naming ceremony and other services they tacked on. Those were also not alive, and didn’t babble or shit half their volume.

He fully walked all the way to the back of the room, ignoring a majority of the fluffies that were put back here for bad behavior as he set his eyes on the soiled sorry box in the corner. It was how they had left it two days ago. Subtle sobbing could be heard emanating from it as he approached. The closer he got, the louder it grew until he placed two hands atop the cardboard rim and pulled. Immediately, the stench of dried feces and piss entered his nostrils and it forced him to step back reeling in disgust.

“Ah Jesus! That reeks!” He cursed to himself and held a long breath in before braving, going forward once more. Inside the box was now a disheveled and filthy Taffy. Her once cream fur now was matted down in a crusty film. It was stained with brown shit and dried tears. Her slight sobs could barely be heard as she slowly panned up to look at Finn.

“P-p-pweassee… Tawffy numm all da poopies… neeee-” She groaned out, eyes looking half dead as she was forced to eat two days of her own crap. “Pweaassee hewp Tawffy, nu am bad fwuffy..” She closed her eyes to shoot more hot, stinging tears. But nothing came out. There wasn’t anything left to come out of her.

“What did you learn, Taffy?” He was impressed, though his tone did not convey this. Hopefully this would be the last time he would punish her this harshly as this might have done that bratty behavior for good. Her eyelids shuttered once more, looking miserable and full of woe.

“T-Taf-ee am sowwy nicey mistah. Am bad fwuffy…” Her frown grew larger.

“And why were you a bad fluffy?”

“Bad fwuffy be-caws nu wet nicey mistah howd bestest babbeh?” She guessed. At this point she really couldn’t be sure. It was forever ago to her mind. “A lot of bright times” as they liked to recall whenever it’s longer than two days.

Finn rolled his eyes and grabbed the lid, slowly lowering it back down. “Not quite. Perhaps some more time in the sorry bo-”

“NuuuuuuUUUUU!!!” She wiggled around and shook her body back and forth. The last of her tears leaked out from those rounded eyes. “Taf-ee nu wan sowwy bawks nu MOWWEEE!!!” She yelled at him from above as hands fastened the lid atop the box.

“Taffy… Until you learn what you did wrong. You will remain her-”

“PWEASE! Nuu mowe sowwy bawks…. HUuu hUUu HUUuuu.” She spoke over him. “Taf-ee knu wha du wong! Owny gudd fwuffy!!”

Finn stopped and pulled back on the covering before it sealed. “Go on…” His eyebrow raised and awaited the response. She thumped her hoof in frustration multiple times in quick succession. It rebounded up and down along the moist cardboard flooring, making horrid squelching sounds.

“Taf-ee… nummied nice mistah…” She didn’t lock eyes with him as she continued. “Dat am wong… Taf-ee am sowwy dat nummied ouu.” Her eyes looked up and conveyed distraughtness. And there was a subtle flash in the iris, it was upsetness? It was evident that this mare had been fairly broken by this experience. And she did try to plead with him, the answer itself seeming genuine. No doubt, that once her poofy tail became saturated with shit would change her mindset. Designer fluffies were very simple to break. All you have to do is let them stew in their own shit… and I guess make them eat it… Finn pressed on.

“Are we going to bite ever again?” He started to move the top once more over the only entrance.

“Nuu! Nuu! NUU! Nebeh duu againsies!” She tried to stand on those stumpy back legs before collapsing once more. “Taff-ee p-p-pwomise tuu nebah nummie ouu ebah! Pwomise! Pwomise!” As she begged he slowly put down the lid onto the counter.

“You promise to be a good fluffy?

“Yeffff!

And will you take care of your babies?

“Yef” She nodded.

“And when the time comes. YOU WILL let them go?” He emphasized once more so that they were both clear. She looked up at him before swinging her head up and down heavily.

“Y-yeff nicey mistah! Taff-ee be gud fwuffy, pwomise!” Her ears perked up. This was honestly convincing enough for him. And obviously, not behaving she would be punished again. More severely next time, for sure. Make her eat an entire cake of her own crap.

“Fine. You can come out now”. Finn shook the shit-cake idea out of his head and lifted her quickly out of the box and onto the counter. He’s utilized both hands to crumple the well-used cardboard before tossing it in the burn-bin. It had served his purposes well.

Taffy, now beyond elated to be let out the stinky box, started to stretch her little legs with little pops and cracks from the well restrained joints. This was followed by a little prance around the marble table top and wouldn’t stop babbling about having her ‘weggies’ back. She stunk even heavier now letting all that built up dirt, grime, and crap make an invisible cloud of foul stink. And her matted fur needed some help before she was returned to the others. Couldn’t possibly put back the merch in terrible conditions. Plus, he was sure the others wouldn’t want to go near her following the new aroma she acquired. “We’re gonna get a bath first”. He stepped over the wash sink and flicked the hot and cold taps in quick succession.

Taffy heard those words and stopped completely before glancing slowly around to look up Finn. “B-B-baff?” Her ears and tail sunk low. “Wawa am bad fow fwuffies”. She looked a bit scared once more.

He plugged the sink and let the water start pooling before turning to her quickly. “A good fluffy would want to smell pretty for her babies, wouldn’t they?” He wasn’t ready to argue about how badly she needed her hygiene to reflect for the business and instead opted for the manipulation route.

“Yes. Dat am twuu… Wanna smeww pwetty fow babbehs.” She stopped completely, letting him pick her up again and placing her in the lukewarm water. It came up just to her chest fluff and he got a small hand brush and soap. “Dis am scawwy… Nu wike baffies…” She whined.

Finn rolled his eyes, ignoring her pleas as he dropped a dollop of oily lather in his hands. He has given her plenty of baths in the past before and every time it’s the same thing. So he continued to play blunt, and her demands fell on deaf ears. He rubbed the slick foam together and felt them become slick before fondling her fluff and mane with it. He wanted to get every space that had been crusty and rigid with soap before he scooped a cup of water. “Eyes closed” He ordered. She winced a bit, but did as was instructed. Taffy didn’t want to find out what would happen if she disobeyed again. He could see her puff up her cheeks, no doubt holding her breath as those eyes shut tightly.

The warm water poured through her back and head. The subtle shivers as it passed down her back made him hold her tightly. He got to scrubbing her fur, fairly rough in the spots where the shit caked her fluff. He wanted to be quick with it. This caused her body to rock back and forth as she flinched with each stroke of the thin bristles. She whined a bit more as he cleaned her hind quarters and then tail. He had slicked her mane up again before dropping another cup of water before it was complete.

He pulled the drain and let the mixture of warm water, fluffy fur, and flecks of shit go down the drain. Taffy began to shiver harshly from the frigid air. “Taff-ee am cowdies…”

“Stop complaining.” He reached up high in the cabinet and fished out a white towel before wrapping it around her and plucking her out from the makeshift tub. He deposited her on the counter once more and got to rubbing the dry blanket all around her fluff. He also made sure to get the excess waters in her ear before pulling it off. Her fur and hair instantly puffed up like it was caught in an electric storm.

“Taff-eee smeww suuuu pwetty!” She immediately sniffed at her hooves and admired how sparkly she looked. “Can hab babbehhs nao?”

“Hold on, we’re not done yet”. His fingers found a children’s comb and started to glide it along her fur. Starting from the top of her scalp all the way down to her hind legs. It wasn’t hard, she already had silky fluff from being a designer. And this was proven further as it flew over the mane like a knife through warm butter. Taffy naturally had curls when straightened out and this was no exception as he finished and her swirls of hair formed almost instantly. This was a huge transformation for her. From looking nearly feral to something that looked good on a shelf. He stepped back and admired his work. And he found newform pride. “Hmm. Taffy? What do we say?”

She stopped admiring herself and gave a toothy grin. “Tank ouu fow wetting Taff-ee owt sawwy boxies an gibbin nicey baffies! Smewww suu guud, babbehs gon wub mummah!” She cooed up at him before sitting on her back legs and wiggling her front hooves. She wanted uppies.

Finn obliged her and picked up the fancy looking fluffy, carrying her under a single arm. Open palm on the belly as he started back towards the front of the store. Pushing through both double doors, he made a quick right. Spotting Emerson right away, tending to a customer. A short lady with a shorter hairstyle seemed to be in a deep conversation. Her arms were folded and lips puckered as the young man seemed to babble endlessly to her about something. He couldn’t tell, only that this woman looked quite impatient.

Emerson made quick eye contact with Finn, alerting him that he may need assistance. It was a subtle cry for help as he reciprocated by making a double take down at the fluffy pens below. This would have to wait, and the young man gave a reassuring nod before returning to the woman.

Finn went back to the task at hand and deposited Taffy back down in the mummah pen. She was good as new, and oh so ready to return to the other mummahs.

“Hewwo Snowbaww an Daiswy! Taf–ee am backies!” “She chirped at them.

Both Daisy and Snowball didn’t move nor did they reciprocate a smile. Instead sporting on staring eyes and frowns. Whether that was reluctance to see her back or they were surprised was unknown. The babies chirped and kept their distance. Even Taffy’s own foals didn’t join her when they showed up and opted to play with their other new friends.

“Taffy will be joining back now, girls.” He smiled and leaned down to Snowball who would not stop looking at the returned mare with caution. “Snowball, you can give her babies back now. I appreciate you looking after them.” He scratched her ears as she cooed to his touch.

“Otay…Hab biggest heart saddies fow babbehs…” She trailed off, still not breaking eye contact from Taffy as she waited for her babies to return to her.

“Why?” Finn was curious. He thought she would be tired from looking after more foals. It was hard enough to train four at a time, she had six for two whole days. Not even mentioning the amount of food she would need to consume to accommodate the extra foals.

She beckoned Finn to come closer with a single hoof. And spoke in a hushed whisper. “Snowbaww tinkies dat Taff-eee am… dummeh mummah.” She did not wish the little ones could hear the bad language used as she continued. “Taff–ee nu gib miwkies tuu aww babbehs. Owny gib miwkies tuu bestest babbeh. Babbehs towd Snowbaww, dat dey git sowwy hoofsies twyin tu dwink miwkies be-foe bestest babbeh!” Her eyes widened. This was unthinkable! And they instantly started to well with tears. It was inconceivable for a mother to deprive all her babies of good milk. And yet, Taffy did this willingly according to her records.

“Well now she only has two left, Snowball. One for each milky place. You’re a good mummah though.” He ruffled her hair lovingly and petted over Daisy as well. She often remained silent and accepted the pets. “It’s alright, Snowball. Time for them to go home.” Whether it was true or not, it did not matter to Finn. Bestest babbeh was taken away and with only two foals left, there would be no way to hog all the milk to just one foal.

“Snowbaww wan see ouu babbehs. Pwease com to Snowbaww, wittew babbehs!” She beckoned a green earthie filly and yellow pegasus over to her. Their manes still have not come in as little tufts at the base of their head and tail started to show spouts of potential adult hair growth. They had just finished a round of huggie-tag before waddling over and sitting in front of the much larger white fluffy.

“Yus mummah?” They both said in unison. They were very obedient and Taffy blew a quick puff of air out of her nose at hearing this. The tail flicked as well, before her cheeks puffed up and then out just as quickly.

“Dat am Taff-ees babbehs…” Taffy whispered in an annoyed tone. She thought she had been so clever and that nobody had heard her. Finn did, however, though he did not act. This was the truth after all.

“Ouu am guin tuu dumm- Taff-ee nao.” She caught herself before beginning once more. It was impossible not to notice the little beads of tears forming in her pupils. Bu ouu boff am gud babbehs. Be guud fow ouu mummah.” She said with melancholy hanging in her words. The babies looked very devastated with their eyelids stretching wide. The pegasus couldn’t help but fall on her back as she began sobbing.

“Nyu mummah nu wike babbehs? Huuh uuu.” She howled as her brother joined her. Matching the energy and hot stinging tears that flowed down. Snowball hushed them down and pulled them both into a big hug. They instantly settled down and nestled into the white tufts of fur. It was warm, smelled so sweet and wished they weren’t anywhere else in the world at the moment.

“Husshies babbehs. Ouu am guin tuu be wiff ouuu mummah. Snowbaww wiww mifff ouuu suuuu muchiess!! Ouuu gib Snowbaww da bestest hewat happies!” She held them tight before releasing. She then used her snout to push forward. Her nostrils collided with their rumps, beckoning them onwards. “Guu beee wiff ouu mummah nao”.

They were moved steadily forward as the yellow filly looked back and then waddled reluctantly towards Taffy who had opened her arms. “Babbehs! Mummah wub ouu!!” They were scooped up by her instantly. They cooed and sighed, like they were out of it. Maybe emotionally exhausted from having multiple mothers along the week. Taffy quickly sniffed them and retched a bit. They did not smell like HER babies, these were icky like Snowball’s babbehs. She rubbed them against her now clean fluff, trying to get the new, fresh scent on them to mild success. This would take a while. But her willpower to be a good fluffy mother seemed determined to do so.

“Taffy, you are to feed both your babies. No exceptions.” Finn was quick with it and she returned a smile up at him.

Taff-ee pwomise nicey mistah! Wiww wook afta babbehs!” She cooed and started to sing the “good mummah” song. This lasted a few moments before she huffed the returned babies.“Smeww wike Snowbawww…” She mumbled under her breath as she began to place them on her teats. They suckled greedily, no doubt since Snowball had to ration for her other ones. Finn turned to walk away, the job a complete success when he saw Emerson and the woman from before approaching.

“And here I will direct you to Finn. He has all the answers to your questions.” Emerson smiled and brought forth the lady with dull auburn hair. She had all black attire including a dark band t-shirt and matching ripped jeans. Her arms were covered in tattoos and she stunk heavily of cigarettes. It seemed to follow her, like an unseen cloud of lingering odor. She offered a small smile in return as the young boy deposited her with Finn.

“How may I help you?” His jeans were patted down with a swift strike to the thighs to clean it from anything the fluffies wore off on him. He also sported the usual customer service voice and face on, forcing his cheeks into a generous grin.

“So, I’m looking for a fluffy to feed to my snake. I heard you got quality ones here for pretty cheap. I had a look around here because I need them in good shape, free of disease and plump enough to feed for a solid two days…” She looked around at the various toys stocked on the shelves and the multiple price tags strewn about. “I have looked around here, but everything here might be beyond what I’m looking for.” She was quick with it. Honest, open, and to the point. This would be easy.

“Perhaps you might be interested in our selection in our joint shelter?” He offered to her as he pointed at all the price mark ups. “These are absolutely for sale, and meet your criteria. But I expect you want something more… expandable?” Her face instantly lit up.

“Oh… Yes, where is this selection?” She seemed confused and probably under the influence. There were huge signs when you entered that clearly displayed where to go. “SHOP” on the left and “ADOPT” on the right. He thought this was obvious, but to some this was apparently a very difficult concept. Finn had kept his composure and beckoned the lady to follow him through the separating doors that led into the shelter portion.

…

It was the immediate scent of piss, shit, and overused cleaning supplies that hit them first. Instantly it was an assault, a planned hit on their noses as a torrent of fluffies ran to the front of their steel cages upon seeing the woman. They begged and rattled the chain fence with a cacophony of rushed words and demands.

“IS Dat ouu mummah?” a green mare cried out.

“Smewwsss funneh”. A dull orange stallion backed away and swatted at the air to clear its scent.

“Nyu mummah? Pwease gib fwuffie homesies!” Another one. This time a blue stallion shouted and stood on its front legs. Finn quickly pushed him aside with a swift kick to the fencing. It fell backwards and pissed onto its own chest. He sobbed and cried for huggies which the other fluffies provided for him. The lady looked unimpressed as he led her to the younger fluffy pens.

Various colored foals were here, no larger than that of an adult fist. Some peeped and chirped. While others were completely awake and staring up at the giants that approached them. They were stunned, unlike their adult counterparts that were like an unending noise of questions and commands. A miniscule pile of turds stacked in the corner, uncleaned and unbothered. This caused the entire pen to end up stinking as the tiny fluffs all gathered far away from it. The woman eyed them up and down before peering down at their price. She sucked in a small amount of air through her gritted teeth.

“I don’t know… You’re asking a lot for herd rescues- I mean, ten dollars for this orange one is absurd!” She pointed at a matching dull hued unicorn who blew a raspberry at her in return. “Do you have anything for super cheap?”

Finn thought for a moment. These were decent priced foals for what she was looking for in a fluffy. Hell, it didn’t have to satisfy them completely, only serve the purpose of being decent food for a much better predator. Then it hit him.

His eyes scanned over the pen with intent until he finally spotted it: Inside the pile of shit was a chirping, sputtering brown foal trying to sprawl its way out from the mound it found itself in. He instantly plucked it by the scruff trying not to get any of the filth on his hands with moderate success. It chirped and squealed before he released it and had it placed in his palm showing it off.

“I can part with this one for three dollars”. He was deadpan and really just wanted to be done with the transaction and hurry back to doing more important things. And this was a bargain considering its coloring. Its eyes darted around and looked between the two of them.

“N-Nyu mummah fo poopeh babbeh?” the foal asked weakly.

“Oh my god what the hell is that odor?” “The lady responded, her nose shriveling in the stench of the poor fluff before her. She couldn’t take it and quickly placed her hands over her nose.

Finn slicked his hair back with one hand. “Ah sorry about the smell. You see the other fluffies will deem them a “Poopie fluffy” due to their colors. I assure you this one comes at a great price, regardless. You’ll just need to wash her before feeding time.” He offered it once more to her. She reluctantly took it in her hands, inspecting every aspect before she unceremoniously dumped it back in his hands.

“Look at this! It’s more than unacceptable. It being covered in shit wouldn’t bother me but the fact this thing is nothing but skins and bones. I can even feel its ribs between my fingertips… My little snookums could choke on this!” She turned to leave, giving a single shoulder jutt that collided with Finn’s rudely. “Forget it, I’ll find somewhere else”. As she departed, the scent of smoke didn’t leave. It lingered like a stain, something that couldn’t be wiped out.

Finn stood there, nearly stunned. He had no idea what to think. Only that this brown shit fluffy lost him a sale and it wasn’t even his fault it ended like this. Had this thing not been covered in feces and grim could he have most likely made some sort of sale. At the very least getting rid of the brown colored ones. They always ended up being burned to death when adulthood hit. The paperwork was tiring enough to draft up.

He had to restrain himself from crushing this foal in his hand like a paper ball. And how badly he wanted to smush this thing into a bloody pulp of fluff and marrow. That would be a more satisfying death for this runty, worthless foal. His attention and frustration turned toward Amelia.

She was clearly busy at the moment, breaking up a stallion pen fight by pushing them apart with a single rubber sneaker kick. They separated instantly before she began to tend to their litter pile. A large flat head shovel was craned in her arms as she pushed it into the massive pile of manure. She was careful in pouring it into a large, black trash bag that hung along the brick nearing the entrance to the pens.

Years ago they would keep it near the iron gates as it was easy to clean at the end of the week. Though they learned very quickly that this was a bad idea as some of the fluffies (they really still have no idea how) managed to stack themselves and get the bag swinging before it pierced and coated the entire stallion cage in a mountain of week old fluffy crap. It took nearly a week to scrub everything clean. Truly a dark time in the shelter’s history books. And one left forgotten.

Finn continued to move toward her and approached like a ship careening into a port. The brown fluffy in one palm and a slight angry step had him moving like a bat out of hell. He huffed and puffed, staring at her before she had noticed him. She was drenched in a slight sweat. It glistened off her skin like morning dew.

“Hey, Finn.” She used a single finger to push up her bangs before stepping over the now hugging fluffies, apologizing to one another. She nearly fell over trying to step pest them and that lush brown hair fell once more. “Is that the poopie-fluff?”

“It is. Care to explain why she was found neck deep in the other foals’ shit and piss? I mean, the damn thing was literally begging for help. And that makes us look bad.” He was annoyed. She was first and foremost in charge of the majority of the shelter pens and if anything didn’t look good enough to sell then it reflected poorly on the rest of the business. And this specific incident of the foals acting up cost him a sale today. This was her domain, something he let her run completely how she wanted, even letting her wear earbuds on the floor as long as they were covered up by her long hair which she often wore down for that exact reason.

She just half chuckled sarcastically as her hands spun around showing off the entire room. It was vast, like a long almost never ending hallway. A messy cacophony of fluffies were squealing and wailing. “I have all these tenants to take care of. Sorry that one little undesirable color wasn’t on my radar today. I’ll take better care next time…” She sucked in air before continuing. “Besides, the brown ones are a dime a dozen. We can flip them faster than the mares crap out new-” She leaned in and whispered “Babies”. No-one wanted to stir up the masses with the “B” word and start the fluffy French revolution where mares would most likely start clambering up one another to find the stallions in the pens to knock them up.

Her tone was that of factly. And she quickly brushed past him and started to clear out the mare pen of their overfilled turds. Many scrambled away as fast as they could as Amelia moved fast and quick. And if you weren’t swift enough, then you would be swallowed up by ‘big metal sorry-stick”. Before being deposited into the bag of foul smelling feces. This actually happened more often than a lot of the staff would like to admit.

“I don’t think she’ll last “next time”. His tone was snarky and he spun around before following her closely. Matching every step. "You’re good at scanning the entire floor for anything and everything. I have seen it… And you know as well as I do the stallions and colts are the ones that need the most watching. Especially when it comes time to separate foals. My theory is that this one slipped past your gaze. And you just don’t want to admit it”.

She heaved and grunted while shoveling a large heaping of the shit into the waste bins located at the beginning of the pens before sighing heavily. It was like a balloon being released slowly from its nozzle as it seemingly traveled around the room. Releasing its energy until she finally spoke. “I will watch better in the future. But, I can tell you why it “slipped my gaze” as you put it:.”

She pointed a single finger towards the wall before panning it slowly across the horizon. Once more she gestured towards all the pens and fluffies within them. It was a chorus of crying and screaming. The demands and constant babbling was like torture to anyone who hasn’t gotten accustomed to it. It really mirrored a never-growing up, futile sobbing and whining shit machine. Like the horror of an ever stockpiled daycare.

“Each and every one of these pens need my attention at any given time. I can’t drop everything to worry about one foal, Finn.” She drove the shovel down into the mess of brown remnants and grunted. Heaving the massive mound into the waste bin with an exaggerated huff. “And no offense to you: But we keep getting intakes. So I have more and more to look after. Its not that I can’t handle it.” She rested her chin on the wooden end of the shovel. Eyes were tired, bags filling under them as Finn saw for the first time. “Its becoming that exhausting time of year again.”

She had a point. One that he hated to admit was correct. He often forgot how busy they could be and without actually witnessing the day to day operations on a personal level was probably an oversight on his part. It was with this actualization that he finally started to simmer down. The tiny quakes stirring around his palm grew to a steady rumbling shiver. He gave a quick glance at the tiny morsel in the palm. Watching as it shivered and rolled around in the filth that had coated its thinning fur.

Finn reached two fingers into a sanitation cloth dispenser hanging just next to the pens. This was here for customers to clean their hands when they were done handling any of the fluffs in the one. They were the cheap knock off brand that would instantly wrinkle the nostrils of anyone who accidently managed to huff its fake lemon scent. They were most often used to wipe fluffy shit from hands before being discarded with major disgust.

Finn instantly plapped the wet nap along the foal, making sure to cover as much area as possible. The little brown fluff flipped around on its back and tried so desperately to push it away it became drenched in the moist cloth. Its maw grew wide before crying out weakly in small peeps and chirps before forming full words in the fluff language.

“N-N-Nu wan baddie wawa!” It cried out. Finn did a few passing overs and twisting before tossing the now worn rag behind him in a single flick. It made an audible “swish” into the black trash bag. The fur air dried nearly instantly as the little foal started to breathe deeply. Calming completely down within a few seconds before staring up at him. “T-tank ouu nice mistah fow cweanin poopeh fwuffy”. Its eyes sparkled and it even gave off a half smile. Wait, was that actual gratitude? He couldn’t help but stare back, dumfounded. It didn’t last long as Amelia approached him, waving a single hand in front of his eyeline. Something he noticed almost instantly as Finn wiped away that dumb look on his face.

“I have two solutions for this.” She pointed to the runty foal in his hand. “But you won’t like it.”

“Let’s hear it. Otherwise it’s just gonna die being harassed by the others. And we can’t re-sell dead merchandise.” He kept the foal in his hand calm by pressing a finger along its back and rubbing in long, smooth strokes.

“Option one: You milkbag a mare and that will be her one and only place for milk.” She started before Finn’s face contorted into annoyance.

“A whole mare for just one off color foal? That’s a big investment I can’t flip for.” He began his rant before Amelia quickly hushed him.

“Option 2: You feed the damn thing yourself. Bottle and all.” She moved past him and placed the now shit-covered shovel against a wall. “You have a small amount of space in your office that could be used as a pen, away from the others bullying her so she can grow.” She stopped and waited for his response.

“You’re right, Amelia.” He scratched his chin and looked down at the floor. Contemplating both options.

“Oh?” She responded, off guard.

“I don’t like either option.” He huffed before walking back to the foal pen and placing the now cleaned brown mare back down. This attracted the attention of the other fluffs who stopped hugging and playing to deliver stink-eyes to the one that returned.

“Dummeh poopeh fwuffy am bakkies?” A familiar pink unicorn asked.

“Wha am poopie fwuffie duin? Nee poopies qweaned!”

“Guud. Wiwac made poopies an nee wicky qwueanies”. A purple one held its head up high upon saying this and presented her backside for the brown foal to see the mess she had made.

These weren’t petty threats either. In the back where he had plucked the poor brown foal earlier was now a pile of turds that gathered in a mound. Some were solid pieces while others were the awful remains of fluffs who couldn’t keep it in and let loose a fire hose of fecal matter. Not to mention the stink. It wrinkled the nose of anyone who walked by. How they managed to double the pile in the small minutes the conversation with Amelia had taken was beyond him.

“Amelia when you get a chance can you clean the foal pen?” He called out to her from down the hall. She elicited no verbal response, instead opting for a single thumbs up before he turned his attention back to the cacophony of the shifting fluffs. He placed the brown foal down, in which she immediately fell to the floor with those boney legs, her chin hitting the ground with a subtle plop. The other fluffies wasted no time and sniffed the air. The pink unicorn bravely stepped forward, almost acting like a leader as the other furballs gathered behind him.

“Poopeh fwuffy, nu smeww wike poopehs… Go wicky queanies Wiwaccc poopies, stupi fwuffy!” The pink colt announced to the others. Finn loomed over them and banged the fence multiple times with his boot. It rattled the the entire chain links which clattered together with tiny metallic clangs. This caused the entire pen to scatter and tense up from its startling noise.

“HEY! HEY! Listen up!” He shouted down at them, causing multiple heads to turn at once. “I don’t care for your color hierarchy or whatever you want to call it. This one is to have milkies just like the rest of you.” His tone was stern. He needed to get his point across as some of them were tilting their tiny heads in confusion. “If I find this “poopeh” fluffy eating shit out of the pile instead of milkie places, you will be given forever sleepies.”

That last line about getting forever sleepies stirred them a bit as some whined and knew what it meant. The ultimate destination of all time. And none of them wanted to go forever sleepies. They didn’t know what actually happened when Amelia came around with the cart and plucked fluffies out of the pen. But one thing was clear about the red door at the end of the hall: Fluffies go in, but never come out.

Finn slammed the cage once more. “Do I make myself clear?” This caused them to erupt in fast nods, each one not wishing to disobey. Some even verbally agreed, pleading with their high pitched, dumb assed voices. He looked over all of them and watched as the brown foal moved past the rest and right up against the milkbags’ teets. Latching on and sucking needily.

He would need to replace this one soon. Her greying fluff and mane was evident that she was expiring soon. Not just from age, but only was she able to produce enough milk for a handful of foals at time. And this one fed plenty every day.

He made steady eye contact with all the fluffs before returning in the back with Amelia who was thumbing through the notes of fluffies. “There. You see? I made a third option.

“I’m sure that will stick with them for quite a while”. She said this in a heavy sarcastic tone.

“Patience. Give it time”. It was a long shot that his plan would work. Fluffies were stupid by nature, and the foals were no exception. Fear is something their little fuzzy minds could comprehend. And it had not mattered anyhow, It was a cheaper alternative and the longer, harder options were avoided for the time being. And that, at the very least, made him happy.

…

Finn waved goodbye to Amelia and walked through the doors that opened into the clinic. Joyce was already hard at work. She was moving the cages of the intake fluffies into a rolling cart. Placing them lazily in before moving on to the next cage and repeating the process. They had passed all their inspections and were ready to meet the others in the shelter… All but one it seems as a thrashing purple mare was giving issue.

“Pwease wet Iwis guu. Nuu wan meanie huggies. Deese am meanie huggies!” She begged.

The bright hued pegasus laid belly down on one of the clinical tables. She was immobile due to the leather strap keeping her pinned. Though this seemed fairly useless as she was already swelling up due to her pregnancy and fast movement wasn’t anything she could be doing anytime soon.

Iris was still a fine looking fluffy and most certainly would stand out amongst the others in the sheltered pens. Another glaring difference was that she had been named which was probably the most annoying thing that adopters despised the most about a resell. It often elicited emotions about getting “Second hand goods” which was accurate ninety percent of the time. This however, was gonna be harder to flip due to her pregnant nature.

Her bellowed out belly was only three days from inception, and she was probably less than halfway done. Fluffy reproduction was surprisingly fast. Something Finn never got used to in his years of running the business. By his judgment, it would be two more weeks before she would become completely immobile and give birth to her first set of babies. Finn approached and laid a gentle hand atop her head.

“Hey Iris, how are you feeling today?” He began to rub her ears, knowing very well she was uncomfortable being pinned down along the metallic table.

“H-H-hewwo nicey mistah….” She responded as warmly as she could. “Wen daddeh commme bac-kies fow Iwis?” That tail swished back and forth anxiously.

“Oh Iris, we have been over this: Your old daddy didn’t want you anymore. You’ll live here now until a new mommy or daddy comes along.” Finn stroked her back as she sobbed a bit, tears welling up in those little eyes.

“Huu huuu… Owny wan-ted babbehs. Daddeh suuu meanies, nu wan-ted babbehs! Bu.-bu! Babbehs mawke eveyting betteeeww!” Tears formed in little beads along the bottom of her eyelids before they fell down her cheeks.

“I know… I know, you’re gonna be fine. You’ll stay here for a bit until your babies are born. Then you can join the other mares.” He assured her with a few more pets on her silky coat. This calmed her down quite a bit as breathing slowed down to a gentle coo. For the time being she was safe, warm, and probably relieved she would be allowed to have her babies.

He badly wanted to move her in with Snowball and Daisy if only for her colors alone. Plus they would enjoy having more babies (no mare would ever say no) and a new playmate. But she was a re-sell, and he couldn’t lie to potential adopters about her previous ownership. Not that he could get away with passing her as one of his specially bred and trained fluffy. Even if she was probably in better shape than most of the fluffies in the shelter. And with her gorgeous coloring and general health it would have been impossible to hide the fact she was a drop-off.

“Here, let me get you some food.” He switched around, not wishing to upset her more before reaching up to grab a plastic bowl from the top cabinet and filling it halfway before placing it in front of her snout. It laid there untouched for a few seconds before it was sniffed in little increments. Her tongue stuck out and shoveled the bland food into her mouth.

“Icky kiwwbe…” She whined. Probably used to having skettis almost every other night when living with the previous owner. That sickly sweet marinara sauce is something she would never taste again living within these walls. But that bratty-ness is something he would need to wean her off of. If not, the others would probably beat her to death. The shelter fluffs consisted highly of ferals. And they hated the ones who originally had mummahs and daddehs. She would be fresh meat to them.

“I can always take it away…” Finn reached for the bowl. Iris’ eyes went wide.

“Nu! Nu! Wiww nummie kiwbbew… Su hungwy…” wiww make miwkies fow bestes babbehs…” She spoke to herself and bit at the stale food with a crunchy, clicky chew. Clearly she was used to much better dry food from her other daddy as well. But with him being out of the picture and tummy most likely hungry. This would do better than nothing. And she best get used to it, because it’s not going to get better than this.

Finn watched over her until Joyce came back through the doors with a now empty cart. She parked it in the back and hung up a clipboard before turning to him.

“Iris is in great shape, being a previously owned fluffy has that effect.” She picked up the initial report. “And while I was hoping for a solution for a missing milk bag…” She began before stopping and continuing on with the initial report. “Her teeth are in great shape as is overall physical health. She is about three days pregnant if we can trust the previous owner’s statement. I predict she’ll give birth in the next week and a half, give or take.” She put down the sheet of paper and pushed her glasses up.

“Hopefully she’ll have a great yield. This is her first litter, and with her color scheme we can expect at least one to look similar to her.” He smiled at Joyce who returned something similar. It wasn’t quite warm, but there was a flash of happiness behind those rounded spectacles. “It is quite a lucky drop off. Especially during the Winter season. And her previous owner treated her with care and wasn’t abused until the dropoff? This is great. I want to keep her here in the clinic until she gives birth. This way I can monitor for any complications.” She said this matter of factly.

“Yeah absolutely.” He nodded in agreement and petted Iris once more before moving past Joyce and back into the main hallway that led to his office. He locked the door behind him and set the walkie strapped to his hip along the charging port, turning the knob slightly to quiet it down. He leaned back heavily before forwards once more, fingers interlocked with themselves and bent. They each cracked in individual pops before flexing over the keyboard in front of them before clacking away to work on the intake forms to be sent to the state. This was going to take a while.

Three days later…

…

“OK… Iris, I’m gonna use the “coldies” stick. Just like yesterday…” Finn spoke to the purple mare. She had gotten slightly larger in her pregnancy in the past three days. Her belly is now bowing out more than the previous days. They had moved her into a glass cage inside the clinic until she would give birth as per Joyce’s instructions.

“Mmmm otay nyu dadd- Nicey mistah.” She quickly corrected herself. This was lesson number one for any new entries: The staff were not their new owners, and as such were trained to use the “nicey mistah” or “nicey wady” phrases as often as possible. It was a much better look for when potential adopters would see that they could be trained. And most fluffies understood the concept of them being strangers rather than their new owners. As long as they didn’t have a name. Something Finn didn’t bother changing as it was going to be on her chart anyways.

“Okay… Good girl.” Finn’s gloved hand brought the stethoscope underneath her belly. He dove the tool underneath her fur to which she flinched and whined. “Shhh shhh I know… Almost done.” He held the tool firmly and focused on listening.

A large heartbeat bursted and pounded through the metal bell. It was funneled instantly into the earpieces. *Thud thud, thud thud…* It sounded out in quick succession, repeating every half second. She was a bit nervous, but calmer than yesterday. Finn quickly noted this in her chart with his hand before moving the instrument lower down her body.

It was utter silence, same as yesterday. She was getting bigger, but her foals were still cooking in the oven, so to speak. Their organs probably have not even formed yet. He would need to keep monitoring. Otherwise she was in near perfect condition except some bruising that was healing up quite nicely. A generous gift given to her by her previous owner during drop off.

“Iris, you look great. Just keep eating the kibble and drinking your water and your babies will be here in no time.” He retraced the instrument much to the happiness of the fluffy who cooed with joy.

“How wong tiww babbehs comme?” She asked as Finn began cleaning the metal instrument with a sterilized wipe. He turned around and looked at her, puzzling.

“Ohhh uhh. Probably another two weeks or so. Maybe even longer?” He returned the instrument and met eye to eye with her. She stared back. Just staring off into space before her brow furrowed and she began mumbling. Finn caught on after a few seconds. “Ohh right… Fourteen bright times.” He offered a smile.

Iris’ eyes immediately lit up. “Dat suu guud! Am gun be mummah suun!” She chimed and did a little prance around her cage. She could still move, albeit very sluggishly carrying around the still premature but growing foals.

The Display was nothing short of adorable and it melted his heart for a few moments. He shared the happiness of having babies. Plus it means he would have some more foals with good colors and health he could sell once they were weaned off their mother. He might even train some under his program and move them into the pet shop, depending on their colors of course. He had extremely high hopes for this one.

CRACKSHHH!

A sudden crash through those double doors had Finn’s head careening towards the noise. The other fluffies looked and cowered backwards. Their shouts of “Bad noisies” were instantly replaced with subtle sobs as someone they recognized stepped through it. It was Amelia who had broken through the twin doors, letting them swing shut behind.

“Finn! Gonna need your help for this one…”. She looked a bit more disheveled than usual. Her tucked in shirt spilled over the belted section loosely and that mess of hair had loose strands peeking out from every angle. Almost like looking at those ugly troll dolls with technicolor plastic hair.

He looked at her unsurprised and braced for the bad news to come. “What’s wrong this time? Did the mares fight over who had the bestest baby again?” He half chuckled.

“No, no. It’s the foal pen. The pink one we rescued…” She looked anywhere but at him. “He’s been hurt.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed and he started walking towards her. “The same from that wild herd?” His voice held subtle concern. The colors on that one were beyond impressive, a direct splitting image of the mother. And something he was hoping to keep as a breeder in the future.”Show me.”

They both strutted quickly past the other fluffies in the pens. Some were pressed on two hooves and pushed against their confines. While others were cowering in fear from the altercation that they heard. It was not uncommon to hear crying, but they all cowered together in a chorus of misery. No doubt they had seen or heard whatever went down.

“Nicey wady and mistah, pwease hewp babbehs! Dey am shouties! Hab wostests owwies!”. A dull green unicorn was pleading with them. The other tenants were crying and shouting. It was incomprehensible, an overflow of information. Some were showing concern for the foal pen while others were just helplessly begging to be taken away.

This was nothing unusual for these fluffies as they mostly did it on a daily basis. What was rare, however, was the screams of foals. They were kept in better living conditions. Having friends to play with and all the milkies they could drink between the lot of them. So hearing a screech would send the others into a tizzy. It was beyond rare though, and so was the injury. “ScreeeeEE–EEEEEee!!! Wowstes owwiesss!!” A voice cried out as Finn looked over the pen.

What stood before them was a multitude of multicolored foals rounded in a circle around the scene. In the center of this fluff oval was the familiar pink stallion. He laid on his side, as a sharp crimson liquid was pooling from its lower regions. He was crying his eyes out. His front hooves covered the lower region while his back legs were kicking out. Back and forth in frustration. “Speciaw wumps hab wostest owwieees!!! Huu huuu! screeeEEEE!” He screeched out, raising his voice higher in a squeal like a wounded pig. Both Amelia and Finn covered their ears to avoid going deaf from its hollowing howl.

“All right, all right let me see…” He heaved a foot over the small gate and into the pen. Most of the fluffies scattered seeing his large boot collide with the squishy newspapers and hay. Finn bent down amongst the soiled flooring and inspected the screaming fluffy over. “Amelia, get me a wash cloth and make it warm. Please”. He was stern.

She trudged away to fetch his request as Finn looked over the injured foal. He gently used his fingers to part the hooves so thatthe damage could be seen. The pink stallions’ balls were completely mangled. Its skin which holds the testicles was still hanging on loosely, like it was ripped away slowly through applied force. They dangled free, its old tenants completely missing. This would mean he couldn’t breed this one.

Finn cursed under his breath as Amelia returned with the wash cloth. He took it and thanked her. The spongy material warmed the hands before pressing it against the wounded area. Much to the dismay and pain of the pink stallion who began to thrash around.

“Pweaaase hewp, hewd! Hewp bestest babbeh!!!” SCREEE!!” He wailed much to the dismay of the other fluffies. They began crying and running away from the noise.

“Calm down, I know it hurts. We gotta stop the bleeding- Wait…did you say “herd?” Finn stopped his treatment and matched eyes with the pink colt’s.

“Yeff! Dis am bestest babbehs hewd! Gun gib meany wady sowwy hoofsies and sowwiest poopies if nuu gib sketti an wand!” He puffed up his cheeks completely seriously. Clear signs of bratinnies, the demanding others property, and the threatening of crapping itself and on others if it didn’t get what it wanted? All signs point to the obvious.

“Oh wow… A smarty? And so early.” Finn pressed harder, anger rising and wishing to take out the frustration on this little morsel. The foal felt this and started screaming as the pressure crushed whatever was left of his spoiled testicles.

“ScreeeeeEEE!” His maw hung loose as a piercing scream rolled out before his pupils twitched into the back of his head before becoming relaxed and waned. The pain must have gotten too intense for him. Still alive, just passed out for now. Finn released the rag and took the salve bottle from Amelia’s offering hands. Spraying a generous amount on the wound before eyeing the other fluffies.

“OK. Which one of you bit his balls off?” He stayed crouched to the ground to meet their sightlines. None of them said anything and looked at one another. If he had a violent fluffy in the foal pen, then this would be chaos. And this clearly wasn’t an accident. There were obvious signs of fighting, and if he had two smarties and this was a planned hit then more problems down theroad. No, this he was going to take care of here and now.

“WHO DID IT?” He shouted, impatiently. A majority of them covered their ears while some pissed themselves from the noise. Again, no answer. They were either too scared or didn’t want to admit for fear of being punished. Something he was going to do once they gave up the culprit. His methods of fluffy torture far surpassed that of a sorry boxing.

Inside the cart laid a super soaker gun, one he filled with crushed mint leaves and cold water. The water itself was horrible in the winter, and would drench their fur, leaving them shivering from the frigidness. And if that wasn’t enough to deter them. Then the stinging aroma of the mint leaves would make it so that other fluffies didn’t wanna be around them. They called it “Buwny smeww” and often associated it with the smell of what’s behind the red door.

He gave it a few pumps, watching them cower as he did so. They have seen this being used before as some were cowering in place. “I’ll give you all to the count of three. Or you’re gonna be given bad “wawwas” and “Buwny smell”. Finn mocked them. “WHO DID IT?”

*\*cough, cough, kaff!\**

It would seem he would not have to give anything today. A loud coughing fit from the rounded pile of fluffy foal turds rang out. A brown unicorn came trotting forward. It was boney, covered in shit, and had scuffed fluff to match. It limped on its back leg and its left eye was swollen nearly shut. Maroon colored blood stuck to its cheeks in little flecks of dried patches as it wobbled past the other fluffies. They had parted for it as they complained about “Nuu smewww pwetty”.

It stopped right in front of the pink stallion spitting out two orbs at its back legs. Covered in drool, but clearly identifiable as the stallion’s balls. Or what was left of it, as the tear wasn’t clean and they were mangled beyond repair. The pink, veiny orbs laid lazily below the pink colt’s legs.

“P-Poopeh…Poopeh Fw-Fwuffy gib wowstest speciaw wump owwiesss.” It choked out, coughing up some identical matching fur. Finn just looked down at her with a quizzical gaze. “Fwuffies owny gib poopeh fwuffy poopies tuu num… poopehs evewy bwight an dawk time!” She began to cry in large heaves of sobs looking over the other fluffies who snickered. “Huu huuu… Asssk fwuffiess fow hewp, buu owny gib poopiess an sowwy hoofies wen-” She paused for a moment.”Suuu tiewed nummin poopies. Suuu hungwyy.” Her stomach had growled as the other fluffies looked down. Couldn’t even match eyes with her. Or they refused to as they so often claim that the brown ones are below them on the fluffy hierarchy.

She was beyond upset, and Finn almost felt bad for the withered foal. Placing her back with the others might have been to rash of hm. Furthermore, he felt a twinge of sadness for the brown and green fluffies unlucky enough to be born that way. Being treated with fluffy racism then forced to eat the fecal matter and then beaten and bullied if you refused? Just brutal life for the bad colored ones. It almost justified the violence. He pressed her for more “And that’s when you bit your brother’s balls off?”

Her eyes looked over the stallion that laid before her. They immediately filled with rage and disdain. “Bwuddah wen tuu make poopies wike awways. Poopeh babbeh asssk fow nummies. Suu hungwy and wan nummies su bad…” she began to explain”. Nu am nu bad fwuffy… Nummie awww poppehs, awways… HUuu HUU huuu.” Her anger left as sadness replaced it instantly. She started to sob and suck in air, barely catching her breath. “Den meanie bwuddah gib sowwy hoofies tuu poopeh babbeh fow asss-kin fow nummies. Owny wan-ted wicky cweanies tuu poopie pwace… Am nu bad fwuffy, buuu suuu hungwy… Poopeh babbeh, angwy fow bwuddah beein meanie. Poopeh babbeh saw speciaw wumps and suu hungwy! Gib nummies on speciaw wumps!” Her eyes sunk low as she showed the motion. Biting down in the air and throwing her head back and forth, like a dog trying to break the neck of its favorite chew toy. “Nu wan huwt bwuuddah, buu nuu wan num poopies anymoww…” She finished before falling to the floor belly first. Her eyes shut and tears not willing to hold back flowed like water from the lids. “Neee miwkies! Pwease, nu mowe poopies!!!”

Finn just scratched his chin after listening to her story. He was actually impressed by the bravery of the little fluff. Not to mention how fed up she was at eating crap. This was unlike anything he had ever seen. Most of them would be compliant, then die from malnutrition. No doubt this was the final straw for her and she wanted to take action. Even enough to hurt her own brother, which she probably cared less for now than ever.

“Damn, this one has some fighting spirit.” Amelia started to clean up all the rags they had used. Tossing them into the waste bins outside the pen.

“Hm, Yeah. But Pinky over here had breeding potential… Even if it had smarty syndrome.” He grunted. Part of him wanted to blame Amelia for this altercation, but this was inevitable and clearly not her fault: She had warned him. He wasn’t surprised at this point and rather felt disappointed in the loss of breeding potential. Though he had read somewhere that Smarty Syndrome can be genetic. It was often believed to be a defect in the DNA of the fluffy code. So maybe its a silver lining is that he wasn’t affecting the genepool with its less than desirable behavior. The pink colt stirred, his head raising as he awoke once more.

“S-Speciaw wumps?” His eyelids half opened to see the brighter pink hue of his precious balls laying on the floor. His iris’ shrunk and became worried as he quickly crawled, one hoof after the other over to them. Holding the drenched, spit covered testicles in those stubby limbs before trying to re-attach them, to no success. His frustration hit a maximum as the colt began slamming them into the lower crotch over and over trying desperately to heal them. “SPECIAW WUMPS AM NUU WER-KIN. SPECIAW WUMPS AM NUU WER-KIN! SPECIAW WUMPS AM NUU WER-KIN!!! PWEASSEEE MISTAH, HEWP SMAWTY”. He pleaded up to Finn who rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, shit-rat. No can do, those are off forever.” He had to use and offhand hide his smile. How he enjoyed watching smarties and dumb fluffies get exactly what they deserved. Finn quickly plucked up the runty brown mare and held it in his hand up to Amelia. His thumb coddled her head as she let out a weak, half asleep coo. She quickly fell unconscious in his warm palm before offering it to Amelia. She quizzically took the sleeping foal from him and reeled her head back in its scent. “Can you get a cardboard box for this one and place her in my office with a warm wash rag?” He smiled at her, much to her confusion.

“I’m sorry. Are you following through with option 2?” She asked as he shot pumps of hand sanitizer and lathered up his hands quickly in the oily scent of lemon.

“Well it’s obvious? She isn’t gonna sell if dead. And you were correct saying that it wasn’t gonna grow up here. Not with all the bullying and shit these rats keep feeding her. So I’ll keep an eye on it, bottle it. And when it becomes of age: We can solve our milkbag problem.” He gave her a reassuring smile. Amelia stood dumbfounded and mouth agape. Very rarely would he admit to being incorrect. Not to mention the confidence and willingness to let her take power in this situation.

“Ok. I like your thinking. I’ll move some stuff around and get her cleaned up for you.” She nodded her head while Finn reached into his pocket. Fishing out some jangly keys and tossing it to her. She caught it quickly with the other hand and walked back towards the clinic to clean her up before stopping at the door. “I like being correct”. Her coy smile stuck to her lips before she disappeared.

Finn wouldn’t say it out loud: But he liked Amelia. She had a sparky energy and a “I don’t care” attitude when it came to the bullshit side of running a children’s bio-toy shelter. It was during her interview he had asked her why of all the places she could apply to why she chose here. And her response was simple and short: “I don’t mind the suffering of the fluffs, as long as you pay me well to keep their pens clean. Burn them, cut their tongues out, and break their bones. I couldn’t care less”.

He offered her a tidy sum knowing that this was the harder aspect of running a shelter. They shook hands after that and the rest has been history. Finn had been needing someone with the guts to care just enough to keep them all alive. And there was no chance she would report how he beats and kills the unwanted strays in the back for fun to PETA or any other hugboxing moron. This was a great bonus.

There was a quick slam from the doors to the hallway that connects the shop to the shelter as Emerson came careening to a halt. Nearly knocking over a tool cart. A look of worry on his brow and sweat running down his temples. Something had him upset, or spooked. “FinnFinnFInnFInn. I need your help.Therewasanissueinthepenandididn’tknowwhattodoweneverhad-” He spoke quickly and in rapid breaths.

Finn could make out every third word but instantly grew frustrated and threw his hand up to shush him. “Wooah woahhh slow down. You’re going too fast. Breathe, man…” He threw out a hand on his shoulder to ground him.

Emerson took in a deep breath before exhaling. He slicked back his short hair and pointed towards the doors leading into the shop. “It’s Snowball, she’s bleeding badly. I tried to stop it but it just kept coming and coming. Now all the fluffies are all in a tizzy.” His face was grim. And as Finn’s smile faded slowly, the young man beckoned him to follow.

“What happened?” They both began walking towards the doors in a speed walk as Emerson began to explain.

“Taffy, sir. It was Taffy.”

…

Taffy found herself back in the pen with the other mothers. She couldn’t stop herself from waddling back and forth in confusion. Those little hooves made little *tup tup tup* noises as they sank along the padded pen. Her babies were playing with the other foals. A game of huggie tag ensued with the other little ones giggling as they had chased after one another. It was another beautiful and relaxing bright time being had by everyone in the mummah pen.

Her babbehs prior to play time, had received very good milkies from her. Then ran off playing. They thanked her for it like normal and licked their snouts happily. A near perfect image for any loving mother.

And yet something was boiling deep in her belly. It wasn’t the not-skettie kibble. No, she had grown accustomed to its tired flavor. This was something different, a feeling about her own kin, and of that Snowball and her own foals that had her more riled up than usual.

For starters, they no longer smelled of her pretty cream fur. They came back stinking of Snowball’s fluff. The all too familiar stench of another mare was almost heresy to another mummah. They also weren’t giving as many huggies as they used to. Often they would hold the warm embrace for a few minutes before letting go. This was noticeably smaller than before she was sorry-boxed. It was NOT ideal huggie time. And to make matters worse: She could have sworn they were staring at that white mare all day instead of her during the “good mummah” song.

“Dummeh Snowbaww… Am bad mummah fow babbehs”. She snorted out, brow furrowed in frustration and anger. The little foals continued to chase and hug one another, oblivious to Taffy’s stewing annoyance as Snowball and Daisy clapped their hooves in excitement. Taffy kept her distance and watched with ill intent. She so badly wanted to stomp over there and give the white mare the sorriest of hoofsies against her snout for even thinking of giving her babbehs better huggies than her. She was not as good a mummah as Taffy was. This was evident when she had bestest babbeh with her.

He was such a pretty color, just like Taffy. And unlike the other mummahs in the pen who had many colored babbehs: This was the bestest babbeh of all time. Taffy was convinced so. They would get only the first and bestestest of milkies, and would reciprocate with the most amazing dancies of all time! How she missed those little hoof wiggles as he stood on his back legs for her. They were wonderful displays that were cut all too short by the meanie mistah.

Her eyes went wide as the thought crossed quickly: The meanie mistah is the one who took her bestest babbeh away… Memories flooded in as she recalled her first litter. All perfect chirping babies that were so happy to be with their mummah. And as they grew up did he come. Images became vivid, and crashed in that little fluffy brain of hers like blows to the head: The constant bad-uppsies and her babies being moved to the “big foal-pen”. To never have the sweeties and yummiest of milkies or mummahs hugs. It was heartbreaking as the countless cheeping and peeping of her own babies asking for her love, were lost forever as he came and scooped them up.

This started a massive distrust and hatred in that little beating heart for the “meanie mistah”. She resented him for every baby stolen away from her loving and comforting embrace. And it ultimately ended in her recent sorry-boxing. One in which she stood on firm ground that it was beyond unnecessary! She had been not only a good fluffy, but an even better mumma! This was in foul comparison to Snowball.

That dummeh mare would willingly give up her babbehs anytime the meanie mistah came around? That’s bad mummah behavior. What fluffy mother would do this!? Babbehs are for mummah only! And anyone that disagrees is not only the worst mummah, but the worst, most stupidest, and dummeh-fluffy.

Taffy had stopped walking back and forth and stared straight ahead at the playing foals as they danced and pranced around the snowy mare. She was sitting on her back and giving lickie cleanies to an orange pointy babbeh who had just finished making good poopies. She could hear the cooing from where she stood.

“Awmost dun wittwe babbeh!” She lapped at his back side, clearing it of the brown smears as it tried to fight her. Their stubby hooves flapped around as it pepped and chirped. “Ouu am gun smeww pweetyy suun!” She started to hum her good mummah song before rolling over and placing the foal down to join its brothers and sisters in play. He swayed around, still adjusting before bounding after the others in huggie tag. Included in this game was Taffy’s last two babbehs.

A bright green stallion with a darker mane and wings was chasing around his sister. She was an earthie with a pastel purple coat and a cream mane that was coming in. It looked identical to Taffy’s coat. It curled around the tips and shone brightly under the sky lights above them. They were giggling and having fun with one another before Snowball spoke.

“Otay babbehs! Nuu mowe pwayin, Dis am nao timsies fow huggies! Guu backies tuu mummahs nao. Beee guud babbehs!” She cooed out to all the multicolored foals. Some were giggling and still playing, ignoring the pure white mare. Other foals sighed and hugged their friends goodbye before bounding off to their own mummahs.

Daisy sat in the back feeding two of her very young babies. Her eyes lit up when the other three returned for their huggies. They instantly wrapped and jumped atop her, nuzzling their short snouts deep into her pink fluff with little flicks and laughs. The giggles would put a smile on any fluffy who saw this sight. But something bothered the cream colored mare once more: All but two little ones didn’t even move a single inch.

Taffy glared down as the culprits were her very own foals. They stopped and looked at one another before returning a glance to their mummah. They refused to come to her, instead opting to stay at the flank of Snowball. The white mare, noticing her little friends, looked down upon them and offered a genuine warm smile.

“Otay, Taf-ee babbehs. Guu backies tuu mummah nao. Nuu mowe pway fow tuuday!” She cooed down at them in which they returned the same warmth she offered them.

“B-B-buuuh. Babbehs wub Snowbaww-mummah!” The filly peeped out.

“Yef! Babbehs wub ouuu! Ouu gib bestest miwkies!” Her brother chimed in, nodding his head in agreement. They cooed and purred which caused Taffy to instantly jerk up on all fours and started towards the pure white fluffy. She was huffing and puffing, a brow furrowed in anger and cheeks blown up like a puffer fish. The anger in her eyes. One could claim they saw steam coming out of her fuzzy ears.

“Nu-Nu babbehs. Nuu say dat abou ouu mummah…” Snowball instantly saw this and tried to inform the foals as she hushed the babies as the furious mother approached. “H-Hewwo Taf-ee! Babbehs jus-”

“Nu cawe, Snowbaww!” She snapped at the white fluffed pony, causing her to flinch and tuck that long tail inwards. “Wan babbehs, nao!” Taffy finished by slamming her hoof into the ground with a loud thump. This had the other foals in the pen to peep and turn their heads towards the loud display.

“Y-Y-yeff Taf-ee…” She was defeated and lowered her head towards the children. “Otay babbehs, be wiff mummah nao. Bee gudd babbehs”. Snowball pushed them towards the cream colored mare with her padded hoof. She didn’t want to part with them knowing that they were going back with her. It even gave her the biggest of heart hurties to do so! But she had no choice, they were not hers and she didn’t want to cause a bigger scene and upset nice mistah.

“N-NuuuU! Pwease nuu gib babbehs tuu bad mummmah!” The little stallion retaliated instantly and shoved against the far bigger hoof. He was running in place as he slid across the padded flooring. His sister began crying and pleaded with Snowball. “ Taff-eee am bad mummah! Bad Mummah! Nu wan! Nu wan! Nu wan!”

Taffy’s eyes went wide as she heard what her babies had said. Like fluffy lightning, she got right in Snowball’s face. Stuttering out the words in a relentless fury. “Ouuu AM BAD mummah! Gib Taf-ee babbeh nao oow gib dummeh mawe wowstest owwies and sowwy hoofies!” Her nose puffed hot air at the near shaking mare. The invisible steam of her snout caused fear into her as she pleaded with the babies below her.

“P-P-pwease babbehhhsss, guu backies tuu ouu mummahhhh. Huu huu-huuuuu”. Tears started to well in those bright blue orbs as she couldn’t stop shaking from the alarmingly angry Taffy. Her tail now completely tucked underneath and stuck to her fuzzy belly. Swishing no longer in joy, but horrid anxiety. Her other foals cowered behind her hind legs from the pure rage of the fluffy mother in front of them.

Taffy’s babies were now crying harder, heavier paced, and heaved sobs. The earthie mare had managed to snag her legs around Snowball’s in a tight hug refusing to let go as she howled out to her. “Nu wan guu tuu bad mummah! Nebah gib enuff miwkies! Owny tuu bestest babbehh. Eben dooo bestest babbhes is beeg fwuffy! NO moowee bestest babbeh!! huu huuh!!!”

Taffy’s chin lowered and eyelids became slits as her brow furrowed farther down until they couldn’t possibly go anymore. Those once innocent orbs filled up with the reletning anger of an upset mother. She sucked in air and puffed up her cheeks to make herself look even bigger before digging her hind legs into the ground. She used this friction to launch upright on those stubby back legs. Her body, casting a long shadow over Snowball as her one hoof was held high above her. It reeled back as far as it could for the runty pony and screeched a battlecry to which everyone could witness her.

“GET WOSTEST SOWWY HOOFIEeeeeEEES!” She cried before falling back down towards the white mare. Gravity doing most of the work as Snowball could react in no way, the towering mare looming higher above her as the heart-shaped, leathery hoof came down swiftly.

SMACK!

The soft appendage made contact with the snowy mare’s snout. It crumpled, reeling in on itself before sending her entire face and body into the ground. Her body gave a quick rebound with the impact of the force while the other foals watched in drastic horror as she was forced downwards into a prone position. Hot, scared tears that were once welling, came out in full force as she tried to cover those moist eyelids with her short legs. Trickles of blood leaked from her nose and eyes shot open with shock.

“O-Owwies! Owwies!!! Am gudd fwuffy!” She looked up at her attacker. “Pwease, Taf-ee! Nuuu huwties!”

The other mare frowned wickedly.

“NU! Ouu amm wostest fwuffy an bad mummah! Get sowwy hoofies!” Taffy screamed down at her and struck the same spot once more in a quick jab. The flat of her snout was sent back into the padded pen from the punch.

Huuu HUu huu! Nuuu pweaasee! Pweaseeee!!!” Snowball cried into the floor as the color of the fake grass tufts was slowly littered with splurts of maroon liquid. Its iconic pastel green was shifting to a bright coloring of blood.

Daisy and her babbehs had fled the scene. Rushing towards the pen walls before pressing their entire bodies up against them. They were shouting and wailing, desperately trying to get the attention of anyone listening. “NICEY MISTAHS! PWEASE HEWP! Taf-eee gibbbbin wowstest sowwy hoofies!!! BAD FWUFFY! BAD FWUFFY! BAD FWUFFY!” The purple mare repeated this alarm, banging against the plexi-glass.

Daisy’s words fell only on the ears of Taffy as she scowled back down at the white mare who was now speckled with her own boo-boo juice. Her legs shifted into an upright position as she attempted to crawl away. The cream colored bully instantly noticed this before building up that rage once more as she stomped the ground.

“Hmph! Ouu gib Taf-ee babbehs aww duh huggies. Taff-ee nebah hab enuff huggies cuss of dummeh Snowbaww!” She was seething and raised both hooves in the air before dropping them down on her left front leg swiftly.

“ScCCREE!!!” WOWSTEST WEGGIE HUWTiES!” Snowball cried out as her appendage cracked and started to shift the opposite direction. It was dislocated for the time being, but still in place. Tears welled up in large pools and she tried to move her back legs, but fear struck her as Taffy raised her front legs once more.

“Stuppie dummeh weggies! OUU NEBAH HUGGIE BABBEHS ‘GAIN!” Taffy cried as she brought down another strike against the same ligament. This time it bent further with a large “POP” sound as Snowball screamed in agony. Her babbehs held their ears closed. They had not wished to hear the misery of their mother. And yet they could do nothing. They felt solidified in terror like being encased in ice. Snowball’s leg twitched and shifted after the trauma had been dealt in sporadic increments.

“Nuu, nuu!.. Why can nuu feeew weggie?! Nuuu can feeew weggie!! Pwease Weggie, pwease mowwve! Pweasseee mooo–OOoowvveee” She cried and attempted to scramble away from her assailant. But nothing could be done, It lay limp and radiated an aching pain. Her other front leg managed to get some traction as she rotated slowly in the opposite direction. There wasn’t much progress as the Taffy loomed over her once more.

“Wheew am dummeh guoin?” She hissed down at the battered white mare. “OUu hab bestest nummies fow miwkies an Taf-ee hab tuu numm poopies! Taff-ee hab tuu be en sowwwy bakws!”. Venom was carried in those words as she scattered to the other appendage. Snowball could do nothing as her eyes darted upwards toward the other mare. There was fire in her gaze as she raised up those now bloody hooves once more. ”Bad mummah hoofsies!”

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK! POPPP!

They came crashing in a heavy flurry downwards. With each strike the ligament twisted the same as the other, shattering the other leg of Snowball. They gave a final twist, bending in the opposite direction with a sickly crunch.

“ScccreeeEEEE!!! SCREEEEE!!! NU MOWW HUWTIES PWEASE, TAF-EE!” Her back legs kicked out and a pool of finished gathering at her base. She was in pure terror mode and could no longer hold in the bladder, dropping it in a steady stream and feeling something else loose.

PFFFRR-TTTTTTT

Snowball could no longer hold it in and also shot out a steady stream of bad poopies along the wall and green fake grass. Staining and wafting up the scent of horrid shit and acidic piss that all the other fluffies feared. This was the worst, and she sobbed heavily at the crime she committed. It was the most unthinkable thing a good fluffy could do. And yet she was too focused on the pain.

This was so intense, like a thousand sorry sticks were given all at one. Snowball could no longer escape as her back hooves found no traction among the flooring. And her front ligaments no longer moved for her anymore. She found herself slipping into unconsciousness. The eyelids before being bopped awake with a sudden and quick sorry-hoof.

“Nu guu sweepies, stuppie! Ouu make bad poopies! Dat am bad fwuffy! BAD FWUFFY! OUu knu wah dat means..?” She sneered down at the beaten Snowball. Taffy kept her gaze before turning around. Her flanks rose around Snowball as she showed off her tail. It was curled and almost gorgeous in the way it flowed elegantly from the base and gathered in uneven strands along the end of it. This was, of course, after it was raised to reveal the puckering butthole that kissed at the shocked mare below. Then the horror scent which graced the snout of Snowball but for a moment as the angry mother above cried out . “SOoooOOoWWWWwwwWWWWY POOPIES!”

PFFRTTTTTTTT!!

“NUUUU–GHhjkllL!” The white mare made the mistake of screaming, opening her mouth and unfortunately welcoming the torrent of fluffy shit. It shot out like someone put their thumb on a hose, creating enough pressure to spray. Splattering along the snout and eyelids of the snowy white mare. Staining her white fluff with that horrid color of chocolate brown.

Then came the smell which immediately lingered and filled the pen with its rancid foulness. The odor had all the foals screaming “Nuuu smeww pwetty! Bad poopies!” While others stared in horror, unable to do anything and some making their own scaredy poopies at the sight.

Taffy sprayed down at the mare until finishing with an audible grunt. Letting all of it fall and spread out before the back hind leg gave tiny kicks. Mimicking how she would bury her good poopies in the litter box by flicking the sand upon it. Snowball laid shocked in her own blood and the diarrhea of her assailant. She immediately was trying to catch her breath. Her white coat now tarnishing her fluff with that rancid aroma.

“Kaff kaff kaff… Splurggh!” She couldn’t help but puke a small pile of her good nummies and some of the poopies up before collapsing into the wretched mixture face first. Her eyes burned from the acidic concoction and the air itself felt tainted. She wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else. Her breathing now slows down to a whimpering whine. “P-p-pww…Pweaaasseee nuu moweeeee… Pweaseeeee Huu hHUUU hUUUu… Am ammm gudd fwuffy…” She was croaking out in between gasps of heaving sobs.

Taffy was unimpressed and rolled her eyes down at the pathetic display. How easily she broke when faced with a superior and better mummah than her. The cream fluffed mare couldn’t help but reiterate: “Ouu am bad fwuffy, an wostest mummah ebah…” Her rage was nearly done as she huffed and puffed little shots of air out of her nostrils. But she wasn’t complete just yet as she saw fit to complete one final act of a “good mummah” protecting her babbehs. There would no longer be calls of Snowball being a better mother than her as she acted out her final plan, once and for all.

Taffy lifted herself on her hind legs and instantly placed down the front hooves along the head of Snowball. She planted them firmly and shook it around to assure she wouldn’t fall over. The white mare cried and winced, expecting more sorry-hoofsies and beatings before the cream colored mare applied pressure. Subtly at first before gathering in weight as she was slowly applying more and more of her weight. The back legs pressed farther forward as her body weight shifted into those leather padded hooves. “Wowstest mummah guu fowevew sweepies!”
Snowball’s eyes shot wide open and she found new strength in screaming. ‘WhU!? NUU NUU!!! NU WAN go fowebah sweepies! NU WAN, NU WAN. HEWP FWUFFY. HEWP, HEWWWWWPpp HEWPPP-!!!” Her high pitched voice howled out for anyone to help her as she twitched and tried to break free. It was of no use, and she was drained of any energy to escape. Her skull was audibly crackling and popping with each passing second. It wasn’t long before her voice became too hoarse and lost all octave in yelling. Her voice box tearing itself to shreds within the throat. Her jaw laid agape and nothing could be done as the tongue lulled out as the pressure shifted to receive the constraining force as her bottom maw was being pushed further into an unnatural shape. Not unlike her mangled forelegs which lay bent and seething in burning pain.

Taffy was doing this meticulously and as slow as possible on purpose, her ever growing sinister smile was evidence of such. This was a power trip to this bratty mare and she was in so much bliss giving this dummeh mare what was deserved. “How DARE she thought of touching her babies while she was away and convince them she was a bad mumma!” Her inner thoughts rushed by like speeding cars. This was divine punishment, a ritual to cast out the bad fluffy for good.

Snowball’s head felt like it was in an ever increasing vice. The weight became nearly unbearable as little floating stars danced around the vision. The wails and “huu huus” of her other pen mates were all but fading out. Her once pretty fluffy front legs were now all but useless, and the back legs weren’t much better. There wasn’t any solid traction and she couldn’t find solid ground to pull herself away from her assaulter. Her eyes slowly started to drift as she accepted her fate. She only wished her little foals had their eyes closed like when they slept. How good they were at falling asleep during the dawk times. She gave just a tiny smile and began to mimic them, shutting her own.

CCC–CCRkkkkkkKKRKkk

CRAACKKKK!

SccreeeeEee!!!

In a flash, all the heavy pressing in the temple was released at once. Snowball instantly began sobbing once more and made pained gasps for air. She had not cared if it was sickie wawas or bad poppies she was breathing in. The foul air felt good and hot tears formed in little orbs and they let loose just as fast. They became little waterfalls flowing from those bloodshot eyes to the fluffy cheeks where they collided into the ground and disappeared into the shit, blood, and vomit below.

“Holy Fuck!” A deep voice came from above her. She was half conscious as the rise in fluffy cries rang out ears.

“N-nicey mistah! Pwease hewp Snowbaww!”

“Suuu muchie Boo-boo juice!”

“Okay, okay! Shhh shhhh. I’m here now- Daisy! Step aside!” The voice was sharp and caused a lot of the fluffies in the pen to quiet down only but slightly as the cacophony started up again once more. Only Snowball could hear the massive squeals of other babies as a shadow loomed into view. “Aw shit… Shit, shit, shit! What did that bitch do to you?” His bad words made her reel inside her mind, nothing she could do about them as her front appendages laid useless.

They were very tall as they spanned upwards and appeared as a blur to the tired and beaten mare. But Snowball recognized the shape instantly. “N-Nicey M-ii-Staahh?? Snowbaawww hab….haf..haf haff” She trailed off. The air became thin and the room started to spin. Pain radiated in her legs and snout as dizziness began. The floor came up so wonderfully, and greeted her as the head smacked into it roughly. Eyes began drifting into sleepies, just like they have done many times before when dawkies happened. But this was a different type of drifting off. The irradiating pain and strain had taken its toll. And the promise of a nice rest would be so rewarding after the trauma she had seen.

It would be so nice just to have some sleep, any type of rest would be great. Heck, even the once horrific forever-sleepies would satisfy her. Anything to take away the horrid and burning sensation all over her body…

“Yeff” She had thought as eyelids fell upon themselves, and the world shifted sideways. Forever sleepies sounded just wonderful during this time. Her own growing boo-boo juice wasn’t gross anymore and instead created a warm bed and a comforting nest.

“Hey… Snow. Shit shit shit…” The words were, even though they were bad, became honey in her ears as she got comfy. Becoming stiff and letting the sleepies finally take her into the lovely rest. Those words became fainter, and more distance as the blackness of having those eyes closed finally carried her off.

…

End of part 1

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I had to split up this chapter into 2 to meet the Fluffy Community word count.

Please stay tuned and I hope you enjoyed! -Jbnuy459