FLUFFY ALICORN BREEDER,
Part 1
A note on the roster of breeding the Fluffy Alicorns.
Fluffy Alicorns have a month-long pregnancy, and a month long child hood (The space of time required for them to be fully weaned, however they don’t reach full sexual maturity for another few weeks after that) and the mares have a two week break after their Foals are sold.
To prevent flooding the market, the Breeder has a system where a Shed’s Mares will be bred on the 1st of the month, we’ll say January for this example, give birth towards the beginning of Febuary and have their Foals ready for sale by the first of March, and then be ready to be bred again by the middle of March.
The Shed-Mares are then pregnant till the middle of April, then raise their foals till the middle of May and are ready to be bred again at the beginning of June.
An easier method to explain would be:
Begin Cycle 1 (January 1st)> Breeding the Mares and then Pregnancy <(Febuary 1st)>Raising and training the Foals <(March 1st to 15th)>Foals Sold<(March 7th to 15th)> Reset and rehabilitate Mares. End Cycle 1.
Begin Cycle 2 (March l5th)>Breeding the Mares and then Pregnacy<(April 15th)>Raising and training the Foals <(June l5th)>Foals Sold<(June 15th to 3Bth)>Reset and rehabilitate Mares. End Cycle 2.
Following this routine, a single Shed can produce four Batches of Fluffy Alicorn Foals a year.
By staggering the Breeding Visits of the Stud Alicorns, he ensures that every month he has at least one Batch of Foals ready for sale.
Fluffy Ponies and Fluffy Alicorns in this Fluffyverse have 8 teats, unlike the Fluffy Ponies in more ‘realisitic’ stories such as Curse_these_ponies_they_Drive_mm_to_drink and others, where the Fluffy Ponies and Sub-Species only have the normal 2 teats of most equines.
Physiology:
8 teats, but due to their larger physical size, the Pregnant Dams are only reduced to a crawl, rather than needing to be rolled, although rolling would technically be better for them as it would result in less dragging on the ground. They still get hilariously bloated during pregnancy.
10 year lifespan, assuming no shenanigans. Breeding Fluffies, due to the constant drain on the body, tend to only live 5-7 years though.
Foot and a half high at the shoulders with 10 inch fluff, three inch long horns (blunt) and two slightly larger wings, also covered in fluff, otherwise the Alicorns are identical to ‘Standard’ Fluffy Ponies.
>Be a Registered Fluffy Breeder. Cost quite a bit to get set up. but as ‘home business’ goes, it’s quite the money-maker.
>Your 9-5 jobs isn’t exactly a high-flyer, after all, and you inherited a ‘fixer upper’ from a deadbeat uncle when the old sod killed himself swilling Medical Alcohol, and only realised you’d also have to pay all his debts when you ‘inherited’ his property.
>That almost sent you to the wall, and then you had a brilliant idea. People loved Fluffy Ponies, so what about something that was a Fluffy Pony, but one step better?
>Ordered high-quality gene-stock from the labs that churned out the little fuzz-buckets, got yourself some primo stock.
>Alicorns. Awwww yeah. Four Males, Sixteen Females. Foals sell for $50 a pop, $120 if the customers want them pre-trained.
>You were quite lucky, actually. You’d ‘bought in’ just a few months before the laws on Genetic Esperimentation changed.
>After that, the Government passed a law that forbade the creation of any new Fluffy Ponies or sub-species thereof. Your original batch, one stud, three mares, were the last of two-score Fluffy Alicorns the Biotoy Company produced before they were forcibly shut-down by Congress.
>Consequently, Feral Fluffy Pony numbers dropped significantly for nearly five years, but eventually their numbers recovered due to their natural fecundity and the idiotic garage breeders who just kept pumping out Foals in the hundreds to feed the Nation’s desire for cheap, attention-giving pets.
>On the news, something like three hundred people a year get caught, fined, and sometimes for repeat offenders, even thrown in jail for ‘Illegal Breeding of Artificial Chimeric Lifeforms’.
>Due to their superiour (heh) Gene-Stock, Fluffy Alicorns are longer-lived, possess an extremely weak telekinetic ability that is taxed by picking up an apple at best somewhat more durable bodies and possess an advanced, almost Human Child-level ability to understand Causality. Alicorns are a niche market but their popularity keeps growing, even as Fluffy Ponies keep getting abandoned or butchered in the bi-annual Fluffy Pony Purges.
>One snag, normal Fluffies hate Alicorns with a ferocity that’s almost unnatural. Whether it’s because the Alicorns are larger and have both horns and wings, or it’s an instinctive reaction to ‘competition’, a Fluffy will try its damndest to murder an Alicorn first chance they get.
>No Feral Alicorns because most of them get slaughtered by the enraged Ferals within a few days of their ‘escape’.
>It’s Mating time. Middle weekend of july, over Saturday and Sunday the 4 Stud Stallions will be left with the 4 Brood Mares and spend all that time playing, eating, sleeping and shagging.
>It’s Shed 1 this time, 4 Mares in full estruss and ready to be impregnated again. Due to Alicorn’s being highly complex creatures, pregnancy takes almost a month, and the Foals another month to be weaned off milk and be readied for sale.
>Keep yourself from getting attached to the Mares, never named them, don’t pet them anymore than you absolutely have to. They named themselves, however … troublesome.
>The Mares are heart-broken when their Foals get taken away, even as you promise them they are going to homes where they will play and sleep and be loved.
>You’ve learned the hard way that it’s best to give them Hugs yourself, an otherwise blatant violation of your ‘Rules’, so they don’t associate you with their heart-ache. Fluffies, even Alicorns, who associate Humans with threats to their Foals can sometimes start to smother their babies rather than lose them to a ‘predator’.
>And you have to reset their memories every time. Thus the Mares are kept in separate groups of 4, constantly getting pregnant, raising their Foals and then losing them, never knowing of the other groups of Mares. Thus, when they get the ‘Zap’ and can be ‘programmed’ to forget their Foals, there’s no loudmouth to remind them of it afterwards.
>Stallions you named, about as close as you allow yourself to get to the ‘stock’. Black, White, Golden and Scarlet.
>Okay, you suck at names, but the Fluffies understand who you’re talking to, and that’s all that counts.
>Mares are reclining on their favourite cushions in their padded enclosure, babbling happily about their toys and the cartoons they just watched. Aand they’ve been told that today, they get to have ay Time’ with Good Stallions.
>They don’t remember having Special Hugs, being reset so often, but they do ‘know’ that Special Hugs are a lot of fun, or at least you assume so, given how, despite five years of breeding, you’ve only had 2 mares that hated Special Hugs, even after Resetting.
>The how and why of why some things in a Fluffy Pony’s brain get erased, and some things don’t during ‘resetting’ has confused the best minds in the country. You just let it slide, so long as the Mares don’t have flashbacks to losing their Foals, it’s fine.
>Also, Alicorn Stallions are hung like Rogue Bull Elephants, relatively speaking, of course. 4 inches to the regular Fluffy Pony’s two inches. It’s actually kind of scary to think somebody encoded that into the Alicorns on purpose. And you’ve seen the Northern Roughback Fluffies going hard at it during Spring, for Christ’s Sake!
>No, you did not request the Epic Shlongs. It’s a genetic quirk, according to the automated response you got from the Help-Line.
>Had one large, German woman request a male foal. Insisted you not geld it. A week before the new legislation came into effect. Hell, she paid close to three hundred for your ‘Best’ Colt just walked in, slapped down the green and asked for the one with the best ‘pedigree’.
>You were worried about the competition, but since no other breeders have shown up, likely the little thing died.
>Vaguely remember seeing that woman somewhere on the web …
>When one of the Mares, a raven-blue colour, wanders past, you pick her up gently and tickle her hooves. She makes a surprised Yap! sound when you pick her up, then giggles adorably when her hooves are tickled.
>No, no, no! No attachment to the ‘Stock’. God Dammit!
>“It’s time to Play with the Good Statlions!” You say loudly, and the remaining Mares all start giggling and laughing and running around.
>“Fwuffie next, pwease pick Fwuffie next!” They cheer, good.naturely pushing each other as they wait with ill-concealed glee at the wall of their pen.
>The Raven-Blue Mare snuggles you as you walk over to the Breeding Pen, rubbing her face on your shirt and babbling about how much she loves to play, does the Good Stallion love to play too, can she play for as long as she wants to, will there be a Ball?
>This Raven-Blue Mare … you’re going to breed her with Scarlet the Red Stud Fluffy Alicorn, this time around. You bred her to Black last time, had what your employees affectionately referred to as the ‘Ninja Squad’ Foals.
>Seven black Alicorns that damn near caused a riot amongst the buyers. People were throwing money at you for them, and while that’s always a plus, the bitch-fights between the lucky buyers and those who missed out were definitely not good for business.
>You’re hoping for Purple Alicorns, hopefully with Scarlet’s DNA thrown into the mix this time around, although you’ve got equal chances of Red or Blue of various shades. Fluffy Breeding is an inexact science at best.
>‘Princess Twilight’ Alicorns would sell like hotcakes, however…
>The ‘Breeding’ Pen is 2 meter by 4 meter enclosure made up of the same snap-together walls that the rest of the ‘Pen’ is made up of, and has several low, padded benches where the Alicorn Mare can lay across so the Alicorn Stud doesn’t have to put his weight entirely on her back and hips.
>Scarlet is running around the Breeding Pen, chasing a small soft-plastic ball, cheering “Baww Pwayin’ wit’ de Baww!”.
>Introduce Raven-Blue to Scarlet. They rush up to each other, nuzzle one another and introduce themselves, then chase the ball.
>Let them play for a little while, get used to each other, then the magic happens.
>Also …
>DING!
>Ah, the special ingredient.
>Walk away to get their ‘Breeding Day Lunch’.
>Spinach-filled Pasta-pillows, covered in white mushroom sauce, left in a pot of hot water while the sauce gets nuked in the microwave. Enough for 8 fluffy ponies
>And liberally dosed with enough Bremelanotide to make a convent of Nuns randy.
>Walk back over, Raven-Blue and Scarlet are rolling the ball to each other, talking loudly.
>“Scawwet wike pwayin’ wit’ yuu.” Scarlet says, pushing the ball back to the Mare with a big, happy, stupid grin on his face. “Yuu nice, yuu pwetty, wike yuu a wot!”
>Regular damn Fluffy Cassanova, this one!
>“Sap’phiwe wike yuu too! Yuu nice to Sapphiwe! Wan pway aww day wit Scawet!”
>Put the plate of aphrodisiac-loaded pasta down and tap the plate with your finger-nail.
>Fluffles look up, see the steaming pasta and rush over, leaving the ball behind.
>“Oh, oh! Wook, Sap’phiwe! Nummies! Sketties!” Scarlet cheers, jumping up and down at the side of the plate. “Sketties for Sap’phiwe an’ Scawet!”
>Much hugging, much giggling. Then they start to scoff down the pasta, grabbing a ‘pasta pillow’ and eating them eagerly, groaning happily at the taste of the sauce, the pasta and the spinach.
>Scarlet, being a Stallion, has had more contact with you than the mare. A lot more training, and being a ‘Stud’, never gets ‘Reset’, so he has a lot more memories to draw on for reasoning.
>Mare gets most of the Pasta, as per the training. He even offers her some of the little pasta-parcels, holding it for her in his mouth as she nibbles at the edges, then takes it away.
>Yes, you are a hopeless romantic.
>You loved that scene from the Lady and the Tramp, but Fluffies and long pieces of spaghetti end in hilarity and ruin the mood.
>Well, at least you think so.
>Have a sinking suspicion that Golden might be into BDSM, he kept on ‘tying up’ the Mares with spaghetti then jumping them.
>Golden has all the patience of a randy sixteen year old after two months of enforced celibacy with a fistful of money in a bordello. Still, he’s energetic enough that he’ll mate several times in one go, and you’ve yet to get a ‘dud’ mating from him.
>Eventually, the pasta is all devoured, Fluffies are licking the plate clean, standing right next to each other.
>Their little wings are sticking straight out, and every time their wing-tips touch, the two Alicorns giggle and shuffle apart slightly, before slowly drifting back together.
>Get to it, of ready!
>Finally, they’ve had enough, and wander away to play with the ball again, leaning on each other and whispering what probably amounts to sweet nothings amongst Fluffy Ponies.
>Pick up the plate and take it away to be washed later. Not that they left much more than a few scraps of sauce…
>Time to go introduce the other ‘happy couples’ to each other.
>Should take about 10 minutes for the powdered Bremelanotide to kick in anyways.
>Golden’s going at it like he’s getting paid, eyes rolling, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, the Teal-coloured Mare under him clutching the sheet over her bench between her teeth and grunting loudly.
>…
>Lean down and check.
>Yes, Golden’s got the right hole this time.
>Golden never seems to understand that distinction. All Special Hugs feel good, so how can he give Bad Special Hugs?
>In the next Breeding Chamber, Black is working his magic, his partner putty in his … hooves.
>He can’t seem to ‘do the deed’ without Barry White crooning in the background.
>How that happened, you have no tucking idea, but whatever, its hilarious. He can damn near sing the entire ‘Greatest Hits’ album himself, so you just play the instrumental versions and let him sing himself into the mood.
>Mares throw themselves at him in a frenzy. Should have named him Swagger instead.
>“… Can’ get enuff o’ yoo wuv, baybeh …” He croons to the starry-eyed Grey Mare lying on her side in front of him, her wings fluttering wildly.
>Yeah, that’s gonna take some more time. Time to check on the other two.
>White’s cuddling his mare, working himself into position, but the Emerald-Green Mare seems a little upset for some reason.
>“Scawed, no wike dis way.” She whines, skittering away from White. “Bawk huwts, no wike.”
>…What?
>Oh, right, this one. Emerald-Green, a bit of a struggler at the best of times, and hates the seasonal ‘Baff’ you give them to kill off any mites or external pests they might somehow pick up.
>Tried to jump out of your arms, landed badly, ruptured some disks in her spine. You have some training in handling Fluffy Pony injuries, but that’s almost all focused on desexing the Colts and Fillies and handling cuts and scrapes …
>Huh. Shit. Don’t want to put her down, but if she can’t breed, she’s useless to you. And there’s always more Alicorns that you could snag from another brood to replace her if things get that bad.
>You’re also somewhat worried about letting a Breeding Mare ‘go’ to a good home. Even with Resetting, she might say something incriminating, and the last thing you need is bad publicity.
>Christ knows, with the Bi-Annual Fluffy Pony Hunting Season coming up, there’s enough bad publicity hitting the Breeders as things stand.
>“White haf pwan!” The Stallion says eagerly, rushing over to the Mare and whispering in her ear, and she slowly starts to nod.
>It’s not bloody Karma Sutra here, White, Jump up, thrust, groan, faff off…
>No, actually, okay, you’ll play along. Hell, what can they possibly …
>White lies down, then rolls onto his back, pushing his legs out to the side.
>…Wut?
>Mare climbs on top …
>Yehaaaw, Cowboy!
>Okay, that was mildly disturbing. You didn’t know Alicorns could do that comfortably.
>Pegasus Fluffy Ponies throw an absolute fit if they are left on their backs for a long time. Doesn’t hurt them, they just don’t like their wings being pressed into the ground.
>Finally … yup, Scarlet and Powdered-Blue are just finishing.
>“Eenf! Eenf! Eenf! I wuv-eenf-yuu. I wuv yuu!”
>“Wah! Wah-wah! Waaaaaaaaaaah!”
>Clean up in Aisle 1 …
>Fluffy Alicorns fall over, still locked into position, panting heavily.
>Huh … well, everything seems to be going fine here.
>Leave them for the next two or three hours to go at it some more and ensure every Mare gets pregnant and you come back to wipe everyone down and make sure there’s no fighting or squabbling going on.
>Now comes the part of the job you really wish you could handball to somebody else.
>Training the Foals.
>You’re avoiding Shed 2, because the Brood Mares have only just given birth earlier this week, and they tend to react poorly to their Foals being poked and prodded by anything other than themselves or other Fluffy Mummas.
>And, of fucking course, they didn’t have their foals all at once, but instead over two days. you had to keep checking up on them all through the week, to make sure that there was no shenanigans or jealousy.
>Well, when a Mare gets towards the end of her pregnancy, you add more walls to their Pens, walling them off from each other behind wire mesh walls, so they can see and talk to each other, they just can’t get to each other.
>During ‘Mating’ time, you break up their original ‘pen’ into five equally sized chambers, but during ‘Pregnancy’ time, you rejoin the walls to make one giant enclosure so the Mares are well socialized, only walling them off on the very last week and telling the Mares it’s so they don’t accidentally hurt themselves, and their precious babies.
>Although sometimes, very rarely, a Mare will have her Foals 5 or 6 days early … and that’s a bleeding nightmare and a half.
>There wasn’t any real complications this time, but the constant “When Mamma haf baybehs! Wan mah baybehs now!” from the other expecting ‘Mummas’ drove you up the wall.
>Ask them which babies are theirs, take a digital photo so you can ‘Record’ who was born from which mother and father combination, and then tell the Mares they have beautiful babies.
>Load the Mares up with calcium and sugar rich foods, and stay as far away as you possibly can until the Mares feel ‘bonded’ enough with their Foals to introduce you themselves. If they believe they are the ‘sole’ caregiver for the Foals, there’s generally less squabbling about whose baby is whose.
>Next is Shed 3. Like the others, its relatively small, about 15 meters long and 9 meters wide, with the ‘pen’ taking up a good 12 meters by 7 meters of that space, with plenty of nests for the Mares to keep their distance if they want and the ‘Teaching Grounds’ where you train the Foals to be house-trained and polite, which occupies the rest of the space, along with the supply chest and a small bar-fridge.
>The whole thing is sound-proofed and kept at a steady temperature all year long thanks to fridge.panel insulators lining the insides of the shed and cheap A/C Units. Again, have to keep the Mares from knowing about each other to ensure the Foals don’t stop coming and the Mares don’t get stressed enough that they miscarry.
>All four Mares are cuddling their Foals. Just two weeks old … old enough for the more complex Alicorn brains to have finally matured enough for the training to stick.
>Damn, but they’re cute. Tiny little things are just big enough to need two hands to hold securely, and are just so damn soft and cute and huggable
>NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH, NO, think of your Man Card.
>Mares cheer and wave at you. They know you as the Nice Man who Teach Foals. You’re grateful they don’t remember you as the Man Who Breaks Fluffy Hearts.
>Everyone gets some food before you start. Helps to bring the Fluffies into a more conductive state of mind if their bellies are full, you’ve found.
>Mares get some fresh sweet potato mash, which they absolutely adore. It’s a treat for being such good Mares and not hiding the Foals from you. It’s also full of starch which helps with … other things.
>Their Foals are encouraged to nurse in the meanwhile. A few of the older ones actually recognise you and wave a hoof at you before their Mothers gently push them to the nearest available teat to suckle.
>Take a mental note ofthose ones. If they are displaying that level of adorableness now, they’re sure to be the 'best of the Litters.
>Most of the Foals need no encouragement to have ‘Nummies’, they just giggle and run up to their mothers and suckle happily.
>Grab the necessary tools for the lesson. Shouldn’t take too long, the Alicorns are generally good at getting the hint after only a few attempts.
>Litter tray, plastic hollow ‘Fluffy’, container of brown ‘goop’ from a novelty store.
>Fill the plastic ‘Fluffy’ with the ‘goop’, hide it behind your back and walk over to the Teaching Grounds.
>Eventually, Mares have finished eating and the Foals are done nursing. Mares herd their Foals over to the cold tiles, babbling about “Baybehs learn guud tings! Baybehs nu make not-pretties in beds nu moar!”
>Mares are Cream, Pale-Pink, Burnt-Orange and Dark-Red.
>Foals tend to have coats that are mostly similar to their mothers, although you can see a few white, black and gold coats amongst the crowd. There’s even a pair of pinkish foals with orangish manes. Princess Candences, perhaps?
>Sit down next to the Litter Tray, so you’re closer to eye-level with the Fluffy Alicorns and can keep them focused, without them having to look at both your face up in the air and the Litter Tray down on the ground.
>“Fluffies are Good Fluffies. I am very proud.” You start off with, giving them all a big, happy smile.
>Fluffy Alicorns all cheer and give each other hugs. Their simple joy at your comment makes your heart twinge with guilt to know they’ll be broken up into ones and twos in soon, but for now, they can be happy together as one big pastel-coloured family.
>“Fluffies will Learn to use POOPIE BOX.” you say again, louder, tapping the litter tray with your hand. “Good fluffies use the POOPIE BOX so they don’t leave not-pretties all over the floor.”
>“Baybehs wuse Poopie Box, no make beds wet.” A Mare whispered, poking a Foal with her horn, who makes an unhappy face.
>Ah, and that must be the bed-wetter.
>“Plastic Friend will show you how.” You say, revealing the Plastic Fluffy and ‘walking’ it over to the Litter Tray, then making it ‘walk’ around the tray before squeezing it and making the brown goop come out. “Sea? PLastic Friend has made not-pretties in the POOPIE BOX, and is a Very Good FLuffy.”
>‘Pat’ the Plastic Fluffy and place it back behind you.
>“Does anyone else need to make a not-pretty?” You ask.
>“Mumma does!” The Dark Red Mare pipes up, wending her way through the Fluffy Alicorn Foals. “Mumwa be Vewy good Fwuffy, use Poopie Box!”
>Takes her a few moments to get past the Foals, who keep trying to hug her or play with her, but eventually she scrambles into the LitterTray, squats in a corner and strains.
>Oh God, your eyes!
>Some things Man is just not meant to see.
>Applaud regardless.
>“See, Good Fluffy uses the POOPIE BOX.” You say, patting the Mare on the back without thinking.
>Her eyes light up, and she shuffles over and hugs your side.
>“Wuv yuu!” She cheers, bouncing up and down, utterly estatic to have been patted.
>Other Mares puff out their cheeks, eyes narrow, wings twitch.
>Foals cheer and charge, asking for Hugs. Tsunami of little Fluffy Bodies climbing all over your lap.
>Mares stalk over and wait for their pats. You make it your top priority, tell them they are all Good Fluffies as well. Everyone gets pats, their chins scratched, their chests rubbed.
>Fucking forgot the First Rule of Fluffy Breeding: No touching the Mares unless absolutely necessary.
>At least now that they all got a 'cuddle, the Mares aren’t pissed at Dark Red anymore, just squee-ing over getting ‘hoomin huggies!’.
>Jesus … last thing you need is another Jealousy War…
>You remember back when you still kept the First Generation all together in a single big shed. You were just starting out, only had the one Stallion and three Mares.
>Times were rough, Fluffy Ponies were everywhere, nobody knew what an Alicorn was except for the very rare mutations that caused Unicorns to be born with Wings, and those were made even rarer due to the Fluffy Ponies murdering them at birth.
>Mares went into season randomly, hadn’t figured out how to get them to enter their ‘Heat’, their estrus, together at that stage.
>Stallion was a half-pied queer, you were sure of it. Had to actually, manually perform the actions for them. That was disturbing to say the least
>Then you sold the first litter. Every last Foal got snapped up, and you stared at the pile of money, laughing like a loon.
>Fucking jackpot. Paid off every dollar you spent setting up, and then some!
>The Mare who had just had her Foals taken away, however, was completely depressed, indeed, almost suicidal, without her Foals to cuddle and play with.
>For a week, she didn’t respond to anything you tried, she just kept on staring and staring at the other two Mares, one half-way through her very first pregnancy, the other just about ready to burst.
>Then one night the Second Mare gave birth, and finally, the First Mare showed some life again. She helped the Second Mare clean her young, put them on the Second Mare’s belly to feed, and you thought it was all going to turn out fine. And then you came in the nest morning to chaos.
>Stailion was nowhere to be seen, the Pregnant Mare as in a frenzy, having wedged herself between her bed and the wall and unable to move, babbling about ‘Bad Haggles’ and ‘Meanie Fwuffies’.
>The Foal-less Mare had snuck over for cuddles, and the New Mother, suspecting nothing, had given her friend the comforting Hugs she needed. Her friend no longer had babies, she must have wanted to be near Babies again to remember. Then the Second Mare woke up in the middle of the night to find one of her Foals was missing, as was the First Foal-Less Mare.
>The Foal-less Mare had stolen one of the Foals and was trying to encourage it to nurse from her, but she’d long since stopped producing milk.
>The two Fluffy Alicoms went to war, kicking, biting, tearing out tufts of fluff, shrieking at each other about ‘baybehs’ and ‘bad fwiends’ and ‘mine’.
>Had to separate them by force. Damn near killed each other by the time you realised this just wasn’t some jealous spat.
>The Stallion was, much later, found hiding behind a bag offood, whimpering and sobbing pitifully.
>He’d tried to take the foal back off the First Mare in the middle of the night you worked out from his frightened whimpers, but the First Mare had bitten his wing and dislocated it in the process, terrifying the Stallion who had, up until that point, recieved only a single visit from the broom as a measure of ‘pain’ in his life.
>The two furious Mares spent all day screaming at each other, shooting sparks that fell well short of the target. Scared the hell out of you as well. you never though such small, gentle, loving creatures could muster so much, well, hate.
>They almost litterally, killed each other. Fluffy Ponies. Five years on, it still blows your mind. You’ve seen Ferais Herds tear into each other, but this was a sustained attempt to cause pain and suffering that was almost … Human-like in it’s ferocity.
>The screaming matches and trying to impale each other on their horns every time they were able to get at each other continued on for about a week until you eventually gave up and just separated all three Mares completely.
>All of them cried at this, but soon they got over it. Or rather, you stopped taking shit over it and told them they either stopped fighting or they’d never see each other again.
>Mares were allowed to get together a week later, but the Foal-less First Mare was immediately set upon by the other three Alicorns.
>“Baybeh steawer! Twusted yuu. and yuu steaw baybeh. make baybeh hungwy, make my Baybeh cwy!”
>“Bad Fwuffie gif wing owies, Bad fwuffie, Bad Fwuffie!”
>“Nu wan Bad Fwuffie hewe! Yuu huwt fwiends, twy steaw Baybehs in Fwuffie’s tummeh!”
>She had to be permanently separated from the others to protect her own life, and after that the First Mare basically just ate, slept and lay on her pillow listlessly and watched the television with blank, empty eyes.
>The Stallion mounted her only under duress, and only after you made sure she was tied down with twine around her legs, tail and wings so she couldn’t kick or bite the Stallion. Not that she ever tried to.
>In truth, she was desperate for companionship at this stage, but the Stallion refused to believe she was a friend anymore, to the point you had to apply the straw broom to his ass if he tried to back away from the Mount. Apparently he still feared the ‘sowwy stick’ more than his former friend.
>She gave birth to five very attractive Foals, all Mares, raised the Foals well, but refused to let you come anywhere near them. She’d try to bite your fingers, tried to make the Foals hide from you, even tried ‘burying’ them under the Hay in her little enclosure when they refused to hide from ‘Yummies-Giffin’-Hoomin’.
>A bitter irony, that the first signs of real life and hope she had displayed in over two months was a desperate hatred of everything that was not her Babies.
>Ended up taking her out the back and shooting her because you couldn’t deal with her shit anymore. Trying to handle a over-protective Mother when you were about to take her babies away was litterally driving you into a mental corner.
>First time you had to put a Fluffy down, Alicorn or otherwise, and it was one of the saddest things you’ve ever had to do.
>“Daddy, wut dat long ting?” She had asked, nervously sniffing the muzzle of the old bolt-action gun as you attempted to line the rifle up to the point where her horn grew out of her skull.
>“It’s a . . . magic toy that will make the Other Fluffies like you again. So you don’t have to be so scared about your Babies.” You lied, trying to keep your voice level as you placed the rifle’s muzzle firmly at the base of her horn.
>“Oh! Oh! Wan Pwease! Cobawt suuuu sowwy, onwy nu wan be wonwey nu moar!” She begged, leaning her head against the rifle’s muzzle and sobbing happily. “Miss Fwlendz! Wan pway wit’ dew ‘gain, wan baybehs be happeh an’ pway wit’ otha Fwuffies!”.
>Bong.
>Hand-reared the Foals yourself. Told them that their Mother had gone away on a long trip to the Moon, and that she loved them very much when they asked if she was coming back.
>"Other Alicorns could smell the Mother on them, were always skittish around them, even after you assured them that the ‘Meanie Baybeh steawer’ wasn’t coming back.
>Third Shed … Foals are running around, playing and cheering as some customers walk around the Play-Pen, reaching down occasionally to pat or stroke a Foal.
>Mares watch from the back of the Pen, reclining in their padded ‘Nests’, happy to see their Foals getting played with. Because of your ‘Rules’, physical contact between Fluffy Alicoms and People is kept to a minimum, so this is a wonderful occasion for the Mares.
>Your two employees, Jay and Bob, watch everything, ready to swoop in if a Customer attempts to abuse or steal the Fluffies.
>Jay, a parapalegic, mans the till, has the panic alarm and fields all the questions about living with and caring for Fluffy Alicorns. Good man, you’re glad you gave him the job, it means the world to him to earn a wage that’s not based upon pity for his ‘situation’, and he’s damn good at handling the paperwork, which saves you a hell of a lot of headaches.
>Bob, on the other hand, looks like somebody shaved a gorilla, made it lift small cars one-handed for years, covered it with tattoos and stuffed it into wal-mart clothing. Ex.con, didn’t have much in the way of credentials but fuck it, everyone deserves a second chance. Also the fact he’s willing to damn near murder people if they hurt the Alicorns is a plus. Seriously, the guy doesn’t bat an eyelid at smacking people around, but he so much as makes a fluffy flinch or cry and he just crumbles like a sand-castle.
>You used to have a sign out the front of your small block-cum-breeding station.
>Abusers will be fed to Bob. Survivours get Sorry Poopies from the Fluffies.
>Being held down by a bald king-kong and then being shat upon by animals… ick. You ended up taking it down because the damn Abusers kept on rocking up to take on that challenge, and Bob’s hands were getting pretty mangled.
>You also didn’t want to train the ‘Stock’ to give Sorry Poopies.
>“Take a break guys, I got this.” You say, patting Jay’s shoulder as you walk up behind him to take over the till.
>Bob nods, walks over to Jay, and quietly wheels him away.
>Odd friendship. Bob can barely read, never speaks, but Jay can read and speak five languages.
>A couple comes over and inquires about purchasing an Alicorn.
>Explain that irs best they take two, so the Alicorns have something to play with and also to keep them from getting bored.
>Explain that like all Fluffy Ponies, the Fluffy Alicorns only have, at best the mental prowess of a 3-4 year old child, but unlike their cousins, Fluffy Alicorns have a near-Human capacity to understand Causality.
>Have to explain that that means they can figure things out even relatively (for Fluffy Ponies) complex cause-and-effect reactions on their own. Relate to them incidents of Fluffy Alicorns being able to know how to operate doors on their own as well as several other more humorous occasions of Fluffy Alicorns being too damn smart for their own good.
>Also point out that you have to desex the Alicorns before they can leave the premises, to avoid a repeat of the Global Fluffy Food Shortages of 2020. It’s the Law these days, you can’t just sell any sort of Fluffy Pony without neutering it in some form or other.
>The Couple are happy, they don’t want more Fluffies, just two well behaved ones.
>Point out a Peach-Pink and Cobalt-Blue pair they have been playing with.
>Ah. Child Replacements. Don’t say that out loud though.
>Tell them that’s fine, you’ll have the Fluffies ready to leave in a week. Ask if they want Trained or Untrained.
>Trained, please and thank you.
>Fucking yes. All Fluffies on your Breeding Farm are ‘trained’, simply because its annoying as all hell to train only a few at a time, you just give the ‘untrained’ one a short hug with the Tazer, just enough to make their short-term memories a little fuzzy and they’re ready to go. People think they’re awesome trainers, in truth, the Fluffy Alicorns just gradually ‘remember’ their training.
>Ask them to pick up the foals, take a photo, print them out a copy with the date of purchase and the pickup date on the back.
>Wave them off, stare at the Foals and sigh, rubbing at your face with both hands.
>They are going to good homes, with plenty of good food and love waiting for them. Trained as they are, they’ll hopefully avoid irritating their owners and hopefully lead long and blissfully ignorant lives.
>The Mares will be isolated with their remaining foals, given a small jolt to reset their ‘short term’ memories and told these are all the Foals they have.
>Foals will be isolated, told they are going to a Special Place and comforted as best they can be. Most Foals are happy to be away from their over protective mothers, at least at first …
>Soon, the other Foals of Shed 3 will probably, hopefully, get bought soon as well. Hopefully soon …
> …
>Otherwise they get put down. Horrible work, but its better than letting them build up and build up until the Breeding Farm is overrun with miserable, shit-covered Fluffies and gets closed down by the Health Authorities.
>Fuck that. You’ve seen how some of the other ‘Breeders’ operate. Fuck that noise right in the ass.
>You’re out to make money, sure, and some of your techniques make you feel like you’re lower than a Snake’s ass, even after five years, but it will be a cold day in hell before you resort to stacking the Alicorns in tiny, cramped cages full of lice and shit and disease like living incubators.
>If and when the Foals are all taken, and the ‘zapping’ starts to wear off, the Mares will start to panic and rush around, asking for their Foals, where did they go, when will they be coming back.
>Thats when the Tazer is put away and the Brood Mares get the full Reset process, that basically breaks them back to blank slates, theoretically ‘clearing’ their grey-matter of everything but the instincts hard-wired into them, such as talking including their basic word-sets), breathing, eating, sleeping, pooping, mating and raising offspring.
>Fluffy Mares get a full ten second of electrical current run through their heads, the maximum amount of time you are willing to risk. Horrific process, melts ail the fluff on the sides of their heads, but at least that’s all the damage it does.
>Takes them a week to ‘recover’, in which time they recuperate while watching happy videos and being retaught how to use the Litter Tray and other things. It doesn’t take them that long, really, but you don’t like to rush the Mares … they’ve suffered enough.
>Bob and Jay only manage the ‘store’. You manage the 'grunt work.
>Its your business, your duty, to handle the heartbreaking task of ‘Resetting’. Also Bob and Jay both threw-up when they first witnessed the ‘Re-Set’ process, and Bob nearly took your head off with a hay-maker.
>Don’t blame him for that. You fucking hate Resetting as well. But there’s no other option available.
>Most of the time, the Foals all get bought their gentle natures, cute forms and inquisitive minds endearing them to the customers.
>Only had to put down several foals in three years of operation, before you managed to figure out the best ratio of breeding stock vs buyers market. Its heart-breaking work, but when you released the young, unsellable Colts and Fillies, in direct violation of Federal Law …
>Look away from the Play Pen and out over the fence, through the open door of Shed 3.
>See a Feral Herd standing on the other side of the electrified fence, glaring at the Alicorn Foals of the Fourth Shed playing in the Outdoors Pen, gnashing their teeth and making their horns sputter sparks.
> …
>No animal should have to die like that.
>Not even a Fluffy Pony.