Preface: this story (perhaps an ongoing series, if it gets positive response) is not meant to highlight fluffy abuse,
but rather bad animal breeders in general. IRL these most common of these are called “puppy mills”. Chances are, if you purchased a puppy from a pet store, it came from a puppy mill. There are an estimated 4000 puppy mills currently operating in the U.S. which are responsible for well over a half million puppies born per year.
The difference between puppy mill dogs and puppies bred by reputable breeders (aside from the cost) is that puppy mill dogs are kept in deplorable conditions and are overbred to a point where their puppies develop a variety of mental and physical illness.
Read on if you dare. But remember, most of what you will see here is happening every day. So if you want to get a dog or a cat, go to a reputable breeder (usually listed with the AKC) or go to an adoption center. Puppy mills won’t stop until people cease purchasing from them.
Or, you know… just get a fucking hamster or something.
Fluffy Mill
>you are Mel, ex-Marine, 55 years old. part-time auto mechanic, part-time fluffy breeder
>those liberals and eggheads call your place a “fluffy mill” but what the fuck do they know about real work.
>taking care of these babbling shitheads is real work.
>your wife’s idea. but when they cut your hours at the repair shop, the extra money helped
>people don’t want grown, adult fluffy ponies. they want cute little babies. and when the babies get too big, they get tossed
>then they come back for more babies.
>the circle of life or some shit. heh.
>you split the time with the wife. you work on cars mornings and take care of the shitheads afternoons
>the wife takes care of them in the mornings and does nails in the afternoons. you take turns in the evenings.
>you keep the little shitheads to a stringent schedule. five pegasus, five earth, five unicorn pony mares
>each one gets knocked up. gestation lasts 3 weeks. weaning takes two weeks.
>technically they should be weaned after three weeks, but people want the smaller, cuter fluffies.
>they’ll have to get used to solid food sooner or later. fluffy chow makes youngins crap themselves for a couple of weeks but after that they’re usually fine
>so once a week, every Sunday, you get your three mustangs and have them knock up the female who just weaned their foals
>well, you wean them FOR her. these little bitches would keep their babies for another week if they could
>you’ve gotten lucky with the mares. they usually average four foals.
>then again, mixing a little fertility drug into their food helps. your cousin sneaks you a few pills from the pharmacy he works for
>sometimes you give a little Viagra powder to the mustangs if they’re looking tired. gotta be careful… don’t want a heart attack.
>then you’d have to find another healthy breeding male. and that means walking through the woods for fiften or twenty minutes. you ain’t got time for that nonsense.
>you tell your customers these are high quality breeders. what the fuck do those idiots know.
>
>the cages are very simple. wooden 1 x 4’s as a frame. chicken wire on the front, top, bottom, sides.
>need the chicken wire on the bottom so their god-awful shit and piss drip down to the floor
>then you snow shovel that crap up, mix it with mulch and sell it at the farmer’s market on Saturdays.
>it reeks a bit, but damn if that crap isn’t the best fertilizer you’ve ever seen.
>the chicken wire bother the mares sometimes… it cuts into the bottoms of their feet or their stubby, stupid ass legs get caught in the holes
>fuck ‘em. let God get 'em out.
>only thing you gotta be careful with is the newborn foals.
>when the mares are ready to pop you put a couple of layers of newspaper under them
>even then, when they birth in the middle of the night, there’s the chance the newborn might fall through the gap in the chicken wire
>usually the fall to the concrete kills them but once in a while you find them swimming in their mother’s own crap
>fucking charming. hose the little fucker off. good as new.
>simple wooden door on the back of the cages, allows easy access to the foals.
>usually swap out water and food bowls once every month or so. just pour the stuff through the chicken wire in the front.
>
>it’s Friday. you go to the shed out back and go to each cage with the weaning mares.
>grab a cardboard box with a rag in the bottom. remove the foals from each mare. they whine and complain as usual
>you don’t even bother answering any more.
>if they get really mouthy, you have the Zap Stick.
>the Zap Stick serves several purposes. a modified low-level stun gun, it fits into a plastic stick maybe twelve inches long
>the metal contacts are on one end, a rubber handle and button on the other.
>pretty good design if you do say so yourself.
>aside from simply shocking fluffies that get too uppity, you’ve discovered you can induce labor in mares and cause stallions to ejaculate
>useful.
>the pegasus is getting mouthy. she’s had about ten litters over the last year or so. she should be used to this
>“nuuuuu! no tak babehs! babehs need mamma!”
>her whining is upsetting the others. gotta nip this in the bud.
>give her a shock from the Zap Stick. her body convulses briefly. she collapses on the dirty chicken wire floor
>“Shut your fucking mouth.”
>“muh… muh… mamma… wan babehs…”
>you zap her again, twice as long this time. her frail body has a seizure and she shuts up.
>grab the other mewling foals. at five weeks, their language centers are mostly developed
>“why tak fwom mamma!” “wann nummies!” “wann miwlk nummies!” “wann mamma!” “new fwen pway?”
>ignore.
>dump them into the sink. quick washup to get the piss and shit out of their fluff. blow dry.
>“ahhhhhhhhh! too hawt! huwties! huwties! mammaaaaaa!”
>zap that one. it flies about a foot in the air.
>“ahhhhhhhh!”
>“SHUDDUP!”
>try to finish the others. the last one is complaining about the dryer, too.
>“no wann hawt! no wann! stawp pwease!”
>it’s a pegasus… it flutters its little wings madly at you, puffing out its cheeks
>zap him, too. now it’s laying on its back, its little legs twitching
>“I SAID SHUDDUP!”
>put the foals in the display cage. this one is kept very clean. it’s in the garage of your house.
>you’ll have people coming all weekend to see and hopefully purchase them.
>mix in a couple of crushed sleeping pills in their food. that’ll keep them quiet until tomorrow morning.
>grab the three mustangs: Chocolate, Vanilla, and Berry. An earth pony, pegasus and unicorn, respectively.
>put them in the boxes with the weaned mares. the first two quickly mount the females and impregnate them.
>Berry seems to be having some issues.
>“Get in there.”
>“bewwy no wann… bewwy wan nummies.”
>you roughly put him on top of the mare
>“Give her special hugs. Now.”
>“nuu. dunn wann.”
>you slide the Zap Stick into his asshole. he gasps.
>Give her. Special Hugs. NOW.“
>"uhhhhh… bewwy… bewwy no wann…”
>bzzzt GLURG!
>you shock his asshole. his eyes bug out and his body goes rigid. you guide his little penis inside the mare
>“poopie pwace… poopie pwace huwt…”
>bzzzzt GAKKK!
>you zap him with the stick again. he ejaculates.
>pull the panting mustang from the cage and close it up. throw him back in with the other two males.
>“Don’t you ever tell me you’re not gonna do something.”
>“gakk.”
>hear a commotion coming from P-4’s cage
>no point in naming these whores. easier to use letters and numbers.
>ah, shit… giving birth. she shouldn’t have been due for a couple more days
>grab a piece of newspaper and put it under her just before the first foal finishes popping out
>shove the Zap Stick in her ass and hit the button. she squeals and craps out four more.
>she’s panting from the birth and the Zap Stick but is still cogniscent.
>“whew… whew babehs… wann see babehs…”
>“Yeah, hold your horses, stupid…”
>you grab the foals and put them near her chin. she starts to clean them.
>that should do it for the night. you scoop up some crap and put it in the crap bucket. it’s Miller time…
>“no wann. pbbt!”
>eh?
>the mare has finished licking the babies clean and has four of them taking turns suckling on her teats.
>but the fifth she’s tossed aside. it landed in the food bowl.
>you open her cage.
>“Clean the baby.”
>“nuu. dunn wike babeh. babeh is stupit.”
>“CLEAN. THE. BABY.”
>“NUUU! dunn wike babeh!”
>you jam the Zap Stick in her ass and hit the button. the mare convulses, as do the two chirping foals suckling her teats.
>the mare gags and the foals emit high-pitched squeaks… they sound like injured baby rabbits.
>you hear some of the nearby mothers responding to their distress call.
>“babehs huwty?” “babeh need mamma?” “dunn cwy babeh!”
>“Clean the baby!”
>“nuuu… nuuu wann cwean… babeh baaaaad…”
>you zap her again. she gags once more, a little smoke coming off her fluff
>“CLEAN THE BABY!”
>“nuuuuuuu!”
>you slide the stick in deeper and press the button… this time holding it for several seconds.
>“You gonna clean the baby?”
>“gakkk… gakkk… pwease… no huwty… poopie pwace…”
>“Clean the baby!”
>“pwease dunn wann…”
>you’re seeing red. you grab the smoking mare and throw her to the floor. probably broke a leg or two.
>since the mares can’t move in their cages their legs are even weaker than regular fluffies.
>the two foals that were suckling are still laying on the floor of the cage, twitching from the extended electric shock
>the other two foals cry for their mother. you zap each of them, too.
>grab the runt and hold it up to the mare’s face, alongside the Zap Stick
>“You clean this foal. You feed it. Or you DIE.”
>hit the button on the shock stick. batteries are low but it still makes a spark that’s scary to these idiots
>“owieeeees! owieeeees! weggies huwty! poopie pwace huwty! pwease stawp huwty!”
>you raise one of your big work boots over the mare. she looks up at it in fear.
>“pwease… pwease no mow…”
>bring the boot down, crushing her rear legs. follow suit with the front. she’s screeching in pain now.
>drop to your knees and start beating the hell out of the thing. she’s a bloody pulp in a matter of seconds.
>no matter. one of the weaned shitheads can take her place. it’ll be sexually mature within a couple of weeks.
>have to hand feed the now-motherless foals. no way are you giving up on the runt, though.
>if it survives the next couple of weeks, you can sell it as a “mini-fluffy”.
>for some reason these cunts would rather die than take care of the runts. weird.
>clean up the mess. feed the little shits by hand.
>wife’s gonna be pissed she has to help with them. tell her the mare impaled herself on the chicken wire or something
>you fucking hate these stupid things.