As it turned out, the Smarty died as the other fluffies were eating.
After the garden was replanted, Mason served them a dinner of kibble in the second trough, and refilled the first with water. The fluffies, worked to the point of exhaustion, devoured the food and drink as soon as it was given to them, after which they all filed back into the garage at Mason’s command.
It was only once they were all gone he noticed the Smarty had gone fully limp and motionless. A brief check confirmed the Smarty was dead… but that was no reason to take the body down yet.
The fluffies worked all day long, replanting the kicked-up soil and spitting water onto buried seeds, working right up until the sun began to lower and the sky turned a blazing orange. Many times the fluffies considered stopping working out of tiredness, boredom, or just general unhappiness, but then briefly looked at the coffee-colored fluffy who was still trapped in the leg restraint, or at the Smarty who was still suspended on the wooden cross, and very quickly got back to work.
“Alright. Bedtime.” Mason announced at last. The fluffies, weary and exhausted from the hardest day of work ever done by a fluffy pony, trudged and staggered their way into the garage, flopping down on the hard concrete ground to sleep. They were so tired they didn’t even complain about how uncomfortable it was, they just fell to the ground where they were and that was it.
Mason, satisfied none of them were left outside, promptly closed the door, shutting them in the dark, cold, uncomfortable garage for their first night in the house of the Lord.
The next morning came soon enough, and at the crack of dawn the fluffies were roused from their slumber and marched back out into the yard to continue their work.
At some point during the night a fox seemed to have gotten into the yard, as one of the Smarty’s eyeballs had been ripped out of it’s skull, leaving a gaping dark-red socket in it’s wake. Mason left it as it was, contiuing to leave it as a reminder to all the fluffies for when they worked.
He refilled both troughs with kibble and water, and soon after the fluffies were back at work. Most of the planting was done, so they continued watering the now-planted seeds, while others began engaging in other tasks (under Mason’s guidance). They trudged around the yard until they found stones (mostly by feeling them digging into their delicate little hoofsies), then carried them in their mouths over to the fence surrounding the yard where they spat them out, to form a small wall of their own up against the firm wooden boards.
Others began weeding, locating plants that simply did not belong and tearing them up with their teeth. Some made the foolish choice to then eat them afterwards, which resulted in them promptly vomiting all over the lawn.
“Alright, lunch.” Mason called, walking over to the troughs again. He was just about to start refilling them when, suddenly, he heard something.
“ENF ENF ENF!”
He spun around on his heel, seeing most of the herd tiredly waddling over to the troughs… save for two fluffies, a dark-brown-almost-black male and a dusty blue female, who were busying themselves in the corner of the garden, hiding away up against the fence.
The female was crouching down, and the male was perched on her rear. It didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on.
“ENF ENF ENF!” They squeaked as Mason approached. With arms as fast as lightning, he swooped down and snatched them both up, tearing them apart with enough shock that it caused them both to shit themselves in fear.
“EEP! MUNSTAH!” The mare squealed.
“NU-HU-HU! NU HAB GOOD-FEEWS YET!” The male cried, his tiny dick alarmingly erect as it twitched against his fuzzy belly.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Mason barked at them both.
“Huh-huh-hab speshul-huh-huh-huggies…” The female sobbed.
“Gib back speshul-fwiend!” The male demanded, limbs thrashing. “Wan hab good-feews in no-nos! WAN GOOD-FEEWS!!!”
“You two… were copulating.”
“What ‘kop-yoo-way-tin’?” The female asked.
“DUN CAWE ABOWD DUMMEH WOWD! GIB BACK SPESHUL-FWIEND! SU CWOSE TO HABIN’ GUD-FEEWS!” The male screamed.
“It means fucking. You two were descrating the land of God by daring to defile it and yourselves with sin.”
Both fluffies got scared by that. He’d told them about going to Hell, and that all it took to get there was to commit ‘sins’.
“NU! NU MEAN TO SIN!” The female shrieked, tears pouring from her eyes. “AM GUD FWUFFEH! PWEASE NU SEND TO HEWW!”
“BUH SPESHUL-HUGGIES AM GUD! GUD FINGS CAN NU BE SINS! DAT NU FAIW!”
Mason let go of them both, letting them fall painfully (but ultimately unharmed) onto the hard earth.
“This is the only reminder any of you are going to get.” Mason announced to the rest of the herd. “Sinners who commit acts such as premarital sex and adultery shall go straight to Hell, without a chance of redemption. You shall never see the light of Heaven, nor feel the grace of God’s love.”
The rest of the herd had begun trembling as he spoke, terrified by the concept of Hell.
Mason was pleased.
It was good to know someone still took the faith seriously.
“Buh… buh what do when wan’ hab babbehs?” The female fluffy at his foot asked quietly. Mason glanced down at her.
“You ask me first.” He replied.
“O-otay… uhm, nice mistah, can fwuffeh hab ba-”
“No.”
(Next)