Just Business 2 (by TheHauntedTypewriter)

The sales were good. Not perfect, but good.

Douglas finished filling out the month’s spreadsheet and breathed a pleasant sigh. So far, he was still making good money. Not grand, though; he was at least staying above the line. Helped that operating costs were so low, as he just paid for utilities in his house.

Oh, and for Gabby’s expenses. He never bat an eye at that; anything for his precious lizard.

Still, the big man took a sip of his hot tea and breathed a sigh. The current batch of foals would be ready in at least a week, then he could post them to the site and start getting buyers. He made sure to charge a rate lower than that of a designer fluffy, but still of high price; fifty bucks per foal seemed fair when they were not only house-broken but trained to never want the shit that pissed people off about them. Some were even learning to prefer vegetables and kibble over “sketti”, but he still needed to work on training them to ditch their separation anxiety; Hasbio were real cunts with that one.

He lifted his mug and sauntered out the room, cradling his mug and taking small sips as he reached the saferoom. The foals were asleep in a fluff-pile, with Mary at its center. The sight of the fluffy brought a smirk to Douglas’ lips. Maybe he could train some of the outside fluffies to take her place when she passed. She was one of the few fluffies he ever encountered that truly got on his good side. For now, the big man made his way outside, making sure his house shoes were on tight as he passed through the dew-laden grass to the barn. The door was parted, and his ears were assailed by a chorus of complaints about the bright light. Douglas ignored them.

“Ruddy, outside.” Douglas stepped back. The fluffy in question waddled out, still groggy, yet eager to serve. “Anything to report? No one’s been bad, right?”

“Nu, nu bad fwuffies duwin’ dawk time.” He glanced back to the door a few times. Douglas quickly caught on that something was amiss. “Buh dewe am bad fwuffies.”


“Spwinkwe an’ chewwy. Dey had speshuw huggies duwin’ dawk time. Ebewyone asweep, buh wuddy heawd.” He had to at least give them credit, they picked an ideal time for it. But, with all fluffy plans, they didn’t think them through in the slightest. “Mistah dougwas…nu pit, pwease. Scawy…too scawy…”

He sighed. “We’ve been over this, Ruddy. I can’t throw adult fluffies in there. For some reason, Gabby doesn’t like dealing with adults. Likes ripping faces off but that’s ‘bout it. But,” He sipped his tea. “I know a way to get them. Just keep an eye on them. I’ll be heading into the city for a few hours.” The fluffy nodded and waddled back inside.

Douglas finished off his tea and sighed, stepping over the fence and heading back to the house to get ready. He had a hunch Sprinkle and Cherry were gonna act up; they were both domestics, with Sprinkle bought from a Fluff-Mart, and Cherry being a mere Foal-In-A-Can buy. And he knew damn well neither didn’t bother with training fluffies; if they did, his business wouldn’t exist. So, they needed to be taught a lesson; if he didn’t, the others would take their initiative and do the same, and then he’d be up to his ankles in foals. While good for business, his business worked best with small groups as it ensured no bad eggs slipped through the cracks. Because one bad fluffy could put his business in jeopardy. And, God forbid, if a smarty slipped through the cracks, he’d be finished.

So, a lesson had to be taught. One that would probably traumatize at least one or more fluffies. Had to be done.

Douglas stepped into the Fluff-Mart once more. The place was, as it tended to be in the early afternoon, barren, though there were still the squeals and high-pitched noises from the various fluffies. The noises drove him crazy, but he always tuned them out and put on a bright face when dealing with the workers. After all, they were people; he actually liked them. Fluffies? Well…there was a reason there was no singing at the farm. He broke them of that in the first week.

“Oh, Doug? You’re here early.” And there was Sam. The sales associate worked on unloading a box of goods, restocking the shelf in front of her with cans of high-grade kibble; the stuff that was probably made from unfortunate fluffies. He didn’t judge the system, so long as they kept fluffy meat outta his brisket. “What’s up? Something wrong?”

“Eh, a lil’, Sam.” He began, trying to word things just right. “Had an accident on the farm. A mare got knocked up when she wasn’t supposed to, and now I need a way to…well terminate the tummy babies. Cruel, yes; I’d keep ‘em if I could but…delicate system and all that.”

Sam waved it off. “It’s cool. We get an owner once a week asking for that stuff; lotta mares run off and get pregnant without their owners knowing, then freak when said babies end up here or worse. It’s the next aisle over, in Fluffy Heathcare. Look for Foal-B-Gon. But, if you want something cheaper and less detectable, I’d grab parsley.”

“Parsley?” He raised a brow.

Sam nodded. “For some reason, it instantly terminates any mare’s pregnancy, no matter how far along. Problem is, it takes a lot to actually do it, and as stupid as fluffies are, giving a mare a lotta parsley on her ‘sketti’ will make her cautious. But, tradeoff, they won’t taste it. Most of our Foal-B-Gon supplies are just pills.”

“I think I can make it work. Thanks, Sam. Saved me some money.” He glanced over at the pens, and he pondered shopping for more adults. Maybe next time. “Welp, I’ll head back, then. Gonna stop at the market and grab some goods to make this work.”

“Lemme know how it goes.” With that pleasant visit over, Douglas stepped outside and made his way back to his car. He did have the idea to pick up some more foals, especially fodder to prove a point, but not today. Today’s demonstration was going to be a lot…worse. In all seriousness, Douglas didn’t consider himself a cruel man. Just a practical one.

And sometimes, practicality meant cruelty. Ironic.

Feeding was underway. Douglas watched the fluffies gorge themselves on their kibble, eating it with none of the complaints he usually had to endure when he gave them the dry, almost tasteless food. Some did complain, but a pleading look from Ruddy set them back on track; no one wanted to see a foal get ripped apart in the Pit, after all.

Douglas sipped his evening tea. “Cherry.” The mare perked up and trotted over, eager as ever. Hence her name, she was a bright red color, with a cherry pink mane. Were it not for her shitty deposition, she’d be good for breeding. Maybe if she survived the punishment.

“Hewwo daddeh!” She sang happily. Douglas inhaled a bit from annoyance but brushed it off.

“I heard you decided to have special huggies. Without my permission.” Her joyful expression died, replaced in a flash with fear. The mare began backing away, babbling all sorts of excuses. Douglas sipped his tea. “No no, don’t back away. If anything, I think you need better food for your babies, right?”

“D-dat’s wite…” She whimpered. Douglas held his tea in one hand and set down a Tupperware container, filled with reheated, dollar store spaghetti. Cherry, without a second thought, dug into it, voraciously eating the meal and scarfing it down, accompanied by a chorus of whines and complaints from the other fluffies at the idea of them not getting “sketti”. Good.

“Enjoy your meal?” He asked. Cherry excited nodded. “Good. Now, I want you to take good care of the tummy babies in you. Make sure they come out good and strong. Because, if they don’t,” Douglas’ voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll give you forever sleepies.”

Cherry’s face fell, and her fear returned in full. Douglas smirked and, after collecting the container, left the barn and closed the door behind him. So, Cherry’s terms were set. He wasn’t sure how far along she was, but she was going to miscarry very soon. Mares could always tell when they had foals growing in them, and when the foals were gone, they could tell that even faster. So, all he had to do was wait. Wait and let the matter resolve itself.

For now, he had shows to watch. And reading to catch up on.

The sight before him was…a charming one. It was early in the morning, where the sun had yet to rise over the horizon, and already the barn was awash with activity. Activity that was…well the others reacting to Cherry.

Said mare was in her little nest, crying and sobbing. Blood soaked the straw in the back, telling him the parsley did the trick, and she miscarried in the night. Given her state, she probably woke up to the sight, and didn’t go through the process awake and alert. Naturally, such a thing sent the others into a blind panic, but that rolled perfectly into what he needed to do.

“Well, ain’t this a surprise.” The chaos stopped the moment the fluffies registered his presence, and Cherry went from tear-stricken to absolutely hysteric with fear and sorrow.

“D-DADDEH! IT NU FWUFFY’S FAUWT!!!” She wailed at the top of her lungs, damn near blowing out his eardrums.

“Really? Sure looks like it is.” He mused. “That is what happens when fluffies have special huggies without my permission. The babies die. They don’t even get a chance at life.” He lied through his teeth, but with how stupid fluffies were, they’d never put two and two together. “But, with that said…you broke our agreement, Cherry. You know what that means.” She continued stringing together excuses and babbling apologies, even as he snatched her by her scuff and left the barn. “You’re a bad mother and a bad fluffy, Cherry. What a combo!” He didn’t take her far before dropping her to the grassy ground. He was still in clear view of the barn, and the fluffies bold enough to watch remained transfixed as he brought his boot-clad foot high.

Cherry tried to utter something, but Douglas ignored her and brought his foot down. Again and again. It took one stomp to end her miserable existence, and two more because he felt like it. With the deed done, he sighed and returned to the barn. “So, what have we learned today?”

“N-nu speshuw huggies w-wen mistah dougwas nu say…” A stallion somberly said.

“That’s right! So, let’s not make it a habit. Fluffy blood doesn’t wash out very well.” With that, he left, stepping over Cherry’s mulched body. He knew he was gonna have to clean that shit up, but…later. Whenever he felt like it. He did want to leave it as a reminder, but that was gonna attract vultures. He never dealt with one in person, but he didn’t want to either.

Damn things creeped him out…weird necks…


So what’s Doug gonna do to Sprinkle?


Prob leave alive. The message’s been delivered, so no need to punish him too.


Never trust someone who prefers people to animals.


Wasn’t really a lie about bad things happening when the fluffies have “spweciaw huggies ”. It’s just not a universal truth, only in the barn.