Tv is playing in the background. A News broadcast on how earlier this week there was a break in at Hasbio labs. The millions of dollars in property missing, the vandalised labs, computers, machines. The distinctive “TAGGING” on every other wall of a violent protest group associated with PETA. And how PETA is now claiming no ties to said group.
The thunder roars, you would think this was Armageddon from the sounds and violent flashes of light. To a very distinct few, lying on the several piles of cloths strewn about the room, this would not be the case. If anything, this was heaven compared to the abysmal hell they had been living up to that point. Several are covered in bandages, some from head to toe. Some whimpering from the night terrors still, of all the cruel games their gods in white robes would play with them. The rain patters on the roof and windows heavily as hail on this rainy night in Rhode Island. But they are now comforted by warmth of central heating and soft clothes and linens beneath them. A sharp piercing noise breaks them from their secure and sound sleep. As one of their own lifts their head shrieking, tears running down her cotton fluff.
“BIGGES POOPIE!!! MUMMAH HUWWY! BEE THWEE FIFF FIFF NU WANNA SPOLDE!!! HUWWY! HUWWY!!!”
A figure in the next room jumps up from the desk covered in what looks to be lights and monitors from the Star Trek Enterprise. She runs over to the sobbing ball of faux like fur. She jabs a needle into the flailing crying creature. The creature goes limp. And the figure pulls out a scalpel.
“Thank God yours will be the last generation I have to do this for…” She begins her incision.
You wake up much later, you don’t know how much but the sun is out now. The rain is drying. You hear some heart fluttering chirps, as birds happily play about outside the window sill. No! Not the birds. These peeps are different somehow. You scarcely heard them before as you and the others never were allowed to see or be near your young. You remember the few unfortunate times your party had mothers give birth in a massive burst of entrails and blood. Those lumps that survived had to be cared for by those who lost their young in the bad place, but you never look at them or heard their cries. It was too painful. You remember how you first started seeing females taken away. They’d be gone for a short time but when they came back they where wailing hysterically. Crying over their specul pwace huwties. In time their bellies got big. They seemed happy about their misshapen physique but you would go queasy as their bloated innards would move and jiggle as though a parasite lay in wait under their skin. Then the day came. They would bloat so big their limbs would no longer touch the ground. They’d be taken into another room and never brought back.
But that one time, ohhhhhh that ONE TIME! The white robes gods came too late. You saw what became of the mare’s. A blue mare with a purple mane, started crying out in agony. Something about “bigges poopies!” Whined as her specul place quakes and expanded. Her bowels release as well as her urine. Her eyes bloodied and veiny, and looked as they were bulging out of her skull. Her body swells bigger and bigger. One final God awful shriek let’s out as she explodes in her cage. The blood and part of her intestines hits you in the face, those squirming squeeling parasites reveling in her remains. Making that God awful sound that haunts you to today. The doctors scurried in and took them away. A cleaning crew comes in and hoses down everything in sight including you.
“That should be the last of it… We gotta find a better way to do this man. No kids gonna want to buy a pet that explodes in terror and pain upon giving birth. We’ll traumatize a whole generation!”
The one guy in the hazmat suit looks to the other,
“We’re already dealing with it man… The next batch has had real good results. Hardly any explode, and of those who didn’t, the survival rates are reaching 50% on mother and foals!”
“YEAH… But any plans what to do with the rest of these betas? Why keep impregnating them if your just gonna kill them?!”
The other guy puts his finger to where his mouth should be. The first guy huffs,
“C’mon man! They don’t understand these words! They say “for evah sweepies” and $hit…”
Yourself and the others start to rattle in your cages as you make the connection. Take away mare, give specul pwace huwties, come back, belly grows, wiggles, then forever sleepies. You all start crying out and begging the white and yellow gods to not give you “belly wiggles and spoldie fo’ Ebba sweepies!!!” They laugh at you mockingly then leave the room only to be yelled at by the white gods.
Days go on, and death after death before the gods decide to take a different approach. They were losing too much money and too many mares. It all became too costly, so now that THEY had something to lose, they decide to do things differently.
Now you see big belly mares coming back emptied out. All but two lumps near their specul place. After a while those lumps become veiny and huge. Some pop. Some become infected. They soon die anyways, this time from the lump hurties.
Once again, the white gods change things up. They now put hurty cups from a bad suckie machine on the lumps. White stuff comes out and you’re puzzled. But the mares get to live.
One day, you see her! A white goddess with white hair and large mirror eyes. She comes back in the room with a strange little tuft of fluff. It’s orange or pink, you can’t tell. But she goes up to one of the mares waiting for the hurty pump. You notice the noise it’s making. IT’S A HURTY LUMP! OH NO! WHATS SHE DOING!?!?
She puts it on the mare. Directly on her lump. She screams at first thinking it’s a hurty cup. But then she coos softly. Two other white gods follow in behind her.
“We give these things tits for a reason boys. You’re wasting money on pumps and resources, and the subjects still die anyways from depression. Sometimes the simplest solution is the best.”
As the white goddess holds the lump and strokes the mare.
“WE KNOW THAT KELLER! BUT WE DON’T WANT THESE THINGS GETTING ATTACHED IF WE-*”
She swings back her free hand holding up a finger.
“Imma stop you right there! Mostly because you’re boring but mainly because you’re stupid! You males have no understanding about how biology works especially in females, which is why I was called in to begin with. You were costing the company millions in deaths and lost product. I’m here to save that. My way of doing things cut costs and expenses in half if not more… Now run along, let momma deal with this!”
We’re not supposed to let them get attat-*"
“Du-du- DUT!!!” She bursts over him.
“We really need to asse-*”
“SHUUUUUU!!! MOVE ALONG NOW I GOT THIS!!!”
Heads hung low like a kicked puppy, both male gods leave the room. You reach out your tiny hoof. She looks towards you.
“Hoo am yu?!”
She smiles slyly,
“Dr.Keller…”
You rub your little hoovsie on her soft white robe. Oh say the one thing you recall that another kind God told you once and it made you feel forever happies. Before they made him go bye-byes like those other mares,
“Good girl, nice girl… I’m so proud…”
She chuckles slightly, you look back not understanding. You wanted a smile, but don’t expect that reaction.
“You too lil’ Bess!”
“Fwuffy name am nu Bess… Fwuffy am Bee-Thwee- fiff- fiff…”
She looks again.
“Oh! I read it wrong, damn this dyslexia… Imma call you Bess anyways… Just till I can think of something better…”
Your belly hurts as you roll off the big pile of linens you were place on. You see why you hurt. There’s a slit in your belly and some stitching over it. You see you are no longer bloaty and your lumps near your specul place are swollen and hurt. Leaking white stuff. You waddle closer to the chirps. The white robed goddess kneels over the wriggling little masses. The belly parasites. You know by now what must be done. You take the two strongest prettiest ones and pull them to your lumps. You chuckle,
“It tickles docker kewwer… Nu am wike huwty pumps?!”
She smile her sweet pensive smile upon you.
“No my love… No hurty pumps. No spolsions, no hurties or forever sleepies ever again…”
You smile down at them, you notice a third one. Colored like boo-boo juice. Small, wings deformed but horn is… Ok… I guess. You hate the color of boo-boo juice. It reminds you of the blue purple mare. You sneer at it. The benevolent goddess frowns slightly.
“What about this one B355?!” The small furball peeps angry and demanding.
“No wike boo-boo babbeh! Dey kiww Bessie fren!!! Nu wook pwetty wike udda babbehs…”
The goddess smiles upon you and picks up the angry chirping mess.
“Now bessy, I thought I taught you better than that… All babbehs are hurty babies. But it doesn’t mean they don’t need love!”
She moves the black alicorn colt off your left teat and replaces it with the dangerously small and malnourished red one. You wiggle it off.
“Nuuuuuu!!! Da boo-boo juice babbeh… Is wed wike bad boo-boo juice! Nu wan! Es… Es… Es… Es POOOPIES!!!” you whine.
Not understanding what an all powerful and omniscient being could be thinking. Can’t someone so wise and strong understand a bad babbeh when they see it?!
“Now Bessy! I’ll have none of that! Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?! She’s your babbeh just like the other two… Don’t you love all your babbehs?! Like I love you?!”
You take a moment to think. Fair is fair after all. And the goddess does love all her babbehs. You look again to your teat as the tiny creature thrashes around angrily looking for the nip, crying and upset. You’re reminded of the angry thrashing parasites that ripped your friend to shreds. Those final moments of fear and pain.
“NU!!! IT AM MUNSTAH! AWW BOO-BOO BABBEHS AM MUNSTA!!! NU WAN! NU WIKE!!!”
The goddess for the first time looks at you in anger. You gulp.
“Now bessy… Many people say that about you and you species… And I wouldn’t let them. They said they wouldn’t care for you, wouldn’t feed you and would never love you… How would you feel if I acted towards you as they did?!”
You took a moment, “nu gud…”
“And how would you feel if I treated you how you treat your baby?! If I treated all fluffies that way?!”
You gulp again, “N-nu pwetty…”
“So now explain to me… Why I should treat you better than other doctors would if you won’t even treat your own babbehs this way?!”
You start to sob, “NU mean tu be meanie wike udda dockers… Nu wan be bad fwuffy I bad Mummah!”
She slaps the now slowed from weakness foal back down on your teat. You place your little gold hoovsies on her and coo. Weeping you sing the Mummah song you learned from Keller.
“Sowwy babbeh… Mummah was meanie… Mummah know… yu nu know yu babbehs kiww mummahs when bown… Mummah sowwy…” You continue to hum.
Keller smiles again.
“At least you learn faster than some of the other mares. I hope this isn’t a trend… No child should have to deal with being unloved by their own mother… Not like I was… And don’t worry about your babbehs having spoldies in giving birth. We fixed that problem in the next gen. All the same… Probably good I tied your tubes after this… Now at least Sombra won’t have to worry about his mate dying from pregnancy…”
You coo and hum till all babbehs are fed properly. You look up at Mummah proudly looking down on you. Your eyes feel heavy, as she hums you to sleep as well.
The red foal kicks and squirms her way into the best part of your fluff. Kicking both sister and brother to get the best spot.
Keller smiles and replaces the tiny foals.
“You’re gonna be a little hellion aren’t you!? Red ones usually are… Good luck with this one bessy… She may be a runt but she’s just full of crazy!”