Loving Lilac
By: Turboencabulator
Sam wandered through the unpaired stallions, listening to the conversations between best
friends and the muffled whines and desperate enf sounds of the more wound up stallions, kept in
isolation before they get out of hand. He stopped as one stallion stood up on its hind legs,
forehooves against the wall of the pen, his engorged member swinging in the breeze.
“Mistew Sam? How wong tiww Owiver can hab gud feews?” Oliver asked, making a kind of antsy
dance with his hind legs.
With a grin, Sam gave Oliver a quick ruffle behind the ears. “There’s one fluffy ahead of you
in line, and then it’s your turn with a mare. Once I get him set up I’ll be back today to get
you someone, ok?”
Oliver whinnied and nodded, laying down and squirming a little. Sam watched as Oliver tried to
squeeze his hind legs together and wiggle, making little enf sounds.
“Now Oliver, don’t have fun too soon, or you won’t be able to have good feels in a mare.”
With a whinny and a grumble, Oliver stopped, nodding. “Sowwy Mistew Sam.”
Sam tossed him a treat and moved on, going down the line of waiting stallions. One sat in the
corner, not looking up. There was a long, white sticky trail leading from a cushion to his
groin.
With a sigh, Sam picked the stallion up, looking him in the eye. “This is the second time. What
did I tell you?”
The pegasus fluttered a bit, curling his tail up into his abdomen and kneading it with his
forepaws slowly. “Mistew Sam say if Cuwwy nu can wait fow mawe, den Cuwwy get the needy-enfies box untiw next tuwn.”
With a nod, Sam carried the sandy red stallion along. “That’s right, Curry. I know you’re a
good fluff and it’s hard to wait for good feels. You need to learn to wait though. You’re at
the bottom of the line again, and you’ll wait for your turn in the needy-enfies box. Hopefully
you’ll learn to control yourself.”
After a rinse, Sam dried the stallion off and carried him into a walled-off room. The room was
lit from overhead, spotlights centered over sixteen identical, chest-high enclosures. Each one
was a meter cubed, on a welded steel frame. The back of each enclosure had mounted an array of
small circuit boards, wiring in neat curves and lines, and a reservoir of a cloudy greenish
substance. Dull grey piping came down from the ceiling, carrying water into a filtered
reservoir on the back of each unit.
Away from the enclosures, the room drifted into a grey, concrete twilight, broken only by the
red and gold of the telemetry monitors. Fifteen of the cubes were empty. One was occupied, the
graphs of blood pressure, volume, and neural activity bouncing rapidly as the system executed
its program.
Sam went to cube 0x2 and slid the front up, revealing the interior. Inside was thick with
soundproofing, and what looked like a child’s car seat, leaning back slightly. Curry whinnied
nervously, as Sam set him down, gently feeding his tail through a hole in the seat. Sam
carefully slipped padded straps around Curry’s legs and chest, holding him comfortably
spread-eagled.
“Mistew Sam? Why Cuwwy in howdy-chaiw?”
Sam smiled as he carefully rubbed a bit of novocaine cream into the inside of Curry’s
thigh. “Well this is a special waiting box. It’s going to make sure that when it’s your turn,
you have the best good feels ever. But it needs to make sure you don’t wiggle too much or this
doesn’t work.”
Curry nodded, not even noticing as Sam slipped a butterfly needle into his thigh. A bit of tape
and a connection to an interior port later, and Sam turned back to Curry. “Now, Curry, you’re
going to feel a little weird. It’s ok. Just relax and breathe.”
He could already see the fluffy start to glaze over, his head lolling back against the
headrest. Sam gently secured the fluffy’s head in place with another strap, then turned and
began carefully lubricating an electroconductive probe. This slid gently inside the fluffy’s
anus, and Sam clamped it in place with a mounting arm. A conductive sleeve was slid over the
fluffy’s engorged member, and clipped in place. Finally, a sensor was pressed into the
stallion’s perineum, and Sam stood up.
After a moment of self-reflection, looking down at his handiwork, Sam sighed. “Jesus christ if
people saw this they’d think I was some kind of pervert.”
He slid the door down, sealing the stallion in darkness. After a brief countdown, the readout
for Chamber 0x2 updated.
[New Subject Registered]
[Program selected: Sexual overstimulation]
[Mode: Denial, continuous]
Sam waited. Barely audible was the sounds of fluffy sexual noises, muffled heavily by the
soundproofing. After a moment checking the drugs were topped up, he walked out of the room.
As he passed by Chamber 0x1, he could hear the sounds of screaming and a guttural moaning. They weren’t nearly as muffled.
Sam wandered back, to Oliver. The fluffy was stolidly staring at a TV showing Zoom, making
occasional whining sounds, his eyes glancing over to the door to the breeder mares. After a
minute, Sam picked Oliver up and started walking, heading towards the same door.
Oliver immediately began happily wiggling, singing a little bestest-feels song under his
breath. He stopped as Sam paused in front of the door.
“Oliver, I have a strange question.”
Sam looked down at the stallion, who was nervously shifting in Sam’s hold.
“Do you just want good feels, or do you want a special friend?”
The fluffy stopped moving, except for blinking. “Owiver… owiver wan speciaw fwiend.”
Sam grinned, and nodded. “Ok. I have something different for you, then.”
He turned, going down to a different door, and carrying Oliver out into a hallway. “Every time
a stallion gets a special friend, they need to pick without their no-no stick bothering them. It
makes it hard to focus on finding that really special someone.”
Oliver nodded, squirming a little. “Owiver noticed.”
With a chuckle, Sam continued. “So why don’t we let you uh… really get all your energy out. I
have a bad, bad mare you can have more than just one good feels with.”
Sam carried the stallion into a lab, set aside from the rest. He placed Oliver on a pad and sat
on a stool in front of him. “First, mouth open please?”
Oliver, confused, opened his mouth. Sam took a swab of saliva, and placed it in a small vial of
water. “Alright. Now, this mare was really bad. She tried to hurt me, and wanted to kill
Lightning.”
With a snort, Oliver shifted. “Nu mawe can huwt Witenin ow Mistew Sam. Why dummy mawe twy huwt guud mistew an stawwion?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, Oliver, but she did. She was so horrible her legs ran away, even.”
Oliver gasped quietly. There were legends about fluffies being this bad, but he didn’t think
there would be a fluffy like that here. He listened as Sam continued.
“Then,” he said, “she said such meanie things that her voice stopped. It wouldn’t let her be
that mean. Even some of her fluff ran away, out of shame.”
The stallion was stunned. It was amazing such a bad fluffy could exist.
Sam filled Oliver’s food bowl and hung a water bottle. “Hopefully she can have good babies,
though. So we let every stallion do what they want to her, before they pair off with a special
friend. Maybe the right babies will teach her how to be a good fluffy again. I’m going to go
make sure she’s ready.”
He left Oliver to eat and drink, and let the aphrodisiacs take hold while he prepared for the
show.
CB-1 used to be known as Lilac. She used to be pretty, and used to have good children, except
for the one that turned out to be a monster. Then the monster human took her children, and made
her monster baby strong and clever. He even took her leggies, and her pretty fluff, and her
weapons and voice.
She learned that day that humans could be smarties too, and they were so much meaner than other
fluffy smarties. Monster smarties were a human invention, she believed. Not in such terms, of
course.
She lay in a clinical-white pen, staring at her reflection. He made sure to shave a different
patch every few days, so she never had her pretty fluff fully back. Footsteps and the sound of
a door opening made her tense. The smiling face of the human appeared as the door swung open in
the mirror.
“Hello CB-1. Guess what? It’s time for more babies.”
Watching in the mirror, Sam walked up behind her slowly. She started to shake, feeling the
sickness and nerves start in her. She didn’t want more babies. She didn’t want more enfies that
only hurt. With weak wiggles and muffled, distorted groans she tried as hard as every time
before to escape.
Sam turned her over on her back, standing next to her. She watched, tears welling up as he
began to fill the syringe. She tried mouthing words, but only the dummy sounds would come out.
He laughed a little. “Aw, you want good feels this time?”
She nodded weakly. Anything would be a mercy, the smallest change.
With a hand on her abdomen, he began injecting into her groin, deadened the feeling in her genitals. Not even looking or speaking to her.
She broke down sobbing. She didn’t know how many babies had been taken from her. She couldn’t count high enough to know the number of times she’d given birth.
But she knew it was happening again.
Oliver watched as Sam set a bad, bad mare in his pen. She was probably pretty once, but now she
was a lumpy, patchy mess. No legs, eyes red, and a gummy nose like she’d been crying. But he
could smell something. Something that made his no-no stick throb and his head spin a little.
Sam left the room as Oliver roughly shoved his nose in CB-1’s groin, smelling her sex. She made
a muted whimper. He whinnied and mounted her, enfing loudly.
After spending time sequencing Oliver’s genes, and figuring out which mares he would be optimal
to pair with, Sam poked his head back in the room.
The enfing was unbroken, and CB-1 was sporting a new bloody nose and a swollen eye.
She watched as Sam gave a little sarcastic wave, and left her with her rapist.
A few hours later, Sam came back. CB-1 was unconscious in a pool of her own vomit and
blood. Oliver was sitting nearby, disgusting with blood, semen, and feces from CB-1’s dislodged
evacuation port.
He whinnied, ears flattening. “Mistew Sam, Owiver nu mean make yicky messies. Am sowwy.”
Sam chuckled and pulled on gloves. "Oh you’re fine, Oliver. Accidents happen. Let’s get you
cleaned up and for a nap. Then we can introduce you to some nice mares.
After taking care of Oliver, Sam picked up CB-1 and began to clean her as well. She woke up
slowly, cooing weakly from the warm water.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Wakey wakey, CB-1. I’ve got some news.”
She woke up immediately, shaking.
“You can probably tell. No mummah-feeling.”
Sam was right, she wasn’t going to have babies. A slow, momentary relaxation came over her.
“I decided that it was time to get rid of you. I’m going to be nice though. First, I’m going to
do a little adjustment on you. You won’t notice, don’t worry. Then, I’ll let you have all the
feelings once, before you get to rest. No more forced babies, no more bad enfies after
one final round.”
He lay her on her back on the same surgical pad in her nightmares. Trembling, she watched as he
began to shave her belly. Then, he administered a shot, and the world went grey.
Sam worked quietly, extracting the mare’s ovaries and harvesting the eggs, letting the clusters
of cells organize into chains, in preservation medium, and then into a waiting liquid nitrogen
dewar. After sewing CB-1 up, he waited for her to come around.
She woke up quickly, wiggling, and sore.
“Now, CB-1. Be calm, we’re going to have a little chat.”
She groaned, and whimpered. Sam turned her over so she was laying on her stomach, carefully
putting her sutures on a cooling pad. She winced, but settled in.
He turned on a screen, showing a single cell. “This, little shitpig, is called an ovum.”
A blink, uncomprehending.
“You take this, and some of a stallion’s special enfie juices, and they make a baby. When this
settles in your tummy, that’s when you get the mummah-feeling.”
She looked at the egg cell on the screen. That’s what a little one starts as?
Sam placed down a little marble. “Let’s say this is one. Usually, one cell makes one
fluffy. Sometimes, really rarely, it can make two.”
He tapped on the dewar. “This is a special thing that keeps these ova safe and useable for
making babies. I took yours out and put them in here. So even when you’re gone, I can make more
babies from you.”
She looked at the white and grey container, blinking. He took her babies before she could have
them, which didn’t make sense, because babies need to be in a mother.
“Would you like to know how many babies you could have had?”
She nodded. Sam placed a gallon jar full of marbles in front of her.
She stared at it, then started crying.
“Every one of your babies, the pretty, good, smart babies you were so proud of, they’re never
going to know their real mummah. They’re going to other fluffies, other mummahs. Nobody will
ever know that they’re all yours, except me.”
CB-1 wiggled weakly, trying to get nearer the container.
“Some of them will be made into nummies. Some will be enfie toys for my stallions. Some will be
guards, or have families of their own. None of them will be smarties. I’ll make sure of it.”
A few days later, Sam lightly bumped Lightning. The little cannibal pawed his headphones off,
curious.
“Gunna kill your mom finally. Wanna watch?”
“Ooh yis.”
After picking up Lightning and making some popcorn, they wandered to a pad and seat in front of
a large pen on the floor, a Lexan shield in place.
“Wat de cwear waww fow?” Lightning asked, curious.
“Oh you’ll see.” Sam said, with a grin. After getting Lightning comfortable, he placed CB-1 in
the pen, on a pad. She stared, sad and scared, looking between Lightning and Sam.
“Do you know why I named her CB-1?” Sam asked, with a little devious smile.
Lightning shook his head.
“Cannibal Breeder.”
Sam pulled on heavy welder’s gloves and wandered into the isolation room. After adjusting his
apron and face-shield, he opened 0x1.
Inside was an albino fluffy, bigger than normal, wicked sharp teeth cutting into lips inside a
muzzle. The fluffy struggled as Sam unhooked the VR feed and removed the IV of nutrient
solution, drugs, and steroids. After removing the electrostimulation setup, he pulled the VR
headset off the fluffy.
Its eyes, crazed and rheumy, stared at him. Immediately the fluffy tried to lunge, but the
straps held it in place.
With a firm hand, Sam held its muzzle still, looking it in the eyes. “I know you understand
me. I’m going to take your muzzle off. Be civil.”
It growled, guttural, but stopped trying to get at Sam. He slipped the muzzle off.
The psychotic fluff snapped at Sam’s hand, earning it a slap.
“Don’t even try. I know what you want. Hurties and enfies, right?”
With a loud snarl, the stallion replied. “WAN FUCK. WAN KIWW.”
Sam smiled. “Good. I will give you something to fuck and kill. If you calm down and don’t be
stupid about this.”
It thought for a moment, then growled, settling back.
Holding the fluffy securely by its neck, Sam unstrapped the unstable stallion and placed it in
a carrier. It sat down, breathing heavily, already engorged and poking out from between the
stallion’s forelegs.
Sam carried it out, whistling a jaunty tune.
Lightning watched as Sam placed a carrier in the arena-like pen.
“Lightning, meet your brother.”
He opened the cage and the fluffy streaked out, barreling down on CB-1. He tried to mount, but
finding CB-1’s labia sewn shut, he screeched and sank his teeth in, ripping it out whole.
CB-1 finally screamed like she had a voice again, eyes rolling up in her head. The insane
fluffy ramming his member in the freshly created hole and vigorously pounding away, biting and
tearing at CB-1’s back and ears, making psychotic laughing enf noises.
Lightning stared at the spectacle. “Dis is fwuffed up.” He said, before munching on some
popcorn.
“SHUT UP” The fluffy screamed, and pulled out, kicking CB-1 on her back violently and tearing
out her throat. Her screeching was replaced with a mute gurgling sound, and the stallion
mounted her again, pounding down her throat and inside her ribcage while he viciously tore at
her abdomen, gorging himself on her intestines.
After a short moment, it arched and surged forwards in a thrust, ejaculate spurting out the
hole in CB-1’s abdomen. “GUUUD FEEWS” the stallion shouted, before rolling his eyes up and
falling to the side, blood trickling from its snout.
Sam stepped in and checked. “Huh. Fucked until he had a heart attack.”
“Cwazy bwudder died doin wut he wuved. I fink.” Lightning said, shaking his head softly.
“Yeah, well, I have a few thousand more chances to get one that isn’t psychotic.”
Lightning looked around. “So, wut nao?”
“Spaceballs?”
“Wut?”
“… oh gross it bit off the tip of its own penis.”