Mandy MacFeely and the tower of babbling (Poopiest_of_bebbehs)

Mandy donned the white coat and her scrubs for the first time in an age. she put on her name tag and smiled ear to ear in the mirror. finally, she could stop sucking on the rotten, pus filled teat of unemployment. her name tag was a bright yellow rectangle with little illustrations of happy, dancing, smiling fluffies all across it. her name was in a gross and cutesy font, and her position as onsite veterinarian was emblazoned proudly under her ID number and her accompanying picture.

She still didn’t have a car and had to sell her bike last month to pay off some of her debt from college and afford to eat, but luckily her new boss, Mr. Deacon had offered her a ride to and from work in their email communications, that would cover her for the next few weeks until she can buy a new bike. a pretty stand up offer and it’s not like Mandy could refuse for any alternative.

the doorbell rang and Frankie (her pet fluffy, experiment and personal stitching dummy) lumbered over to the door, ready to meet a new friend.

“it’s open, come in!” Mandy called out from the kitchen, using the mirrored surface of the fridge door to help apply her mascara. the door opened and there was a scream, not a fluffy’s, but a man’s.

Mandy ran to the door and expected to see her new boss, tripped arse over tit, or maybe nursing a stubbed toe, but no, he was just kneeling next to Frankie, who was seizing from the excitement of it all.

“hehehehe boo, Fwankie du a scawy!” he said after getting up from the floor and wiping the foam from his muzzle with his hoof.

Mandy took a sigh of relief, “oh thank fuck, it’s just another seizure” she said before kneeling to pet the little abomination. then she looked up to see her boss for the first time.

“fucking Derek? ‘Dirty Derek’ from secondary school?” she said with shock. “christ, haven’t heard that name in yonks…” he replied with genuine embarrassment.

Derek was tall and thin, despite being only 28 years old he was already greying throughout his once light brown, slicked back hair (a Deacon family trait). his octagonal shaped glasses were expensive, like his tucked in shirt, his tie, his slacks and Italian shoes, all of them black with the exception of the tie, it was a very prominent magenta with the silver Deacon family pin in the middle (a horseshoe in front of a cross made from a wood axe coming from one side and a pitchfork overlapping at the other).

They hopped into his Bentley and drove most of the way without so much as a peep, that was until Mandy took the plunge and spoke first.

“Sorry for calling you ‘Dirty Derek’…” she said before taking an audibly large breath, “its just, you know, I haven’t seen you since I transferred. The last I saw of you, you were still that feral little boy with messy hair, running around with a mud stained school shirt, pulling up girl’s skirts in the playground, making chlorine gas in the chemistry lab… you know, the contrast I’m seeing here is pretty drastic” she clarified while trying her best not to offend.

Derek chuckled a bit to help cut the tension. “no, I get it, I was a little shit… you’d be surprised what a hand full of pills and some therapy can fix though…” he said awkwardly before clearing his throat. “hey, remember what they used to call you?” he asked.

“don’t you fucki-” Mandy attempted to exclaim before being swiftly cut off.

“-firecrotch” he chuckled.

“yeah… that’s the one…” she seethed through gritted teeth, her arms crossed in visible annoyance.

when they got to Deacon farms, out on the edge of his family’s private farmland, she was taken back by the view, the first thing she noticed was the tall towers on all four corners of the building, which was in itself a very modified warehouse. above the entrance was the name of the place, coloured in the same neon magenta as Derek’s tie and baring the image of a happy fluffy mummah trotting along with three bebbehs dancing joyously upon her back.

“ready to meet the inmates?” Derek said with a sly smile.

“inmates?” Mandy inquired.

“yeah, well before father started breeding fluffies, he was in the prison business. it was good cash until human rights laws got tougher, couldn’t cut corners like he used to, so he shifted his attention back to where the Deacon family got their fortune to begin with, rearing livestock” he said as he signed them both in at reception and walked her through into the main hall.

the main hall was set up to allow ease of access to the units. Derek explained that all ten units on the west wing were stallion blocks, set up like rows in a prison and the mothers and infants had the ten units to the east wing set up as traditional pens. North wing the infirmary and medical care unit (where Mandy’s office was located). south wing was the reception, accounting and security.

“and the towers?” Mandy interrupted, “you can’t just show those at the front gate and keep a girl guessing” she added.

“two of them are where we make the slurry feed that becomes kibble, most of it gets sold to owners, farms and shelters while we keep a portion for our own stock, and the other two are where we create fertilizer for the crops” Derek said as if it were just another boring fixture to the building. altogether there were about ten thousand fluffies in the building.

“christ alive, you must have a massive staff to handle the misbehaving little rats?” Mandy asked while looking at the population stats on the clipboard.

“nope, only around twenty people in here, including us two. we’ve got three security guards at the cameras, two doing the rounds at night, five nurses in the east wing and two in the west wing, and three disciplinaries on standby, but we rarely if ever need them”, Derek smiled confidently.

“what… how?” Mandy stood in shock.

“we have our fluffies on something of an honour system” Derek said proudly, “they understand the privileges they have, from cages that automatically open in the morning for breakfast and close for the night, from the ability to schmooze about and use the toys, mini treadmills, fluffy appropriate television and feed stations available, or even just the basic freedom of not being made to feel like the horrid rodents they actually are”.

Mandy was utterly confused and scratched her scalp through her curly scarlet locks. “ok but who enforces the good behaviour?” she asked.

“they do” Derek said with a matter of fact tone before pulling out his phone and showing her footage of a security camera from a few days ago.

the video was dreadful, a gang of stallions gathered around a chirping and wheezing smarty, his horn was shattered like glass, leaving just a bleeding nub, his legs had been viciously broken in every direction but straight, his anus was agape and oozing with shit, blood and copious amounts of semen, and his torn off genitals were stuffed into his own freshly de-toothed mouth.

“enf widdle stawwions wiww yew? dat nu hoew fwuffy du tings hewe, yew am nu smawty, yew jus widdle mawe naow! dummeh nu-smawty duin stupid ting, mayk awwww udda stawwians be in big twobew, nu can hab dat! SIWS NU WET HAB ENFIES WID MAWES CUS OB DUMMEH!” the gang leader roared before stomping down hard onto the smarty’s sobbing face until the ground ran red. The leader then trotted over to press a big red glowing button in the middle of the row. the camera cut to the same stallion from another angle and soon enough a staff member came by.

“hewwo madam, hab a smawty hewe twin tu be bad, twy an enf cowts bu fwuffies deaw wiv, pwase nu tayk pwivawageez way, wan be daddeh suuuuuu muchies!” he begged with the fear of god inside of him.

“you did good by calling me, 33-323. Nobody will be punished until I review the footage and see if you’re lying… but remember, humans have magic sky eyes, we can always see what you’re doing” the staff member made sure to repeat the indoctrination before scooping up the sodomised and crippled remains of the smarty and walking out of sight.

“see? did you also hear what he said? we indoctrinate them as soon as we can to call us ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’. It helps them understand that they are always a tantrum away from losing everything, that we hold the power at all times and are always aware, that’s the kind of paranoia that breeds obsessive obedience. father used this method when he ran jails, he got the idea from reading Orwell… worked then, works now” Derek said confidently.

“that’s impressive, but I have one question, where do you send the bitch mares? And don’t bullshit me about you not having any, we both know that it’d be impossible to have this many with not at least a few hundred per generation” Mandy said with a squint.

“true but we make good use of them too, yes we milk bag, blind, de-tongue and pillow a few of them when we run low on formula but it’s not a massive concern. The mares have an honour system going as well” Derek said assuredly, “they’ll more than happily rat each other out to staff for more food rations, you know, so they can produce more milk”.

“you didn’t answer where they went afterwards though or where the non-milk bagged bitch mares go” Mandy fired back with a raised eyebrow.

“you’ll see, it’s pretty snazzy” he almost giggled while he guided her to what would be her office.

Mandy had a nice set up, an operating theatre, a fluffy sized MRI and all the gadgets and tools necessary to keep these little mutants alive and in perfect health. she was made aware that when she wasn’t busy with anything medical related she may need to help perform assistance where needed, but her medical duties came first. so for the rest of the day Mandy would help where and when it was necessary. a few feedings here and a few dead smarties to scoop up there but otherwise a very uneventful first day. that was until she was giving antibiotics to a mare in east wing and the mare sharing a pen with her began howling for sketties.

“WAN SKETTIES TU MAYK BESTEST MIWKIES, DUMMEH HOOMINS! NU WAN CAWW DUMMEHS ‘SIW’ AN ‘MADAM’ ANEH-MOWE! AN WAN PEN AWEEEE TU SEWF, WASBEWWY DESERB PEN FOW MAKIN DA PWETTIEST BEBBEHS, WAN SKETTIES FOW MIWKIES NOW NOW NOW NOW NOWWWWW!” she writhed and kicked until she fell over and crushed her best looking foal. Mandy rolled the fat bitch over and sure as shit, there it was, a golden pearlescent unicorn foal with a midnight blue mane that almost glittered in the light.

“Fookin’ 'ell, boss gon throw a wobbler when he sees 30k down the shitta!” one of the nurses declared before picking raspberry up by scruff and flipping a coin high into the air. “what’ll it be fer you, eh?” she said as it landed in her open hand, the up-facing side being an ‘X’. “well, ya like havin’ babies? don’ you worry, yer gonna have all the fookin babies ya lil black heart could want” the nurse said with a shit eating grin. “oi, ‘Mandy’, was it? wanna come see one of the slurry towers?” she asked.

Mandy followed the nurse and chatted as they walked to the east wing slurry tower while raspberry cried and screamed and pissed herself in mortal terror. the young, sporty looking tomboy introduced herself as Billie and explained that to keep good behaviour at its peak, they would often spread rumours amongst the fluffies in both west and east wing about the towers, the truth was pretty grim but if there is one thing fluffies feared more than anything, it’s the fear of what they don’t understand and having no frame of reference for. So with a few rumours they had created something of a bogeyman amongst themselves, and Raspberry’s hyperventilating and flailing hooves was proof of its staying power in their tiny minds. when they finally got to the tower, Billie opened the door and motioned for Mandy to enter with a playful “ladies first”.

inside the tower was an industrial grinder filled to the brim with foals, all dead at the bottom with a few writhing on top, alive, just barely. they landed into the iron jaws of doom from a very wide tube made of reinforced glass that travelled nearly to the ceiling. the walls of the tower were completely covered in small cages and inside were harnessed and legless mares in varying stages of pregnancy, who cried and whimpered as their foals fell from their bodies, clenching and fighting as if to stop them from coming and meeting their fate, then Mandy noticed why. their chirpies would fall through the hole placed exactly under their mother’s rear and down the slide, directly into the main glass tube to add to the pile.

“look at that, it’s time to hit the button!” Billie said loud enough for all the mares to hear. as soon as they heard those words they all began wriggling in desperation and rage, others in fear and the older ones who had been there a while and seen this play out a thousand times just bowed their heads and cried even more as Billie hit the button and the blender activated.

the mothers babbled and screamed as their progeny was eviscerated and pulped into a thick and grey sludge that would be further processed into basic quality kibble… but not for these mares, they received it raw. the tubes down their throats were all connected to the lower chamber, that was designed in such a way to pump a good portion of it up into their food cannister that would release some three times a day on the clock as programmed.

Mandy watched Billie strap Raspberry in place in cage #261, break and dislocate her legs and then inseminate her with a syringe.

“welcome tah hell” Billie coo’d softly as she shoved the feeding tube into the mare’s mouth and a waste collection tube inter her anus, she then wrote something on the board connected to Raspberry’s cage door, the note said “pillowing scheduled in 1 days time :)”.

when Mandy got home after a long day she curled up on the sofa with Frankie and relaxed. she felt that old hugboxer inside of her fight to break free when she saw that tower of horrors. she thought about that sign and what she’d have to do tomorrow to that mare and for the briefest of moments she felt like dirt. But then she remembered Raspberry, how as she was strapped into her harness she glared at Mandy, not through her, or by her, but at her, the same fucking glare she got from Strawberry a year prior. the taste of fluffy shit came back to her mind from that day and she immediately smiled at the horror show to come tomorrow, almost looking excited.

“I don’t make the same mistake twice”, she thought before drifting off.

<<<previous

next>>>

(Derek Deacon’s side story)

21 Likes

I hope you all enjoy the third installment in Mandy’s story.

I don’t really like this chapter, it felt very derivative from my perspective as the author, but I hope that you like it regardless. I’ll make it up to you guys with something stronger in the future, pinky promise.

P.S: yes that is the same Derek from the Misty Q&A. 90% of my posts are all part of my ever expanding Poopieverse, you know, unless I say otherwise.

5 Likes

This is absolutely tweaked, and I love it. Raspberry is a little bitch.

What happens if one of the tower pillows has a valuable foal?

2 Likes

In my canon, bitch mare syndrome and smarty syndrome are 70% down to genetics. A high quality foal with these syndromes would put a black stain on the farm’s reputation if they sold one to a high class buyer. In a way, it’s probably a good thing that Raspberry did show her true colours sooner rather than later.

Nobody wants a bratty fluffy, no matter how pretty.

3 Likes

That makes sense. Even the prettiest fluffy is worthless if its attitude is monstrous.

3 Likes

Beautiful, simply beautiful

2 Likes

I see you’ve started reading my Mandy MacFeely stuff. I think you’ll like it, it’s definitely far more in the abusebox category when compared to poopie smarty, which is more of a mixed bag with a strong emphasis on weirdbox.

1 Like