There’s a fluffy mill in the city of Portland, one of about four in this city and the hundreds across the continental United States. It’s of modest size, houses about two hundred broodmares at any one time, and supplies between one to two hundred foals to local pet stores every month. It’s perfectly average in every way, including the treatment of the fluffies inside. The broodmares have a small cage to spend their lives in, where they endure the cycle of insemination, pregnancy, and forced separation from their foals.
One such mare, red with an orange mane and tail designated LA-105, lies curled on the gnarled and filthy blanket given to her as a bed. She tries to sleep, but her neighbours keep her up. Some are new arrivals who beg a former owner or a long lost special friend for rescue. Others have given birth, and cry in the knowledge that come morning their precious foals will be torn from their grasp. Others cry for it’s own sake.
LA-105’s life didn’t have to be like this; she had good colours and temperament, was well behaved and very affectionate. She was by all metrics the perfect fluffy, but she would learn that you can put your ships in all the right spots, and still lose. When she was only a hair over 3 weeks old, she and three dozen other foals were delivered to a local Fluff-World store on a Sunday afternoon. She and the others took pride of place in the new foal pen in the middle of the store, and eagerly awaited a new owner.
The shop opened it’s doors on Monday, and dozens of people shuffled through. Some made their choice between a foal, a grown fluffy, or something in between. Other bought food and toys for their pets, and one or two asked the staff if they could “see the catalogue.”
LA-105 couldn’t have known, but this day would be the closest she would come to a new home.
‘Aww, you’re so cute!’
‘Hehehe babbeh wub scwatchies! Cheep!’ The filly cooed at the young girl’s touch, and hugged her arm with her stubby legs. ‘Babbeh be bestest babbeh fow nyu Mummah!’ The filly and the girl imagined the fun and adventures they would have together, but the universe interfered.
‘Honey,’ The girl’s mother put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know you like her, but your brother doesn’t like that colour.’ That was an understatement; the little girl’s brother had severe Hemophobia that crossed into Erythrophobia. The sight of blood, or even the colour red, would send the boy into massive panic attacks. The last episode was so bad he attempted to jump out a 3rd story window.
‘But mom-’
‘Lucy, there are plenty of foals just as good as that one.’
‘Sigh okay.’
The girl put the little fluffy back. The foal’s elation turned to confusion, then heartbreak when the girl picked up a green and blue unicorn. ‘I’m sorry.’ The girl said to the filly, then turned to walk away.
‘Nu, nu!’ The foal waddled to the side of the pen. ‘Nyu Mummah! Pwease cum back nyu Mummah!! Nu weave babbeh!!!’ The filly’s cries fell on deaf ears, and the girl and her mother walked off with the other fluffy. ‘Uuuhuhuhuhu!’ She sobbed. ‘Huuhuhuhu wai nyu Mummah gu way!!? Babbeh wan Mummah huhuhu!’
‘Shut up idiot,’ a nearby worker hissed. ‘No one buys sad foals.’
LA-105 forced herself to stop crying, but spent the rest of the day near the pen’s bed. The next day she put on a brave face and did her best to catch the attention of the customers, but it didn’t work. The week rolled by, and her time in the new foal pen came to an end; in all that time, no one paid her much attention. To make way for the next shipment, the workers moved her and the handful of other unlucky foals into the other pens. It was by no means the end, plenty of foals got sold from these pens. But not her.
Days passed and LA-105 did her best, but no-one took an interest in her. She faced every new day and customer with a brave face, but at night when the store was closed she cried her eyes out. Part of her still hoped the little girl would come back. The filly aged and outgrew her cute foal stage, statistically the best chance a fluffy from a store had. People still bought adults fluffies, but at nowhere near the same rate.
The weeks became months, and the filly remained unsold. The staff wondered how she had gone so long without being sold, but they didn’t care enough to turn a customer her way. They’d seen 100s of fluffies come through their store who never found a home, why care now? The filly, now on the cusp of adulthood, went from pen to pen and soon enough she was in one by herself, and had to deal with the pain alone. She was miserable, but it was about to get worse.
Three and a half months passed since LA-105 arrived at the store; her time was up. On her last afternoon there, a worker came and pulled her from the pen.
‘Gasp Du fwuffy hav nyu Mummah nao nice mistah? Nyu housie an Mummah an Daddeh?!’
‘Something like that,’ the man stuffed the mare in a pet carrier and took her to the cargo dock. She shivered with anticipation, eager to meet her new family. Instead, she got a silent delivery driver. He picked up the carrier and put it in the back of his van with a dozen other fluffies. They had a couple of common traits; they’d gone unsold from the stores they were delivered to, and they were mares.
To re-coop their investment, the stores sold them on to one of the local mills, who always needed replacements for exhausted “production units.” Only mares ended up in this situation; given it was theoretically possible to operate a mill with one stud, male fluffies sim weren’t in the same demand. In addition, most were worthless as they’d been gelded before they left the mill. So what happened to them?
Zip
HWURK
Standard procedure was to fasten a zip tie around their neck and leave them to suffocate and choke to death in a bio-waste bin. Brutal, but far more humane than the life their sisters had to look forward to.
The drive from the pet store lasted 20 minutes. But, in the dark and noisy van it seemed like an eternity. To keep her fear at bay, LA-105 imagined her new house; she saw a safe room full of toys, and a loving owner to take care of her. What she got was another worker who took her pet carrier into a warehouse. LA-105 heard the sounds of dozens, even hundreds of other fluffies; they all sounded scared and miserable.
‘Whewe nice Mistah takin fwuffy?’ She asked over and over. ‘Wai Mistah nu take fwuffy tu nyu housie?!’ The worker answered when he grabbed the mare by the scruff of the neck and tossed her in a cage.
‘This is your new home moron.’ He slammed the cage door shut. The mare, shaken from what happened, took a moment before she stepped forward. Through the door, she saw a wall of cages, most with a fluffy like her in them.
‘Wat am dis pwace?’ Her fear grew by the second. ‘Whewe nice Mistahs take fwuffy? Whewe nyu Mummah? Whewe nyu housie?! Fwuffy nu wike dis pwace!!’ No one would bother to tell her she was the property of Epstein Bio-toys, the latest in a long line of broodmares. By chance, this happened to be the same mill she was born in.
That was the least of her problems though; at long last a worker came by her cage, only to shove a stallion inside. Annoyed by her constant yelling, the workers decided the mare’s first mate would be the roughest stud the factory had.
‘A-am fwuffy nyu fweeee!’ The mare screamed as the stallion tackled her. ‘Screeee! Wai huwEEEEE!’
The stallion smacked her over the head. ‘Shud up dummeh! Yu am dummeh enfie mawe nao!!’
‘Nu! Pwease nu huwtEEEEE! SQUEEEEEEE!’ LA-105 squealed in pain as the stallion introduced her to the concept of “special huggies!”
ENF ENF ENF ENF
‘NUUUUU!!’ she scrambled madly to get away. ‘NU WAN NU WA-SMACK SMACK-EEEEEE!’
‘SHUD UP DUMMEH!!!’ The stallion yelled. ‘NU WUIN SPECIAW HUGGIES!!!’ ENF ENF ENF ENF
‘MUMMAH! MUUMMAHH!!’
ENF ENF ENF EN-GUD FEEEWWWS!’ The stallion finished. ‘Haf haf Dummeh mawe giv besets gud feews.’
‘Give her another round,’ the worked standing outside said.
‘Otay. ENF ENF ENF ENF ENF’
‘SQUEEEEE!! NUUUHHUHUHUUU!’
It took hours for LA-105 to stop crying, and hours more for the pain to fade. The nightmares however would be with her forever. After a few weeks passed though, LA-105 found something to distract her. The mare noticed she was bigger and there was a funny sensation in her tummy, a sort of soft wriggle. LA-105 deduced the odd sensations were foals, her foals!
Despite the misery of her new life, the knowledge she would soon be a mother filled LA-105 with joy. Her new home may have been miserable, but once she had her foals they would make everything better; at last, she’d have something to love and love her back. ‘Fwuffy nu can wait tu see yu babbehs,’ she said without fail each night before sleep. ‘Nu can wait tu be Mummah.’ LA-105 closed her eyes, but was woken soon after by the worst pain she’d ever felt.
‘SCREEEEEEE!’
It felt like she was taking poopies, the biggest hardest poopies ever!
‘BIGGEST POOPIES! SCREEEEE!!’
Splort ‘Cheep cheep cheep!’
Her firstborn, a yellow unicorn, wriggled about in the shallow pool of fluid.
‘SCREEEEE MUUMMAHH!!’
Splort splort ‘Cheep cheep.’
‘Speep! Peep peep!!’
Two foals, both earthies like their mother, entered the world one after another. Moments later they were joined by a pegasus.
‘UUUHUHUHU NU WAN MOWE HUWTIEEEEE!’
Splort ‘Cheep cheeep!’
Her last foal, another earthy, emerged into the world Moments later the remnants of the placenta followed, and the mare’s ordeal was over. ‘Haf haf haf haf’ She was exhausted, in pain, and wanted nothing more than to sleep-
‘Peep peep.’
‘Cheep cheep cheep.’
‘Speeeeep!’
-but her newborns’ cries spurred her to action. On shaky legs, LA-105 stood and turned to face her brood. ‘B-babbehs? Babbehs! Nu wowwie, Mummah hewe nao!’ She picked up a foal, one of the earthies, and felt compelled to lick it clean. The taste of the amniotic fluid was foul, and the mare nearly threw up, but maternal instincts pushed her through it. With her foal as clean as she could get it, she put the filly on her teat so it could feed.
LA-105 picked up another foal, the yellow unicorn colt, and repeated the process. The taste wasn’t any better, but it was easier to deal with. Soon the unicorn joined his sister on the other teat. After the third foal was clean LA-105 faced a problem; she had far more foals than teats. ‘Sowwie babbeh.’ She pulled the earthie away from its teat.
‘Speep! Peep peep!’
‘Nu cwy babbeh, oda babbeh nee miwkies tuu!’ She put the third foal on the free teat and let him drink. The mare cleaned her last two foals and began the task of juggling her brood between her teats until their hunger was satisfied. Finally, LA-105 put them in a little pile on a clean spot of the cage floor and curled around them.
‘Chirp chirp.’
‘Burp Cheep.’
‘Dewe dewe babbehs, yu gu swe-yawn-epies nao.’ One by one her foals fell asleep, but the mare held on as long as she could; the burning love and affection she felt in her heart was the best thing she’d ever felt. It wouldn’t last.
‘LA-105’s had her first batch.’
The mare stirred.
‘How many?’
‘Five. Good colours too.’
‘They all kicking?’
‘Let’s find out.’
Before LA-105 knew what was happening, a hand reached into the cage and left with-
‘Peep peep peep!’
‘BABBEH NU!’
The mare saw her yellow unicorn in the grip of the worker, and made a common mistake; she fought. LA-105 lunged forward and bit the hand with all her might, but in the blink of an eye, she was out of the cage on the factory floor. The worker held her flat on the floor and-
WACK
‘SCREEEEEEE!’
WACK WACK WACK
-laid his sorry stick across LA-105 backside over and over. ‘Listen you little bitch,’ he yelled, ‘those foals belong to US, not you! Pull that shit again, and you can be a fuck toy for the studs!’ He threw LA-105 back in her cage with such force she bounced off the back wall. Coming to her senses, she realised all her foals were gone!
‘BABBEHS!’ She ran to the front and pressed her face against the mesh door. ‘BABBEHS!! PWEASE GIV BABBEHS BACK TU MUMMAH!! DAY TUU WITTWE!! TUU WIDDWUHUHUHUUU!!!’ But the workers moved on. LA-105 screamed and cried for the rest of the day; the single shred of happiness in her life was gone. Later in the week workers brought a stallion to her cage, the same one as first. As payback for her resistance, they’d dosed him with aphrodisiacs.
ENFENFENFENF
‘SCREEEEE NU MOWE NU MOWE!! PWEASEEEE!’
ENFENFENFENFENFENF
LA-105 could barely stand for the rest of the week. Once again she swelled, but she wasn’t lucky enough to foal at night. She went into labour in the middle of the morning collection round, and the workers plucked her foals from the cage as they were born.
‘SCREEE HUUUHUUU PWEASE NU TAKE BABBEHS!’ She begged between contractions. ‘DAY NEE MIWKEEEEEEEEE!!!’
‘That’ what the milk bags are for,’ the indifferent worker plucked a wet pegasus colt from the cage. Soon it was all over, and they left the mare to cry in defeat.
LA-105 now waits for her 6th litter to be born, and hopes against hope it’ll happen tonight. The little bit of time that would give her with her foals is the only thing she lives for.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows and a deep orange glow over the city. Throughout the steel and concrete landscape, thousands of people carried out their lives; day workers were on their commute back home, bar and restaurant staff got ready for the night’s work, cops patrolled the streets, and many other people got on with many other tasks. Somewhere in the urban chaos, a fluffy dragged a discarded bag of fast food down a quiet downtown alley.
The mare was a stray, though not from a house. Some months ago, she’d been stock in a small pet store raided by a militant fluffy right’s group. The activists broke in and released all the fluffies they could and though some were recovered, others like the mare eluded capture. The adjustment to street life was hard, but she learned from the close shaves and adapted to the life of an urban feral quite well. As is the way of life, the mare met a stallion and the pair decided to start a family.
They chose a cluster of boxes in a rarely used alley as their new home, and set about building a life; it took no time at all for them to conceive their first litter. The mare helped her mate forage and maintain their nest, until her pregnancy made strenuous work and travel impossible. From then on, she sat in the nest and waited for her mate to return with food and beading material. One day he came back in time for the mare to go into labour, and was there to see the birth of their foals.
The special friends were now the proud parents of five healthy foals. The stallion continued his daily trips for food, while the mare stayed with their offspring. Each day she nursed and played with the little bundles of fluff, and waited for the return of her mate at the end of the day. He would take his turn to play with the foals, and then they’d go to sleep in their fluff pile. That was the routine of their life, until one day when the stallion didn’t return.
Such is the reality of urban ferals. In this particular case, the stallion wandered into view of a couple of petty criminals while he searched a disused industrial area. The young men were there to test a recently acquired handgun, and one bet the other half his stash he could hit the fluffy from where they were. The end result; bet won, criminal stoned, and mare widowed.
She stayed hopeful through the night, and the following day. By the second night though, she was forced to face reality; her mate wasn’t coming home. Though she wanted to break down and morn her loss, it was a luxury she couldn’t afford; she needed food to make milk for her foals, and soon they’d need solid food as well. It was up to her to find it.
The mare dragged the bag inside the large cluster of boxes that was her home. ‘Mummah am back babbehs,’ she announced. ‘Hav nummies!’
‘Yay!’ The foals emerged from their hiding places and swarmed the fast food bag. Small teeth and hooves tore open the thin paper and revealed the bounty inside; one man’s unwanted combo meal was a fluffy’s feast. The mare and her foals devoured the fries and partially eaten burger; for the first time in days, they felt the satisfaction of a full stomach. The mare stored what was left in a stock pile for later, and the family settled down for the night in their fluff pile. As always, the mare curled protectively around her foals.
‘Here, this is what we’re looking for.’
The mare stirred; was the voice part of her dreams, or-
‘Which one’s the-’
‘The big one here-’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yep, but keep the net ready.’
Before the mare was able to process that the voices were real, and a danger, the family’s world was literally turned sideways!
‘Screeee!’
The mare tumbled as the large box she called home tipped violently.
‘Spee!’
‘Eeeep! Mummah!!!’
‘Scree! Munstah!!’
The mare’s foals awoke in terror; she knew she had to protect them, but from what?! She looked around the dishevelled mess that used to be her home; everything was a mess, and what had been the entrance was a wall! No that wasn’t right, it had moved, up? The mare raised her head and-
‘There, what did I tell ya? ’ The low light made it hard to see, but the mare knew at once the figure looming over her was a human.
‘Sweet, mare and foals.’ That made two. ‘Should I get a carrier?’
‘Don’t need one,’ the nest shifted again. Now it was rising?! ‘Just take the box. What are they going to do, climb out?’ The mare felt the box move; through the panic and the terror she realised the human was carrying the box somewhere, with her and her foals in it!!
‘Peep peep! Mummah sabe babbeh!!’
‘Nu wike! Babbeh nu wike! Peeep!’
‘Pwease wowk wingies!!’ The mare’s pegasus tried in vain to achieve lift off. ‘Wet babbeh fwy way fwom scawy munstah!!’
‘Id am otay babbehs,’ the mare said. ‘Mummah sabe yu!’ She turned her attention to the man carrying the box. ‘Meanie munstah stahp nao!!’ She screamed. ‘Put nestie back!!’
‘No can do sweetheart,’ the patrolman said. ‘City hall don’t pay me to put you back.’
The mare yelled and screamed at the patrolmen but to no avail; moments later the box was in the back of their van, and the patrolmen set off for the shelter. The mare curled around her foals, trying in vain to keep them calm.
‘Hewp! Fwuffy nu wan gu wif hoomins!’
‘Speciaw fwend! Speciaw fwend hewp!! Sade famiwy!!’
From the dark came the cries of a dozen other fluffies; some were lone mares or stallions, and there were a couple of families, one of which was even complete. There was even a litter of newborns found abandoned in a box, likely an unwanted domestic birth. None of the terrified passengers had any idea how long they’d been in the van, or where they were going.
‘Huuhuhu babbeh nu wike! Nu wike!’ One of the mare’s colt’s whined.
‘Wan housie gu back! Nu wan dis!’
‘N-nu wowwie babbehs, nu be scawdies,’ the mare did her best to comfort her foals, even though her own fear threatened to over take her at any moment. ‘Mummah nu wet bad tings happen; Mummah an babbehs be safe.’
The 15 minute drive felt like an eternal nightmare for the fluffies. At last, the van stopped and the rear doors swung open. The two patrolmen, joined by a shelter worker, unloaded the occupants and took them into the shelter’s holding area. There, the fluffies were removed from their carriers, or in the case of the mare and a few others their nest, and placed in a modest cage. The interiors were spartan to an extreme; each had two bowls, one with water and the other filled with generic tasteless kibble. In place of a bed was a ragged blanket all but the most desperate hobo would pass up.
‘Alright, see you fluff balls in the morning,’ the shelter worker switched the lights from harsh fluorescent white to a dull nighttime glow. In her cage, the mare led her foals to the make shift bed and did her best to calm them.
‘Id am otay babbehs, Mummah hewe. Mummah keep babbehs safe.’
‘Huuhuhu peeep! Nu wike nyu housie!!’
‘Nu cwy babbeh, id be otay.’ She assured her filly. ‘Mummah an babbehs be in nice nestie gain soon. Mummah pwomise.’
‘Sniff huuu otay Mummah.’
The foals huddled as close as they could get, desperate for the comfort of their mother’s warmth and her fluff; despite everything, they fell asleep rather fast. The mare though stayed awake, always vigilant for a new threat. As the hours ticked by though, fatigue chipped away at her; a little more than an hour after her arrival, sleep overtook the mare.
‘So this is last night’s haul? What did we get?’
This time the mare woke with a jolt.
‘Mostly loners. I think there’s about 3 families, and an abandoned litter’s; it’s in the incubator.’
‘Alright, let’s see who we can salvage.’ The mare waited in tense silence as she listened to the workers outside.
‘Peep. Mummah wat am dat?’ One of her foals asked.
‘Mummah nu knu babbeh,’ she said. ‘Bud Mummah nu wet bad tings-’
‘Nuu! Nu huwt fwuffy!’ The fluffy’s yell sent a bolt of fear through her.
‘Calm down boy, we won’t hurt you.
‘Nuuu! Hewp! Hewwwp!!’
‘Peep peeep! Mummah!!’
‘Scawies!!’
‘Huuhuhuhuuu nu wike! Wai Mummah nu take babbehs back to nestie!!’
Not knowing what to do, the mare curled around her terrified foals.
‘Ok what do we have here,’ one of the workers examined the frightened stallion. ‘Decent health, no injuries or external parasites-’
‘Huuhuhuuuu pwease nu huwt fwuffy! Fwuffy am gud fwuffy!!’
‘Little jumpy though. What do you think?’
‘He’s got potential.’ His female co-worker said, ‘A week in a warm bed with regular meals, and no random kicks, he should come good.’
‘Alright then.’ The first worker fastened a green tag the stallion’s leg and returned him to the cage. ‘Next candidate.’ The worker opened the next cage, which too contained a stallion. Unlike the first…
‘Wet fwuffy gu dummeh!!’ The stallion rushed the open door. ‘Fwuffy nee fin famiwy!!!’ The stallion charged the worker, meaning to bite his hand. The worker however was wise to that move; he expertly grabbed the fluffy by the scruff, and pinned him to the cage floor.
‘Thoughts?’ he asked his partner, as though the question was in doubt.
‘Too aggressive for rehab, even after we snip him,’ she said. ‘Plus, he’ll never settle if he thinks he’s got a family out there.’
‘Fwuffy hav famiwy dummeh!!!’ If only the stallion knew his mate and foals had been picked up by a patrol team from another company, one who had a capture and kill policy.
‘Red tag it is.’ The worker slipped the tag around the stallion’s leg, signing his death warrant. The pair continued evaluating the fluffies. The next two, both mares, were deemed suitable for rehab and adoption. The mare after them though was too banged up and scored a red tag. Then, the mare heard her cage door open; she looked up and saw the workers.
‘Ok girl,’ the man said. ‘I want you to bring your babies down the front so we can-’
‘Nuuu!’ The mare curled tighter around her foals. ‘Nu huwt babbehs!!’
‘We won’t hurt them, we just want to look at them.’
‘NUUUU! GU WAY!!!’ The mare screamed.
‘Come on, it’s okay,’ the worker slowly reached into the cage. ‘We just want to-’
‘REEEEEE!’ The mare lunged at the approaching hand, meaning to bite and stamp it with all her might! But as with the stallion, the worker moved his hand faster than the mare could react; she found herself pinned to the cage floor. ‘REEEEEE! EEEEEEEE!’ She screamed and thrashed about, but the worker’s grip held.
‘Get the foals.’ He said to his partner, who gathered up the mare’s brood.
‘Screeee!’
‘Mummah! Muumaaah!!’
‘Peeep! Sabe babbeh!!!’
‘BABBEHS!!! NU TAKE BABBEHS!!! REEEEEEE!!!’ Their mother struggled with all her strength against the grip of the worker, but it was useless. Then all of a sudden, the mare felt the worker release his hold on her; seeing her moment, she charged the front of the cage-
‘CRASH’
-only to smash into the door. ‘BABBEHS!! BAAABEEHS!!!’Through the cage door she watched the two workers sort through he foals, carefully looking over each one.
‘Decent health, no external parasites or injuries, a little on the thin side but a week of regular feeding will fix that.’
‘Chances?’
‘Mummah!!’
‘Nu wike, nu wiiike!!!’
‘I’d say good; week or two with the trainer, should do just fine.’
‘Alright. I’ll take em to the pens.’ The female worker got small cardboard box, placed the foals inside and walked out of the room to the shelter’s foal pens to start their rehabilitation.
‘NUUUUUU!!!’ the mare wailed. ‘NU TAKE BABBEHS!! BABBEHS NEE MUMMAH! NEE MUMMAH!!!’
‘Mummah!! Mummah sabe babbeh!!!’ One of her filly’s reached over the lip of the box; the sight of the terrified yellow face would be the last thing the mare ever saw of her brood as the worker disappeared out the door.
‘SCREEEEEEE!’ The mare battered the cage door, madly trying to get out and rescue her foals. ‘WAI MEANIE WAWW NU GU WAY!!! MUMMAH NEE SABE BABBEHS!!! NEE SAB-’
‘Sphss sphss’
The mare’s perception went blurry, and her legs gave out. The fluffy collapsed on her side and though she tried to fight it, the knock out spray soon rendered her unconscious.
Some hours later the mare woke up; though still groggy from the effects of the knock out spray, she got up on shaky legs, and stumbled to the cage door. ‘Babbehs! Mummah cummin babbehs!’ She batted and kicked the cage door, and when it didn’t work she tried to bite it; all she managed to do was chip one of her teeth. ‘Screee! Owwies huuhuhu!’ The pain forced her to stop and the mare curled up on the floor of the cage.
A little while later, the mare managed to get to her feet once again; pain aside, her head was clear, and could see she was not in the same room as before. From where she stood she saw a wall of cages like hers; most were empty, but some contained a fluffy. A few of them slept, but most either cried to themselves, called for their mates and foals, or tried to escape.
After a few moments, the mare felt something on her leg; upon inspection, she saw a yellow tag fastened around it. Her aggressive action towards the workers, maternal instincts or not, ruled her out as adoption material. But with her health and colours, she was too valuable to cave in her temple with a bolt gun. So, the shelter marked her for industrial use and transferred her to the back section.
Somewhere far to the right, a door opened. Down the hall came the sounds of people talking. ‘Right let’s see what we’ve got.’ Try as she might, the door prevented the mare from seeing who the human was; all she knew of the mystery man was his voice. ‘Ok, I’ll take that one, that one, those three on the bottom row, she looks too old, won’t survive conversion.’
The voice drew closer, and the mare strained to see who it was; the human didn’t sound like either of the previous workers, which was cause for hope. Maybe he’d help her find her foals and escape from this place, then help them get back to the alley they were living in. Or better yet, take them home with him and-
‘What can you tell me about this one?’
The mare jumped back, started by the sudden appearance of the unfamiliar human in front of her cage.
‘Nothing special; feral mare with foals, came in last night.’
‘What was the litter like?’
‘Pretty good,’ the first worker said. ‘Five foals, all healthy with good colours. Don’t know if that was the whole litter, could have had a runt or a stillbirth too.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’ The stranger looked at the mare, and her fate was sealed. ‘I’ll take her too.’
‘Cool.’ We’ll get them boxed up.’
As the pair walked away, the mare returned to the front of the cage; ‘Nyu mistah! Nu gu way nyu mistah!’ She yelled. ‘Pwease! Pwease hewp fwuffy fin babbehs an wun way!! Pwease nyu mistah!!!’ Her pleas fell on deaf ears. A few minutes later, the worker returned to her cage and opened the door, then grabbed her by the scruff and load her into a small pet carrier.
‘Pwease! Pwease take Mummah to babbehs!’ the mare begged. ‘Babbehs nee Mummah! Day nee huggies an wub! Day nee Mummah!!’ The man ignored the mare and loaded the carrier into a van waiting outside. He and a few others gathered the other carriers and loaded them into the van, then shut the doors. Once again, the mare found herself in a dark terrifying space.
‘Pwease! Fwuffy nu wike dis pwace!! Pwease take back to babbehs!!’
‘Nu wan be hewe huhuhuhuuu! Wan boxie housie!!’
‘Uuuuhuhuhuuuuu!’
Following the half hour van ride, the mare and the dozen and a half others taken from the shelter were again confined to cages; these were much smaller, and with only a small water bottle. From the cages the mares saw a variety of strange equipment, and in the middle of the room a table with odd features. Not one of them knew what any of it was, but a sliver of their minds knew it was to be feared. They weren’t left waiting on their own for long; less than an hour after their arrival, a lone man entered the room.
The men dressed in coveralls, a heavy duty apron, surgical mask and safety goggles. ‘Let’s get this done,’ he muttered, then walked to the cages.
‘Whewe takin fwuffy?!’ The young mare squealed as the man pulled her from the cage. ‘Pwease nu huwties! Jus wan boxie housie back!’ The man carried the squirming fluffy to the table and strapped her into the restraints. ‘Eeee! Nu wike! Nu wike huhuhuhu!’ The mare struggled in vain against the stainless steel frame and leather straps; the restraints held her legs out at an unnatural angle. ‘Owwies! Owwwieees! Wai mistah giv huwties?! Am gud fwuffy!!’
‘Breath’ the man held a gas mask in front of the mare’s face. After a few seconds she became subdued and groggy, but not unconscious. As part of his employer’s cost cutting policy, he was to use only enough anaesthesia to give the mares a good chance to survive conversion. From the cages, the other fluffies watched in confusion, which turned to terror at the site of the tool the worker picked up.
‘Eeeee!’
‘Nu giv dat fwuffy sowwie stick!! She gud fwuffy!!’
Their concern turned to panic as the worker brought the specially designed knife to one of the restrained fluffy’s legs. He position the hooked portion of the blade, and in one swift motion severed all muscle and other connective tissue. ‘Skreeee!’ The mare bucked and screamed; though her senses were dulled, a large amount pain got through. The groggy fluffy did her best to escape from the threat, whatever it was, but the restraints held her tight.
‘NUU! NU HUWT FWEND!!’ One of the caged mares screamed as the worker repeated the process with the remaining three legs. The leather straps controlled the blood flow, but they would give the worker five extra minutes at most; the mare didn’t need to lose all it’s blood to die after all. He put down the hooked blade and picked up a tool which resembled garden sheers designed by a surgeon. He slipped the jaws into the wound channel on the mare’s leg and-
Crsnap
-severed the bone.
‘Skreeeee! Reeeeeeeee!’ The fluffy bucked and struggled madly; without the anaesthetic, the pain would have sent her into shock by now, and death not long after.
‘NU TAKE WEGGIES!!! FWUFFY NEE WEGGIES FOW WUN AN PWAY!!’
‘SCREEEEEEE! BANG BANG HEWP!!! HEWP MUMMAH! SABE FWUFFY!!!’ One of the caged mares intuited this was what was in store for her and hammered the cage door, desperate to escape.
Sppppppt Sppppppt Back at the table the worker sprayed the bloody stumps with a fast acting wound sealant that stemmed the blood flow. The pillowed mare squirmed against the body restraints, desperate to escape the source of the pain and torment. But it wasn’t over by a long shot. The worker picked up the next tool, which resembled an ice-cream scoop. With one hand, he held the mare’s head still-
‘EEEEEEEE! SCREEEEE!’
-slipped the oddly shaped blade between the eye ball and the socket, and with one swift motion scooped it from the mare’s skull.’
‘REEEEEEE!’ The fluffy tried to thrash her head about, but the worker’s grip was firm. In short order he had the other eye plucked out, and the empty bloody sockets were sprayed with wound sealant and stuffed with gauze
‘NUUUUUU!’
‘MUMMAH! MUUMMAHH!!!’
The hysterical mares screamed and cried; their bladders and bowels voided, and filled the room with the stench of shit and piss. The ventilation fans struggled to keep the air breathable. The worker docked the mare’s tail and set the “converted unit” aside on a shelf and walked back to the cages. The mutilated fluffy squirmed about, driven half mad by the combined effects of the mild anaesthetic and modification.
‘SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!’ The mare from the alley screamed her lungs out when she realised the man was coming for her!! She turned around in the tiny cage and batted at the solid end wall, desperate to escape! Behind her the cage door opened and ‘NUUUUUUUUUUUUU!’ the worked pulled her out by the scruff of the neck. The struggled and thrashed about in the man’s grip as she was carried toward the table, still bloody form it’s first victim.
‘NUU! NUUUUUUUUUU! SCREEEEEEEEEEE!!!’ The mare screamed as the worker strapped her down. ‘HEWWWP! HEWWWWP FWUFFY!!! NU WAN WOSE WEGGGIEEEESS!’ The mare, mad with terror, struggled in vain against the iron grip of the restraints. ‘SCREEEEE!’ She screamed in terror as the mask approached her face; seconds later she smelled and tasted the odd sour metallic anaesthetic gas. As in the shelter, her mind blurred and senses dulled. Unlike the shelter she struggled on, driven by base instincts; but it would all be in vain.
‘SQUEEEEEEE!’
The white hot sting of the hook blade crashed through the haze in her mind, then again as it happened another three times. Next came the clippers; the mare wailed in agony as her legs were separated from her body. Then there was the burn of the wound sealant, the tight grip of the worker’s hand on the mare’s head, and the sight of the eye removal tool creeping close. Unable to move, all she could do was watch as the nightmarish tool drew naturally close.
There was a stinging pain, and the sight from her left eye grew distorted and red, before disappearing all together. The mare watched in dumbfounded terror as the worker pulled away the tool with the eye, her eye, in it’s grip. The worker dumped it, and went in for the other.
‘SCREEEEEE HUHUHUHUHU REEEEEEE!!!’ Blinded, pillowed, mind foggy and in immense pain, the mare was set on the shelf next to the first unfortunate victim. Together they wriggled, screamed and cried, their ears assaulted by the sounds of the other mares as they were mutilated in the same way, one after another. Sometime during the process, the mare was grated a small mercy and passed out. But, she wasn’t lucky enough to die.
‘Mmmmphf! Nnnnph!! Ooompgh!’ When she came too, still in a world of dark pain, the mare was greeted by new sensations. First was the bulky feed tube forced down her gullet, then the catheter and rectal waste tube. Last of all, was the sucking on her teats; not the soft gentle suckle of a foals mouth, but the harsh relentless action of an auto milker. Though she couldn’t see it, the mare was in one of dozens of rows of similarly mutilated fluffies, stacked 15 high in a tight warehouse space. What she also didn’t know was she’d already been impregnated with semen harvested from similarly modified stallions.
She and the other mares taken from the shelter were production units in what the industry dubbed a “High Density Bio-Toy Factory,” or HDBTF. Recent years had seen small and mid scale breeders, plus the odd ball of the industrial scale world Sunnydale Farms, attempt to force a change in the bio-toy market. Their goal was shift the selling point from simple colour and cuteness appeal, to more highly trained fluffies that were obedient and free of the infuriating quirks early domestics were notorious for.
Gradually, they nibbled away at the market share of the huge mills as customers came around to the idea that a well train obedient brown fluffy was a far better prospect than a colourful yet hastily trained mill foal. This had the effect of driving some smaller mills out of business, and some predicted they would disappear given enough time. Weather or not they would, some operators made damn sure they wouldn’t.
Some hit upon the idea that the easiest way to stay viable was mercilessly slash costs by reducing living space of the breeders, and consolidation where possible. HDBTFs like this one was the final evolution of the idea; row upon row of pillowed mares set on on top of another, depositing foals into tiny padded pens behind them. Each pen had an auto feeder with milk constantly harvested from the same mares, breeders and milk-bags rolled into one package. It was profitable, efficient, and a living nightmare.
The mare’s torment was unending; constant pain and discomfort, plus the occasional labour and devastating aftermath, knowing she had foals somewhere out there, and being unable to get to them. Time blurred, and the mare could hardly tell where her waking life and dreams began and ended. It bled together into an unending stream of horror. In time, it would fray her mind and her sanity; cut off from most sensory stimulation and in a desperate bid to escape the pain, she retreated inward.
Gradually, little flickers of dreams would stitch together into a more complete delusion, slowly becoming more real to the tormented fluffy. She’d experience vivid and nonsensical dreams and hallucinations, and while some were terrifying they’d become her escape. That was still some months away though.
For now, it would be pain.
‘NNNNNHNHNHNH!!’