NexTech Bio-Industries parts 11 and 12 by Dildofarmer

[NexTech Bio-Industries parts 1 and 2 by Dildofarmer]
[NexTech Bio-Industries parts 3 and 4 by Dildofarmer]
[NexTech Bio-Industries Parts 5 and 6 by Dildofarmer]
[NexTech Bio-Industries parts 7 and 8 by Dildofarmer]
[NexTech Bio-Industries parts 9 and 10 by Dildofarmer]
[NexTech Bio-Industries parts 11 and 12 by Dildofarmer]
[NexTech Bio-Industries Parts 13, 14 and Epilogue by Dildofarmer]

NexTech Bio-Industries
11 Infection Day: Evening

You are Spring, the pale purple pegasus mare. You get one good look at your three babees before a curtain of tears washes over your peepers. They are in the front of your housie, and the little tan pointy babee is lying down while the two earthies are sitting up and giving him huggies. They are all making saddies and babee-chirps.

You lie down and try to give them all the biggest huggies. You have been giving your babees mummah-lickies and nuzzlies since they were little fuzzy new-babees, and now they are big talkie-babees. You feel sure you could tell if anything was wrong, but the humans seem to have given all four of you the same little pointy owwie on the hip.

That just makes you have bigger scaredies, because the humans said they had given all the fluffies sickies. You begged them not to, but they did it anyway. They did something to the inside of your babees, something you can’t see. Something you can’t give them huggies for and make it go ‘way.

The huge, dark-skinned human is standing in front of Muffin’s cage. The red mare is sitting on her chubby rump with both front hoofies against the wires.

“Daddeh? Daddeh? Muffin wa’ gud fwuffy! Pwease be daddeh now? M-M-muffin nu wike dis pwace! Wan’ nestie an’ nummies an’ petties! Pwease, daddeeeeeh!”

“Oh, jeez, Muffin,” he groans, “You’re still a dumb, shitty fluffy. Sorry, but you better stay here and see if you die from a rhinovirus. I gotta go.” Marcus laughs his loud, scary laugh one more time and starts talking to James.

Muffin starts making big saddies. “Daddeh?” She yells again, one last time, but it was loud enough to make James look over and make angry eyes. She slumps down and starts crying into her hooves. “Huuu, huuuuu, huuuu - hic! - huuu, huuuu!” At least she is learning not to make noisies and loudies all the time.

In the far cage, Hazel is lying down and giving her babees nummy milkies. She is holding the big earthie filly and trying to make talkies to it, but it is fussing and crying and pushing on her snoutie with its hoofies. Her pointy babees squabbled with each other over her milkie places even though there was one milkie place for each of them. Now they are being very serious about numming milkies. All you see is two lumps of fluff, green and blue, stacked up between Hazel’s back leggies. You are glad they are finally getting good milkies to num-num.

But it doesn’t make you feel any better. You look back at your own babees. They have stopped crying, and your green earthie filly with the pretty white mane is looking up at you and making gif-huggies.

“Mummah!” it peeps. “Uppsies! Wuv!”

You sit and give it the biggest huggies you can with your hoofies. You give it mummah nuzzlies and it giggles.

“Babees… huu, babees yu feaw good? Babees haf happies?” Only the sandy-colored ponty colt seems to think about it. The two earthies cheer at you “Babee happies!” and “Wuv mummah!”

“Meanie hooman gif owwies.” says the pointy babee. You can tell your earthie babees are remembering it now, because they stop making happies and make tiny saddies instead.

“Huu, mummah sowwy, babees. Mummah twy to saf babees. Mummah su, su sowwy.” Your earthie babees give you huggies and make babee-coo-coos, but your pointy babee stops and thinks some more.

“Nu sowwy, mummah. Babee happeh.”

You look down at him, but you don’t know how to tell him about the things that are giving you scaredies. “Babees… wan’ num miwkies?” you ask, reclining onto your side.

“Miwkies!” peeps the grey-blue earthie. He has been growing fastest of all. He can almost gallop without making oopsie-fall-downs. James is talking to Marcus at his end of the big table.

“Well, this project has a time limit on it.” he said in a low tone.

“Yeah,” rumbled Marcus “Like, two guys from Breeding got other long-term assignments. Dave and Hector are doing bullshit like me. Inventory. They already have a part-time girl who does deliveries, so most of the time I’m on my ass. It’s not good.”

James groaned. “Anyway, thanks for dropping by.”

“Anytime, man. I’ll come back up and see you in a few days. I know where they kept a box of random shit from Breeding, maybe I’ll fetch it by.” The dark-skinned man grabbed his boxie and his rolly-thing and headed for the door.

“Daddeeeeh! Nu weeeeave!” yelled Muffin. Far too loud. James jumps up and starts yelling and making angries at her.

“And nobody is ever going to be your daddy, so shut the fuck up! Marcus is just messing with you!” With that, he smacks his palm onto Muffin’s cage with a noise that gives owwies to your earsies. Your little grey-blue colt makes scaredy chirps and scaredy poopies on the carpet before running over to you. Your other two babees and Muffin’s two babees all start crying.

“Jesus christ,” he snarls at you, “You’ve been pissing me off today, Sad Fluffy. You better make sure that shit is cleaned up by tomorrow morning.” He points to the poopies that your babees just made, and the ones your green filly made earlier.

“Sowwy! Sowwy! Spwing wiww cwean poopies. Nice mistew. Sowwy.” you say as loudly as you dare.

James leaves. You curl up around your babees and make mummah coos at them until they stop crying. You give them petties and sing to them while trying to watch James. He just sits down moodily at his table and starts playing with his toysies. Your babees are all tired, so they give each other huggies and make nappy-snoozies in your fluff. After a while, you fall asleep too.

In your sleepy-pictures, you go back to the Breeding Unit when you were a soon-mummah. You are in the big, cold-walled room with fluffies’ housies all around it. It’s the day you learned that the whole room was just like a biggest meanie sinky-place.

You are in your housie - you think it is the same housie as you live in now. Your tummy place has grown and grown until you can only touch three hoofies down at once. You have to make huffies a lot, and you feel pudgy and not-pretty. Sometimes you can feel your tummy babees move, and it is the most wonderful thing, like your heart-fluffy is getting the best huggies ever. Other times it gives you owwies, so you sing mummah-songs to your tummy-babees to make them have happy sleepies.

“Mummah wuvs babees, babees in tummeh. Babees aww pwetty, mummah gif huggies.”

You know your babees are the prettiest even though you have never seen them. It’s like you can see them with the inside of your tummy. Since your tummy babees came, you made bad poopies and piddles in your housie a few times, but the humans don’t yell at you or hit you for it. Instead, the Smartiest human, who wears pretty tail-thingies around his neck, is talking to two other humans in front of your housie.

“Well, last night the board made its decision. This place is now a storage area, and the first thing we’re storing is half this junk. The other half gets tossed. I called the shelter and they want toys and food but no shitrats, so they’re going to the city incinerator. You need anything special for that?”

“Naah,” growls the other human, who you now realize was Marcus all along. “You pay like seven bucks per truckload. It’s like the dump. Except you can’t burn plastic, so we can use a few cages to carry ‘em.

“I mean… you have some idea about getting it done?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, that’s no problem, skipper. Tap them on the head with a hammer. Hose the place down.”

“Okay. I’ll have a list of reserved specimens - a few need to be held until they croak or some project starts next week. Those will get red tags. I’ll call for some more techs to help out.”

The Spring in the sleepies-pictures is confused and scared, but wakies-Spring knows what will happen next. You don’t want to see any of it again, but you can’t stop it.

More humans show up, more than you have ever seen at once. You realize now that one of them was James. They all get together and take apart the big shiny saddies table. The sight of it gives you scaredy huffies. The saddies table is the biggest thing ever and the humans just pull it apart and drag it over against a wall like nothing. Underneath, you see the scariest dark hole in the floor, with bars over it like a fluffy housie. It gives you big, big scaredies. You want to get away from the hole, but you are so big and full of tummy-babees that you can’t.

Your sleepy-pictures self makes scaredy poopies and says “huuu!” when the humans kill the first stallion. Boy-fluffies lived all the way across the room, so he was just a yellow fluffy blob at first, but when the human brought him to the scary hole, you saw that it was a wingie boy fluffy. You heard him making talkies and saddies.

“Huu, fwuffy sowwy! Fwuffy sowwy, nice mistew! Huu, pwease nu owwies, nice mistew! Fwuffy wuv y-”

The human’s hand flashed, and you saw he had some kind of stick. He brought the stick down very hard right on the back of the yellow stallion’s head. CRACK!

“Hekkk! Hekk!” said the stallion. He stuck all four hoofies straight forward and curled his lips back from his toothies. Then he made poopies right down the drain. They threw him in the top of a fluffy-housie, and he laid there kicking just a tiny bit.

“Huu, hoomans kiww. Hoomans kiww fwuffy,” says the mare in the housie next to your sleepy-pictures self. You remember that you made friends with her because she had tummy-babies too. She already had tummy-babees once before, and she told you all kinds of smartiest things about them. The two of you cried as you watched the humans kill the stallions. The fluffies didn’t even do anything bad.

The humans pulled crying, screaming stallions out of their housies one by one. Some of the fluffies tried to stay in their housies or beg the humans not to give them hurties, but it didn’t matter. They killed them with their meanie hurties stick until the yellow fluffy’s housie was full of dead stallions with booboo juice smeared on their heads, then the new humans carried it away. Then they somehow made scary wawas appear to blast all the poopies and ickies down the hole. The whole room was the biggest scariest sinky place. The other fluffies made saddies and huuhus louder and louder, louder than you ever heard before or since.

Scaredy poopies come out of you. Your tummy babees were scared, too. Then the humans killed most of the sickies-come-back fluffies on the next wall. They pulled little shiny hard things out of their bodies and made their booboo juice come out while the fluffies screamed and cried, then hit them on the head. You remember one of them was a bright green pointy friend with the fluff missing from his entire tummy. There were shiny wawas baggies stuck to him and little stringies coming out of him and into the wawas baggies. He was all skin and bones.

“Otay.” he said as a human carried him over above the scary dark hole. He seemed full of saddies but didn’t make any poopies or weewees until after the human hit him. He just hung from the humans’ big hand and said “Otay… wan’… otay.”

Pretty soon another fluffy housie is full of fluffies taking forever sleepies. After that, they pull the nice soon-mummah next door out of her housie. She moans. One human holds her up by her front leggies. She is so big and round, like a big ball made of fluffy-tummy, and she cries and make scaredy whinnies. She tries to make runny leggies in midair.

“Nu, nu, pwease! Pwease nu kiww! Nee’ haf babees! Babees in tummeh!” she screams. “Pwease, fo’ babees! Wuv babees!” But the humans in your sleepy-pictures don’t listen. Another human, big and round himself, picks up the biggest, longest sorry stick ever and gives the mummah the biggest hitties right in the belly. It was so fierce that it makes the air tickle your snoutie and your ears wobble, and it seems to leave a dent in the soon- mummah’s fluffy round tummy-tum. She screams, then makes a dummy noise as the human winds up and hits her again in the belly. The sorry stick moves so fast it makes the air wobble. He gives her hitties again and again.

Poopies and dark ickies come out from under her tail, first in big globs and then a steady splatty-splat like icky poopies. You think stuff is coming out of her special place. Just then, your sleepies-pictures-self sees something white and blue pop out of the mummah. You see it’s a tiny babee, just like the ones in your tummy, and it has some kind of long ickies thingy leading back up to its mummah. You see it wiggling its little hoofies as it lies next to the sinky drain hole. Then its mummah’s body falls on it and she wiggles her hoofies and tosses her head around, too, and ickies and booboo juice comes out of both ends.

The humans make scary water on the mess and throw the dead mummah into another empty fluffy housie. The human who was giving the mummah meanie uppsies picks up the giant hurty stick and points to your cage. You remember hugging your tummy and saying sorry-bye-byes to your tummy-babies and crying because you would never give them huggies or milkies. Then, just when the big round human was opening your cage, the Smartiest Man came out and asked how many soon-mummahs were left.

You wake up from your sleepy-pictures. You are curled up around your babees, and your tears are dripping down onto them. You can see your green babee lying on her back with her little hoofies in the air. She has a big smile on her face, and she makes babee-coos in her sleep. You give her mummah-nuzzles and lickies to clean your tears off, but just then you hear her make sneezies: Pa-chew! And a gobbet of sniffer-yikkies comes out of her little snoutie.

NexTech Bio-Industries
12 Pathogenesis

Spring didn’t sleep much. Her green pegasus filly only sneezed once more in the dark hours before dawn, but the thought that the humans had finally made their move gripped her and didn’t let go. It didn’t help when one of Muffin’s foals coughed a few times. The sunlight leaking in around the door jamb went from blue to gold as she lay miserably awake, looking down at her brood.

“Huu, babees…”

She must have nodded off, because James woke her when he blustered back in the door just before nine o’clock. He looked normal - thick-framed black glasses, khaki scrubs, bucket-sized coffee - but he was subdued, somehow. He sighed when he booted up the laptop instead of muttering to himself. The three fluffy mares stretched their rotund bodies and stumpy legs and yawned as the fluorescent lights came on. Their voices were a low chatter as they each chided their foals to relieve themselves over the litterboxes.

“Gud babees… make poopies in witta box! If yu make good poopies, Mummah wiww be pwoud an’ gif bestest huggies!” bleated Muffin. Her two foals cheered and giggled up at her while they hunched over and squeezed themselves empty.

Spring shrank away from James and whinnied when he opened her cage to drop off a scoop of kibble. She neglected to say her usual “Fank’oo” and only shivered as if James was suddenly going to lunge forward and slay her foals. Hazel, who normally stayed out of arm’s reach during feedings, simply sat in the middle of her hutch and cast her eyes down. The nervous mares stayed quiet and watched James pull and clean their hideaway litter boxes and refill their water bottles. The only noise was from the carefree foals, begging for ‘miwkies’ or announcing ‘wub mummah!’

Soon enough, he fished out his venipuncture kit and a sample box and arranged them on the big steel table next to his laptop. Then he did something unusual: He hoisted a two-foot packing crate from where it had sat unnoticed for a week and slammed it home against the door, putting an end to the six-inch gap between the rubber and the rail.

The fluffy ponies stared with sad, trembling eyes as he stalked over to Hazel’s cage and snapped open the front. Hazel whinnied in fear but didn’t struggle as James snagged her by the collar and mane and heaved her out.

In a flash, James had pinned her to the table, folded over yet again with both butt and head pointed into the sink. He jammed two fingers into her pudgy belly, numbing her diaphragm and causing the now-familiar tingling pain all the way out to the tip of her tail. She tried to gasp but nothing came. Tears blurred her eyes so she could barely see her legs kick involuntarily, and then a shudder wracked her whole body. She spewed a gout of shit into the sink, followed by a splatter of urine that pulsed along with her heartbeat.

All three mares were painfully familiar with the pressure-point technique, so they all noticed this new wrinkle: James held on to Hazel after withdrawing his fingertips from her gut. The piebald gagged and began panting, unable to get a full breath because she was still bent over and gripped by the scruff. Fluffy ponies’ barrel abdomens are simply not built to flex. Still, she tried with all her might to gasp, squirm and cry out when James roughly grabbed her left teat.

“Nuh… nuuu! Pweh… pweh…!” She could only bend her neck a bit to look up into his sneering face.

“Uh-oh, you don’t want me to ‘steaw your miwkies,’ huh?” he grated.

“Nuh! Nuh! Fuh… sowweh! Pwea’! Nu!” Tears sprang up in Hazel’s eyes and she looked over at her hutch, five feet away. Her foals were watching in a little clump: The brown earthie was sitting up with her front hooves on the wires, and the two pegasi were hugging each other and crying. As usual. All the other fluffies had silently crowded into the front of their cages, afraid to watch James drain Hazel again but unable to look away. Even Muffin was attentive with a sad look on her maroon teddy-bear face.

“P-p-pwease, nice James… nu take miwkies again. Hazew wiww be gud fwuffy…” pleaded Spring from her anguished crouch. Her nerves were sizzling with the effort of speaking up and arguing with a human.

“Oh, is that right?” James said, scowling down at his captive. “You’re not going to fuck with me today? You’re going to be good?” James let Hazel straighten out her torso a bit so she could answer.

“Yef… yef… huuu….” moaned Hazel “pwease nu take miwkies… gud…”

“I’m glad to hear it, because today you little shits get to run around on the floor and play together. But I’m warning you, if any of you even THINK about running away or breaking anything or pissing me off, I’m going to squeeze every one of you dry and then nobody’s ‘wittew babees’ will get their ‘miwkie nummies.’ You got that?” James’ angry voice sizzled with malice straight into Hazel’s ear. He punctuated his speech by giving her teat and nipple one vicious but controlled squeeze, making droplets of milk shoot out in front of her eyes like a miniature string of pearls.

“Nuuuuuhhhh!” she moaned, wiggling her front hooves as if she could catch the spray and put it back.

“Huuu, nuuuu!” echoed Spring.

“Well? Tell me you’re going to be a good fuckin’ fluffy today.” snarled the human.

“Gud fwuffy! Gud fwuffy! Sowwy! Sowwy!” heaved Hazel.

“Good!” He released her and she rolled over, sobbing and attempting to hug her fleshy udders. She lay there curled up crying and barely seemed to notice when James jabbed his needle into her nape and drew a tiny bead of blood. She only sat up when he whisked away to her hutch.

“Huuu, babees… babees…” she moaned, hugging herself and rocking back and forth as the lab tech returned clutching all three foals in one hand like ben-wa balls. The irrepressible brown earthie filly was squirming and puffing her cheeks and trying to glare up at James, but her attitude changed to fear when he gripped her body lengthwise and lined up his needle.

“Mummah! Hewp babees! Mummah! Scawedies!” it cried, and then “Wheep! Wheeeeep!” when James drew blood. He dropped the little foal on the steel where it hobbled and slipped its way towards Hazel, leaving a tiny spot of milky shit. James got busy with the green pegasus, and then the blue.

“Huu, owwies! Nu wike!”

“Wheeep! Mummah! Owwies!”

In a trice, James had his blood samples and the little family of fluffy ponies was dumped on the chilly tile floor.

“Why mummah nu hewp? Nu hewp babees? Huu, huu!”

“Sowwy, babees. Mummah sowwy…”

Muffin was next. For once, she grew afraid before James was done opening her hutch, and she toddled about in an effort to flee. However, there was nowhere to run. She was dragged out tail-first and clapped on the table.

“Huu, scawy! Nu wike! Nu gif huu-kkk!” she honked before James squashed her down and pressed his fingers into the pressure point in her belly. The burgundy-over-mauve mare gagged and convulsed as her body dumped her bladder and colon.

“Okay, dumbass fluff, you get what we’re doing today? Blood samples, then you get to run around on the floor, get it?”

“Heggh… megggh…” her cute face twisted into an expression of witless surprise as her lungs started to burn.

“Now don’t do anything fuckin’ stupid!” he snarled, pulling his fingers out of her belly and flicking her briskly on the snout. She hooted in pain, and flopped over crying and gasping just like Hazel had. James fetched her foals and racked up three more blood samples before dropping her and her brood down onto the floor as well, then elaborately shoving them away with his toe.

“Your turn, scaredy-fluff.” he growled through the bars of Spring’s cage. The lavender mare had gotten over this morning’s rebellious streak, and her navy blue wings flapped in eagerness to stay in James’ good graces.

“Yus. Spwing nu be bad. Nice mistew. Sowwy.” she said in low, breathy tones. She kept her eyes shut while James forcibly emptied her guts, and gritted her flat teeth while he ruthlessly collected his tribute of blood. Two of her foals chirped under the needle, but the third - the sandy-colored unicorn - only made a tiny wheezing noise.

James clumped over to his chair and settled in, but he was obviously keeping one eye on the trio of wooly little critters and their octet of foals.

The fluffies were bewildered. Muffin had just stopped crying and trying to hug herself after James dropped her from hip high. When Spring waddled forward and wrapped her porky front legs around Hazel’s torso, the feral mare was overcome. She fell forward and jammed both front hooves into her eyes.

“Huu, huuu, Hazew nu haf huggies fo wongest… wa…fwom hewd…huuu!” she sobbed.

“Muffin wike huggies! Gif huggies to fwiends!” burbled the two-tone mare as she waddled up and clumsily embraced both the others. For once, her dopey cheerfulness seemed to relax Hazel. “Wook at Muffin’s babees! Muffin haf bestest pwettiest babees evew!” Like a proud toddler on Christmas, Muffin awkwardly scooped up her orange pegasus foal and thrust it at Spring. It peeped uncomfortably and flapped its miniature yellow wings until Spring gathered it to her chest and nuzzled it.

“Yu a pwetty babee! Hewwo, pwetty babee!” she said quietly. The orange foal giggled and bashfully stuck its hoof in its mouth.

Hazel dried her tears and was gaping at the image of a half-dozen foals bumbling about and giggling at each other. It was a happy scene like she hadn’t witnessed since before her capture. Her big brown earthie was prancing around with a serious look on her face, bumping playfully into the other foals and rearing her pudgy body up. It was too much for Muffin’s red unicorn - the smallest foal in the lab, with a tiny grey nub of a horn - and it toppled over onto its cotton-ball rump and started peeping.

“Mummah! Scawy! Scawy!”

“Huu, mummah hewe, babee! Nu haf scawies!” Muffin shuffled over and flopped down to hug her frightened offspring to her jowl. “Nuu, babees… odda babees nu am scawy. Am gud babees.” she soothed. The foal was so upset it dribbled out a spot of urine onto its mother’s creamy purple belly-fluff. The brown filly was regretfully worried and came up to nuzzle and console the frightened puffball creature and coo at it.

“Babee wuv babee. Sowwy fo’ scawedies! Babee gif wuvvies an’ petties, widdwe pointy babee.”

James had been watching the fluffies bumble around and chatter at each other, but he had enough at this point and pulled his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. “Christ, I hate these things,” he growled to nobody in particular.

The little biopets began to play in the way of their engineered species. They babbled to each other and embraced, and began to waddle around in circles playing silly games. The foals would frolic together and then shuffle over to their mothers to nurse, then squeak and waddle about together again. Muffin, in particular, was thrilled to have an audience. Soon she was rolling on her back, flashing the oval of mauve fluff on her belly. Nearly the whole gaggle of foals was surrounding her, giggling and peeping as they tried to grab hold of her wiggling legs.

“Hee! Muffin wuv babees! Babees fo’ pway! Hee-hee!”

There was a holdout, however. Spring’s smallest was a khaki unicorn with an umber horn on its brow the size of a tic-tac. Instead of joining the noisy bumbling, it was creeping towards its mother with a worried expression. It swayed on its peg-legs, and then its little dumpling body rocked with a pair of sneezes - p’chew! p’chew! - and toppled over. It pissed itself, causing a dark stain to roll over its back legs and pool on the tile.

“Huuu, mummah! Nee’ mummah!”

“Mummah hewe, babee! Nu wowwy!” panted Spring. The familiar, haunted look in her eyes returned as she toddled up, gently pinched the foal’s nape, and plunked down on her rump to cradle it in her forehooves.

“Coo… coooo… why babee nu haf happies? Pwetty babee, mummah wuv!” Spring purred, gently nuzzling the fuzzy little thing. Her wings flapped in worry.

“Huu, nu wike.” The foal squirmed and tried to jam its blunt nose into its mother’s armpit. It made a tiny snorting noise and then sneezed again, - p’chew! - making Spring jump. Then it went limp, breathing through its mouth. It gulped and let out a peep.

“Babee wan’ miwkies?” she asked hopelessly. Letting her foals nurse was usually a panacea, but this time her little unicorn only squirmed and whined. “Huu, babee… pwease nu haf sickies. Cooo, cooooo…” She lost track of everything else in the room as concern and dread eclipsed her mind.

James had spaced out, too. At first, he stretched his neck to glare at the little flock every time the noise level rose, but his focus gradually slipped to his textbook. The noise reached a crescendo as the fluffies tired themselves out over the course of an hour. Once Hazel got over her initial turmoil she was happy to stretch her stumpy legs, but she could tell she was sore from her repeated misadventures. In fact, her head was swimming and her sinuses began to feel chapped. Because of these distractions, everyone was caught by surprise when a foal cried out in pain, silencing Muffin’s noisy babbling.

“Wheep! Wheeeep!” came the shriek, then a rapid chirps, like a finch. Hazel’s head whipped around - she instantly recognized the voice of her smaller pegasus filly. By the time she toddled about to look, Muffin had backed a few paces away from where the injured fingerling lay on the tile.

“Whu… wha happen?” It made Hazel’s body tingle to see the navy blue foal lying on its back with its eyes squeezed shut and stubby forelegs apart, rocking back and forth, reaching for something to cling to. One of its rear legs was extended, struggling for balance, but the other was resting on the chill tile and was obviously crooked. “Wha happen tu babee!?” she said, her voice going shrill.

An uncomfortable pout came to Muffin’s face. She was awkwardly backing up in a crouch while trying to herd her two foals away from the scene. The floor was marked with spiraling trails of urine punctuated by small beads of shit, like a Pollack painting. Heedless, Hazel tracked right through it and bent to face her stricken offspring. Her other two huddled together nearby.

“Huuu, Muffin sowwy! Muffin wa’ pway wif babees… an’ wa’ pway jumpy game… an’ wittew babees faww down… huuu, nu mean tu gif owwies!” bleated the purple-bellied mare. Her guilty manner told the whole story in a flash.

“Yuh… yu hewt babee? YU huwt BABEE?!” Just as quick, Hazel bristled and rounded on Muffin. She felt a flare of anger more fierce than her need to soothe her crying foal, like all the frustration and pain of the past three days finally boiled her brains. A ridiculous snarl pushed her fluffy cheeks out, and she gathered her legs into launch position.

“Huu, Muffin sowwy! Nu wike angwies! Nu mean tu huwt - NUUU!” was all Muffin had time for before Hazel hurled herself forward and butted her at the shoulder, shoving her body sideways like a blimp in a stiff wind. Muffin’s hooves couldn’t keep pace, and she toppled.

Fluffy ponies are badly designed for fighting, but they’re not all in the same league. Hazel was a feral, a veteran of clownish but tearful little scraps to establish the herd’s loose pecking order. Muffin, on the other hand, had never so much as shoved another fluffy in anger. She found herself turned turtle in no time, squeezing her tail between her back legs. Hazel stood over her, weaving back and forth looking for a chance to strike with a hoof or nip some fluff in her teeth. She reared up, trying to keep her face away from the fracas while jabbing her front hooves down.

“Yu huwt babee! Dummeh poopies nu huwt babees! Hazel haychoo! Gif owwies! HAYCHOO!” The brown-and-white mare’s cartoon voice was rasping, and she would pause in her stomping and butting to squeeze her eyes shut and cough. She was crying, too, and found herself unable to stop swatting and butting even though her victim was in surrender.

“Huuu! Nu huwties! Nu huwties! Huuu, sowwies! Nu wike! Nu wike!” howled Muffin, trying to protect her face with her front hooves. She was pissing into her own tail, and her lip was split bloody on the side of her stubby snout. The anger in Hazel’s amethyst eyes scared her - somehow it was more fearful than being hurt by the awesome strength of an angry human. She couldn’t conceive of fluffy ponies attacking each other in rage, but here it was. She squealed like a piglet and then let out a pained chirp that drew out into a squawk.

“WHAT IN THE FUCK?” thundered James as he rounded the table and stooped over the brawling biopets. His appearance broke Hazel out of her blind fury, and the little creature’s face sagged into a stupid gape of surprise and terror. She scuttled backwards but trod on her own tail, and James instantly shot her a stiff, short kick to the midsection. The frenzied mare slid a foot on her soft fluff and banged into the pedestal of a nearby cabinet. Three rapid chirps popped out of her mouth as pain shot up and down her spine. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” the human hollered, waving his hand helplessly at the stricken little foal and nearby dribbles of urine.

“Huuu, sowwy! MUFFIN SOWWY! Nu mean tu huwt babbeeehhh!” screeched Muffin as she finally uprighted her chubby body and caught her breath. The volley of noise from the floor slapped James in the face, and his hands tingled with confused urges. Finally, he settled on snatching up Muffin as the loudest offender and her two foals as the next nearest. The reddish mare’s squealing dopplered away in a whoosh. Hazel gasped and tried to climb to her feet, but she was in cruel pain from the belly-kick and her hindquarters were numb from a blow to the spine. The world went blurry as she burst into tears, and snot finally clogged her nose completely.

Hazel’s brave brown earthie took James’ absence as a chance to shuffle forward and awkwardly hug the injured blue pegasus. Its shrill cries were growing weaker, and it had smeared up some of the stray feces. This didn’t seem to please James on his return either. He cuffed the brown filly away and gingerly lifted the pegasus by its nape. It feebly tossed its head, left rear leg obviously crooked while the other three wobbled about.

“Nuh… pwease… huuu, babee huwties!” moaned Hazel as she humped closer. She chirped in agony again as James snatched her up by the collar, then once more as she was roughly hurled into her cage. No matter how much she wanted to help her foal, the deep, searing pain laid her out, wiggling her legs while fighting for breath and sobbing.

“Jesus fucking christ,” James growled as he peered at the foal’s leg. His mind was racing faster and faster - beyond his anger and exasperation, the thought of what Doctor Frank would have to say about this calamity was making his teeth grind. Trying to escape was one thing, but he simply hadn’t considered his charges finding a way to hurt each other on an empty tile floor. This was a serious, obvious injury. The crippled colt had finally grown too tired to chirp and only curled up and shivered when set down on a towel. “Fuck. Fuck. Goddamn it.” He snatched up his cellphone and began tapping fiercely at the screen.

Spring sat bewildered on the floor. Her two wayward foals had waddled over at the first burst of noise and buried their cute, crying faces in her fluff while she cradled their coughing sibling. Then one of them sneezed and started whining.

Panic squeezed the purple pegasus’ chest. Rallying her courage, she took the limp foal in her mouth and toddled towards James. Just then, he started making a godawful racket with a mop bucket and swearing to himself, startling the fluffy so bad she flinched and nearly dropped her foal.

“Huuu! Huuu, huuu!” she found herself bawling. “Nu moaw scawies! Pwease hewp fwuffy, huuu! Hewp babee! Babee sickieeees!”

“Jesus! Forgot about you.” barked James, his blood pressure spiking for the fourth time that day. He dropped the mop handle with a clatter and hot-stepped to stoop over the wretched little family.

“Pwease, mistew, babees haf sickies!” sounded Spring, plunking back onto her haunches and hoisting the sickly unicorn up like a Madonna.

“Uh-huh.” James grunted, snagging her collar without missing a beat. She was thrown into her cage along with her sick foal, and her other two were dropped off before she could waddle around. The cage door shut. Two cages down, Hazel had come to her senses and was wobbling on three legs in the front of her hutch.

“Huuu, nice mistew… pwease gif babee? Pwease gif hewties babee tu mummah?” begged the brown and white mare in a phlegmy voice. Her fluffy sides blimped out as she took a deep breath, then coughed. “Pwease wet mumma… huuu, haf babee…?”

“Shut the fuck up!” James bellowed, lashing out and smashing his palm flat against the wires. All three cages banged and rattled, and every fluffy winced and ducked. The room went silent except for muffled sobbing, the wet slapping sound of the mop head and the occasional squeaky, fluffy-sized cough or sneeze. That is, until the injured little pegasus on the table returned to consciousness.

“Wheep! Wheeep!” it squalled. “Mummah! Hewties! Owwies! Mummah!” Its mother jerked to her hooves like she was on strings, forgetting her various injuries for a second.


“Ok, I know you’re upset,” gritted James, who had benefited from some vigorous mopping, “I know you don’t like me, but I am going to try to fix your foal… okay? You know I’m supposed to keep you shitrats alive, right? So you have to trust me on this.” The human leaned over and glared at Hazel with fiery eyes, “And you have to SHUT! UP!”

Hazel crumpled to the carpet, weeping. Another chirp sounded from the table, and she shuddered and tried to cover her tufted ears with her hooves. It was just as well - she was utterly drained of energy, and her sinuses were running.

“Huu, pwease, babee… huuu, gif…Hakk

Just as James dumped the mop bucket into the sink, the door swung open and revealed Marcus, dressed as normal in khaki scrubs and a wide, glittering grin.

“DADDEEEEEHHH!” shrieked Muffin, who reared up and banged her front hooves against the wire. James’ face contorted with rage - he was relieved that Marcus answered his call for help, but he was just about at the end of his rope. Snarling in rage, he ripped the front of Muffin’s cage down and lashed out for her throat.

“DADDEEE-HKKK!” Her next cry was cut off as James fastened two fingers and a thumb around the burgundy fluffy’s stump of a neck. Instantly throttled, she planted her legs rigidly on the carpet and tried to back up, but James dragged her forward again, squeezing the blood in her head and face and making a scrunched-up fluff blossom out of her face.

“Holy shit, am I glad to see you.” James breathed, obviously struggling for calm. “These fucking things, man.”

Marcus sauntered up to the table. “Ohhh, James, James, James!” he chuckled. “Your lab is a prison riot! A fluffy prison riot! You need to get it together!”

“Are you going to shut the fuck up if I let you go?” he glared down at Muffin’s face. Her attention was focused on starting to asphyxiate, but she snapped out of it and managed to focus her sad eyes on him. He let go.

“Huuuuuu…” she flopped to the carpet and heaved, then promptly began coughing and snorting. Mucus dripped from her snout.

“Ha! Shit!” said Marcus when he caught sight of the crippled foal. It had managed to spray a thimbleful of watery shit onto the towel before passing out again. The broken limb had begun to swell up and resembled a bent pepper more than a broken twig. “What happened here?”

“Christ… Ok, so fuckin’ Doctor Hopkins tells me he wants the fluffs to run around and play together.” He trailed off when Marcus dramatically raised a hand to his mouth and chucked into it.

“WHEN… are you going to LEARN… to stop doing what the doctors tell you?”

“Yeah. I guess never. Anyway, next thing I know, this DUMB FUCK-” James’ anger flared and he pointed a threatening finger at Muffin “Fuckin’ breaks this one’s leg-!” then at the blue pegasus foal “And this one jumps on her and starts kicking her ass.” Finally, he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Hazel.

The wild mare was slumped in the front of her hutch, clearly out of gas. She was favoring her rear left leg, and her two healthy-ish foals had crept up to nestle at her belly. All increasingly sick, exhausted, afraid and crying, they couldn’t seem to offer each other much comfort. Hazel tried to watch the humans, but kept shuddering in pain and rocking her body back and forth, trying to ease the throbbing from her injuries. Her eyes were pools of tears that popped open fearfully when her colt sneezed a wad of electric green phlegm out onto the carpet.

“Doc Frank was already on my ass about getting rough with these things. Now they’re fucking each other up.” fretted James, lifting his glasses and rubbing his own tired eyes.

“Hmmm, yeah, yeah….” murmured Marcus, now holding the foal up by its scruff. It could only wobble its head back and forth, and only made a hoarse ‘ekk!’ sound when he nudged the broken limb back and forth. “This used to happen before we put carpet in the cages. Every tenth goober would get a greenstick fracture. Well, if this was long-term, I’d say cut the leg off at the break and toast it. Doesn’t take long to heal up. But that’s no good for you, yeah?”

James was able to calm down and start thinking again. “Yeah. The schedule goes another two or three days max. I mean, fuck the fluffies, but I genuinely don’t want to compromise the test. Or have Dr. Hugbox Asshole come in and demand to know where the little shit’s leg went.”

“Well, then let’s splint it.”

“Splint it?”

“Yeah! Ain’t you ever break your arm? We get two sticks, line them up on the bone, and… hmm, you got anything besides scotch tape?”

“I think… maybe I do!” said James, cheerfully warming to the idea. He peeled off to rummage in some drawers. While he was gone, Marcus took the chance to look the fluffy dams and their broods over. Spring had been waiting for a chance to talk to him.

“Nice mistew?” she asked sheepishly, keeping her ears flat and barely peeking up at Marcus’ dark eyes, “Nice mistew? Pwease? Pwease hewp widdwe pointy babees?” She was cradling the woozy colt and periodically trying to lick the dribbling snot from his nose. “Babee haf sickies… huu, aww babees haf sickies… pwease hewp pwetty babees. Spwing wiww be gud fwuffy. Nu wan’ babees tu haf foweva sweepies.”

“Yeah, got sick, huh?” chuckled the tall man. “Don’t you worry, I’m sure Doc Hopkins’ magic potion will fix him right up.”

“Buh,” mumbled Spring, “Doctow say he gif fwuffies sickies…”

“Huuu! DADDEEEEH! DADDEEEH!” squealed Muffin from next door. She had reared up again, flashing the creamy purple oval on her belly and her bulging crotchboobs.

The human dismissed Spring: “Yeah, but BEFORE that, he gave you stuff to KEEP you from getting sick!” and turned away. A desperate frustration was growing in Spring’s chest, making her unconsciously mutter and flap her wings. She only understood some of Marcus’ deadly indifference and cheerful sarcasm, and it made her feel like the walls of her hutch were crushing her skull. A tiny peep escaped her lips, echoed a second later by the sick colt cradled in her fuzzy forelimbs. This brought her attention back from outer space, but she could do nothing but cry into her cheek fluff.

“Nu foweva sweepies, wittah babee. Mummah wuv yu. Pwease nu. Huuuuu.” The lavender mare breathed in her foal’s scent like it was precious incense.

“DADDEEEH! Huuuu, pwease, be daddeh fo’ Muffin! Nu wike stupit pwace, huu, huu! Fwuffies aww meanies! HAF TO GE’ OUT! WAN’ DADDEH!” A screechy nasal tone crept up in the fluff’s voice. Wild-eyed, she quivered and panted whlie Marcus unsnapped the door.

“Oh, Muffin, Muffin! I was going to be your daddy!”

“Huu… pwease…”

“I was going to scoop your dumb ass up and give you all the huggies in the world…” crooned the senior tech, gently grasping Muffin by the armpits and lifting her out the front of her hutch. The body went pear-shaped in midair, but she couldn’t take her soggy eyes off the man and just gurgled, hypnotized.

“Huuu… huggies…”

“I was going to put you in a nice nestie and give you treats to num-num-num!”

“Nummies… wan’…”

“All daddies want to take good fluffies home and give them toys and love them…”

“Huu, pwease… Muffin wan’ daddeh…”

A foot above the table, Muffin finally caught on to the dangerous glint in Marcus’ eye, and right on cue he wrapped his strong hand around the back of her skull like a softball pitcher about to serve up. He smacked the mare’s body flat onto the steel. One of her legs was caught underneath, and flashed white-hot with pain. The impact was stupendous. She tried to scream, but only came up with a goat-like “MEEEGGHH!”

“But then you fucked up this foal, Muffin! You fuckin’ fucked up this foal! You hurt a little baby! You’re the worst fluffy ever!” Marcus started barking very loudly directly into the fluffy’s ear. “Nobody is ever going to love a baby-stomper! NO DADDY FOR YOU! EVER!”

Muffin gasped, squirming with all her might to free her leg and recover from the slap of her belly, udders and face on the table. She could just barely make out the broken-legged foal on the towel, eight inches in front of her face. With Marcus yelling into her ear, her mind simply ground to a halt and she let out a shrill whinny.

“No daddy wants a foal-stomper! No daddy wants a bad fluffy! No daddy wants you! YOU DONE FUCKED UP A FOAL, MUFFIN! YOU BROKE A BABY!”

“Ek - ek - egh - hkkk…”

“Nobody will ever be your daddy, Muffin! How do you like that?”

Marcus let go and she rolled off her trapped forelimb into a fetal position, moaning. Marcus cackled like a kid who had just set off a firework. James cleared his throat and waved a roll of clear plastic packing tape once, twice, and then tossed it over.

“Good! Now, get a couple of those paper clips. Fix this foal right up.”

“If you say so.”


OH HE doesn’t want to compromise it? TOO Late when he keeps bringing Marcus in encouraging Muffin’s stupidity and beating the hell out of them. And making it so Havels foals don;t properly get fed.


Given how incompetent this lab is I assume they were the ones in charge of the coronavirus vaccine


…Marcus needs to get canned… He is definitely an instigator, and an agitator… He’s gonna mess.everything up, and James is gonna end up getting sacked too because of Marcus…


I think the 2 feuding fluffies need to be drained of milkies and denied of nummies for at least 12 hours


I cannot get over how much I love this series so far. Dildofarmer <3


I think James is doing plenty enough on his own to get fired without Marcus. After all, the test is to see if antibodies come through milk to foals… and this dumbass stole Hazel’s milk.


Forgot about that detail… Plus the blood in milk… Wouldn’t that be signs of internal injuries?

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