NexTech Bio-Industries parts 3 and 4 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
3 Vital Statistics

At four past nine, the door to the lab banged open and James slouched through, hefting a backpack and a large coffee. He slapped the lightswitch, and while the lights were humming and flickering, he booted up the laptop. He was wearing a pair of white earbuds jacked into his phone, and their strings wiggled as he nodded his head in time with the music.

The dams came awake. Spring, the lilac-colored mare with three foals, and Muffin, the burgundy one in the middle cage, had curled up against the bars next to one another. Their hutches were exposed in the middle of the room, and they instinctively sought out a way to share warmth in the midst of the chilly, shiny lab. Hazel, the piebald brown earth pony, was hunkered down against the rear corner of her cage with her tail laid over her clutch of three foals.

All three mares blinked adorably and yawned in the sudden light, sticking out their pink tongues, but only Muffin rose up and walked to the front of her hutch. She looked down at James sadly while her foals peeped and hugged each other in the rapidly-fading warm spot.

“Mistew?” she called. He didn’t answer. “Mistew? Say hewwo tu fwuffy??” She was bewildered to be waking up in this place for the first time and found that she couldn’t tear her eyes off the human, but he was ignoring her. A peeping noise made her turn. Spring had corralled her foals into the corner of her hutch where the carpet had been cut away to reveal the litter box. The lavender pegasus was speaking to her foals quietly.

“Gud babees… make gud poopies… nu, babees… haf to stay in poopie pwace….” she murmured, gently pushing her foals back when they tried to toddle off the grate. One of them hunched up and shit out a miniature green-brown log, which fell down through the cage into the litter with a smacking sound. Spring cooed at her foal, and then reached out to gently shove its butt against the grate. “Gud babees! Otay babees… make poopie pwace cwean… make wubbies wif poopie pwace…” she whispered.

Muffin looked at her own two foals, huddled together where she had been sleeping a minute ago. One of them had already shit on the carpeted floor, and that both were chirping and crying a little. On the other side, Hazel had moved so she could keep an eye on James and then curled up with her tail over her still-snoozing brood. She glanced at Muffin briefly and then turned her attention back to the human.

James sucked in a great breath and yawned, stretching his arms before heaving himself up to his feet and popping the earbuds out of his ears. It was time for him to get busy, so he started pulling things out of the boxes and stacks of gear: A digital grocer’s scale, a measuring tape, a notebook, and various other items.

“Mistew… mistew say hewwo tu fwuffy? Be nice to fwuffy? Be nyu daddeh?” squalled Muffin as soon as she noticed the human stirring.

“Yeah, let me see your foals.” rasped James.

“Mistew wan’ pway wif babees? Muffin haf bestest, pwettiest babees!” The wine-colored biopet bumbled around and picked up her red foal by the nape of its neck. Her species couldn’t turn around quickly, so James had time to unsnap both latches on top of her cage and fold down the front wall. He reached out and took the foal from her as soon as it was visible.

She gaped up at him for a second in surprise, but a timid happiness kept growing in her mind.

“Mistew pway wif gud babees? Pway wif fwuffy an’ give huggies an’ wuv?”

“Give me the other one, too.” he said, gesturing at her with his left hand.

Muffin’s doubts didn’t manifest until she had laboriously chugged back around and fetched her second foal, the dull orange one with a tiny set of wings. The human’s long arm and strong hand easily broke her grip on her foal’s scruff, and away he turned.

“Muh… mistah? Whewe babees? Yu pway wif babees?” Muffin waddled up to the front of her hutch, looking out the open front face, but when she neared the edge she could see down to the linoleum floor and the sudden yawning expanse made her dizzy. This only fed her growing sense of panic, because Muffin hadn’t been separated from her foals since they were born. “Mistew? mistew? Gif babees? Babees nee’ mummah!”

“Shut up.” said James in a low, irritable tone. He put the foals down on the table, where they huddled together like a fuzzy island in the middle of a stainless steel sea, surrounded by an armada of tools, boxes, and notebooks. They were cold, and started making dissonant little chirping and squeaking noises in their distress. Muffin couldn’t stand it.

“Nuuu! Wha yu du wif babees? Babees fo’ huggies an’ pway! Gif babees to mummah! Gif babees!” Muffin grew more and more agitated watching the man’s back as he plunked her red foal down on the grocer’s scale. It stared up at him with frightened green eyes and tried to stand, but he toppled it with one finger and then recorded its weight on the laptop. When he wrapped the measuring tape around its plump belly, it closed its eyes and tried to nurse on his finger, making uncertain little cooing noises. It switched back to distressed chirping when he pinned a stethoscope against its abdomen.

Meanwhile, the subject’s orange brother had clambered weakly to its feet and was trying to flee. It slipped on the metal every time it tried to hop, so progress was slow along the four-inch curb around the table. Straining mightily, it could poke its recently-opened eyes just over the rim and glimpse its mother’s maroon silhouette.

“Wheep! Chirp! Chirp!” cried the foal.

Seeing her colt pop up and cry in distress was too much for Muffin to bear. “BABEE! WIDDWE BAAAABEEEH! YU GIF BABEE TO FWUFFY!” she howled, bouncing on her hooves hard enough to rattle the hutches together. “MEANIE MAN NU HUWT BABEE! GIF BABEE TO MUMMAH!”

James had been ignoring her pleading fairly well, but he still had the stethoscope plugged into his ears when she shouted. He spun to face Muffin’s hutch, his face a snarl that made the anxious fluffy cringe and whinny in fright. She didn’t think about trying to back away until he had already snapped her cage open and it was too late.

TOK! With one knuckle extended from his fist, he rapped her skull right on top of the swollen, sore lump he had put there the previous evening. It felt like a nail being driven into Muffin’s brow. The world spun inside her head, and for a few seconds all she could do was gasp and shudder and try to cover the top of her head with her stumpy front hooves. Eventually she stopped shuddering long enough to cry out.

“Huuuu!!! HUUUUUUUUU!” she bawled, and then snorted deeply in her chest.

“Shut the hell up, I’m warning you.”

“Yu meanie munsta! GIF BABEES! NU GIF OWWIES!!” she yelled up at his face.

Like a flash, his right hand cuffed her sideways and she sprawled onto the cage floor. Huffing and sobbing, she clambered back to her feet just in time for him to crack her another knuckle-pointed blow right on the dome.

TOK!

The fluffy’s eyelids fluttered and her limbs jerked uncontrollably as the pain and clout on her cranium overwhelmed her. Over she slumped, and a wet farting noise rang out as she soiled herself. The fluffy feebly tried to cover her skull again, but she was so dizzy that she just waved her stubby forelimbs around in the air and gasped.

“I told you to stay quiet!”

The fluffy’s sad, scared eyes slowly came to focus on the man again, and she cowered in her cage with her ears flat. She was gritting her teeth trying not to cry out, dribbling tears and snot and huffing to herself. Only a weak whining noise escaped as the now-doubled bruise on her head continued to throb.

“Good! Okay, I’m going to give all you tards a physical today, and you need to stay fucking quiet while I am working. You also don’t tell me what to do, get it? I’ll take your foals away whenever I want. You’ll have them back faster if I don’t have to stop and slap you around.”

He glared down at her through his black-rimmed glasses, but she only cowered in place and shook, afraid to meet his eyes. Satisfied, he turned back to the table and continued his examination. The two foals kept crying and fidgeting as he measured their weight and length and counted their heartbeats against a timer on his smartphone. Muffin huddled in the front of her cage, sobbing, but she knew if she cried or yelled the man would punish her. She looked left and right at the other two mares, who had been watching the performance in silence.

Spring, the creamy violet mare to Muffin’s right, stared for a second and then looked sadly at her trio of foals. They had been upset by the noise and ill vibes and she gently cooed and nuzzled them. The brown and white piebald to Muffin’s left, Hazel, had unobtrusively piled her foals up in the back of her cage and was standing in front of them, glaring at James’ broad back while he worked. Every new peep and chirp from the table clamored in Muffin’s ears, and she stuck her hoof in her mouth and drooled on the leathery edge while she sobbed.

Finally, the tech returned to Muffin’s cage holding both her exhausted, terrified foals in one hand. Muffin couldn’t stop herself from moaning in relief, and she plunked down on her rump and lifted her front hooves up to accept her offspring. She was startled out of her wits when James snagged her collar and hauled her out with his right hand while dumping her foals down with his left.

“NUUUUU-HUUU-HUUUU! NUU UPSIES!! BABEES NEE’ MUMMAAAAAHHH!” she hollered.

James winced at the sudden noise, and deliberately clobbered Muffin against the table edge. She croaked in pain and sprawled helplessly on the burnished steel while he rounded the table like a cranky billiards player. Muffin found herself slung around and rolled over with her ass-end pointing into the sink.

“Nuuu! Nu wike uppy-downies! Nu wike bad uppies! Huu, huu, huuuu - HUUK!!”

The fluffy’s moaning ended in a kind of surprised snort when James drove two stiff fingers from his right fist into the fluffy’s gut, about halfway between her sternum and groin. She tried to gasp, but suddenly realized that she couldn’t breathe in. Even making the attempt hurt very badly right where the human was gouging her in the belly. A keen, numb pain spread out through her whole body. Blood began to pound in her ears.

“I keep telling you to shut the fuck up and let me work, and you just keep yelling like you’re the queen around here.” He growled at her. With her diaphragm paralyzed, the fluffy couldn’t answer and only goggled up at him in fear and squirmed. She ached to breathe in again. Her whole body gave a helpless spasm, and a gout of watery shit spurted out of her asshole and splattered in the sink, followed by a stream of urine.

Muffin started to gag and kick her legs feebly in the air as the man’s fingers stayed buried in her belly, preventing her from drawing breath. Her blood caught fire and darkness began to creep into the edges of her vision with each thud of her starving heart.

Finally, James withdrew his fingers. Muffin tried to suck air in while letting out an agonized howl, making a kind of honking noise. She went limp on her side and began to heave and gasp in as much air as possible, still kicking and twitching her hooves aimlessly. She realized that James was leaned over with his face only a few inches from hers, but she was so weakened she couldn’t move.

“Muh… geh… pwease, nu… nu huwties… nu bweafe…” She began to sob as the terror of suffocation was replaced by conscious pain and fear.

“Fun, huh? I learned that trick from some of the guys in the breeding unit. Called a pressure point.”

“Pwease… huu, sowwy… nu moaw huwt…” groveled the limp burgundy biopet.

“We’ll see, shitrat.” James straightened up and clapped his left hand on Muffin’s rump. With his right, he produced a thin, gleaming glass tube - a thermometer. He knocked her tail out of the way and shoved the thermometer into her anus without a second’s hesitation.

“HUUUUU! NUUUUU! DAT POOPIE PWACE! NU-AKKK!” The fluffy screeched with everything she had left as James deliberately jammed the thermometer home a few degrees to starboard. The little biopet slipped into raw panic, slapping all four hooves uselessly against the tabletop and making guttural squeals and whining sounds deep in her chest. She tried to empty her colon and bladder, but she had nothing left after James’ pressure-point treatment. The stocky tech let go of the thermometer and lightly slapped the fluffy’s head right on the swollen spot on her brow - this time, the blow was flat and stiff enough to bounce her chin off the table.

“Stop yelling!”

Muffin’s whole body jerked once and went limp. Near witless, she snorted and gagged as she desperately tried to bear the pain in her skull and ass without crying out. Huddled in a little magenta heap with her eyes rolled up, she offered no further resistance as James recorded her temperature, but she chirped involuntarily when he jabbed a needle into the scruff of her neck and drew a drop of blood, then moaned when he snatched her up and plopped her on the grocer’s scale.

“Stay still!”

Once his hands were off her, she plucked up the courage to look up at him. Her emerald eyes were full of fear, but somehow she found the courage to sit up and hold her front hooves out towards him in a plaintive gesture.

“P-p-pwease… gif huggies? Pwease gif hu-hu-huggies tu muh-muh-Muffin? Muffin sowwy!” she said in a choked gurgle.

The human snorted and shook his head.

“Even for a fluffy, christ.”

The scale had result, so James snagged the fluffy by her mane again. She tried to wrap her front hooves around his wrist, but he was too quick. Muffin was treated to another gut-sloshing swing through the air, ending in a bang as James clapped her bodily against Hazel’s cage, face-first.

“Nuuu! Huwties! Bad uppsies!” she moaned. Her foals had been huddling together in the middle hutch, but now that they could see their mother they began to peep and cry out for her.

“Okay, now tell your little friend you’re a bad fluffy,” snarled James, glaring at Hazel.

“Huu, sowwy! Sowwy fo bad fwuffy!” Muffin gargled as she squirmed against the bars. She couldn’t budge James’ arm an inch and his grip on her mane and collar was starting to throttle her.

“Tell her she better stay quiet when it’s her turn,” said James in a growl.

“Nuh… nuh… am bad fwuffy! Nu be woud! Nu make noisies! Sowwy!” she cried, and then began to chirp rhythmically. Hazel had leapt to her feet when James slammed Muffin against her cage, and was now crouched in front of her foals, her alert posture and furrowed brow somehow comical on such an absurdly cute creature.

“That’s right! Fluffies don’t fuckin’ yell at me! Good fluffy!”

James tossed Muffin into her hutch where the stressed burgundy mare fell into a boneless heap and began to sob. Her foals crawled and pop-hopped over, but James intercepted the red one.

“Wheeeeeep!”

“Now, let’s see what happens when you shit in your cage.” smirked the lab tech.

Pinching the chirping foal in his fingers, he ground its back into Muffin’s puddle of shit like a man scraping soup up with a crust of bread. Once finished, he wiped the globs of shit off the slimy abductee onto its mother’s snout. The mare flinched and made a bleating noise, but only opened her eyes for a second before shaking and crying into her hooves again.

James opened Hazel’s hutch. He peered in at the piebald fluffy mare, who seemed to be breathing a little hard and had her cheeks puffed out. “Your turn, Ugly. Give me your foals.”

“Nu!” she scoffed, and stomped a hoof against the carpet remnant. “Nu take babees!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Didn’t you see what happened to Stupid here?” James nodded at Muffin.

“Weave babees awone! Wet fwuffy gu!” she barked at him. It was a weird contrast between the cute chiming of her voice and the anger in her jewel-like violet eyes. Her pudgy, fluff-coated body was tense.

“Look, dumbass, I need to do a physical on you and your foals, and you’ll get them back faster and be a lot happier if you ju - oh, for christ’s sake!” The man interrupted himself and rolled his eyes when he realized he was negotiating with a fluffy pony.

When he reached in, Hazel bumbled around and lashed out at the red plastic food dish with both hind hooves. It popped free of its clips and bounced clear out the front of the cage. James was so taken aback that he just goggled at the little biopet while she shoved her foals further into the corner and stood defiantly in front of them. Next door, Muffin started sobbing again and scuttled away from the action until she bumped into the far wall.

James blinked a few times as sizzling anger built up in the back of his mind. Without another word, he leaned forward and reached deep into the hutch with his right hand. His aim was to snag Hazel by the mane and collar and drag her out, but she had been watching him manhandle Muffin and was ready. With a quickness rare in her species, she ducked out of the way and clamped her flat teeth on James’ finger for a riposte.

“Hey!”

He immediately snatched his hand back. The dam’s bite was a pinch at worst and this time had only left a small red mark on James’ ring finger, but it was enough to get his hand out of the hutch. It was also enough to completely infuriate him.

Hazel took this moment to wheel around again, but instead of kicking she lifted her tail and squirted a half-pint of burbling shit out the pink ring of her asshole, waving her haunches back and forth to make a fan-shaped spray in front of the dumbstruck lab worker.

“Gif you poopies! Poopies dummeh hooman! NU TAKE BABEES!” she snapped.

“That’s it! You fuckin’ bitch!” he roared. He planted his left hand on top of the cage for leverage and lunged forward with a swift right jab. Hazel snarled and opened her jaw to bite again, but James was too quick and popped her square on the muzzle, toppling her backwards over her roly-poly belly and bulging, hairless teats. Once he had clamped his hand on her throat the game was up. Her hooves scuffed the carpet flooring mightily as she was dragged out the front of the hutch by her neck, grinding her shit into the carpet in the process. James half-turned and chucked the fluffy towards the exam table.

Hazel still hadn’t caught her breath after the sharp blow to her snout, so all she could manage was a sort of plaintive squawking noise in midair before she crashed onto the metal tabletop and biffed into the grocer’s scale. James had plenty of time to lay hands on the yardstick and whip it up into the air like a fencing foil.

The fluffy dam was scrabbling to her feet but her leathery hoof pads couldn’t get traction, making her resemble a living cartoon character more than she usually did. James brought the yardstick snapping down on her back with a lot of wrist and just a little elbow.

WHAP!

“WHEEEP!”

Hazel was trying to be tough and brave, but when James struck her, she let out a cry of pain and her back legs kicked out. She also lost control of her bowels and sprayed a spurt of urine onto the table, dousing the fringe of her thrashing tail. James cursed and swung the stick down again in a chopping motion.

WHAP!

“WHEEEP! WHEEEEP!”

James smacked her on the spine as she was turning to get away from him, then smacked her on the flank when she stumbled into a plastic toolbox. She waddled away, sobbing through clenched teeth and crying into her brown cheek fluff, but promptly collided with the four-inch steel curb running the edge of the table. She took her weeping eyes off the pissed-off lab tech long enough to look down at the floor. Big mistake. Her head swam with vertigo and she was suddenly gripped with a terror of slipping over the edge - the floor looked a hundred feet away. She moaned and slewed her head around just in time to get smashed on the ear by the whizzing end of the yardstick.

WHACK!

“Nuuuuhhh - HAAAAAHHH!”

Hazel toppled over, head down and covered behind her stubby front hooves the best she could manage. Her ear felt like it had been crushed between two stones - it was throbbing and surging with pain and her skull was rattling.

“Nuuuuhhhhkkkkk… nuuuunnnnggghh!”

WHAPP! James took a step around the table to where the fluffy was cowering and whipped the yardstick flat down onto her ribs. This time, the fluffy let out a sharp, loud chirp. She flopped over, hooves and tail up, and started begging. James stepped into reach and struck again.

“BIGGES’ OWWIES! PWEASE NU MOAW! PWEASE NU MOAW HUWTIES!”

SMACK!

“You fucking shitrat!”

“PWEASE STAHP! PWEASE NU MOAW! SOWWY!”

CRACK!

Hazel chirped again when James shoved her across the exam table and right over the lip of the sink. She hit bottom with a dull dinging noise, jamming both her left legs badly. She rolled to a stop and lay there moaning and shuddering, almost completely overwhelmed.

James knew that the sink was too deep and slippery for a fluffy to climb out, so he took a few seconds to slide his boxes and scales out of the way and then yanked the sprayer hose off its overhead mount. He gave the puddle of fluffy shit on the exam table a good blast with the hose, washing it over the edge of the sinkwell. The hissing noise startled the battered little creature, but she completely panicked when a cascade of cold water mixed with her own waste suddenly rained down on her head and back. She began to run senselessly around the bottom of the sink, slipping every second or third step and bonking blindly into the grey metal walls.

“Nnnnnuuuhhhh! HUUUU! HUUUUUU! NU WA-WA! NU WIKE! HUUUU!”

Hazel’s moans and wails rang out weirdly from the bottom. Water and flecks of her own shit had splattered into her left eye, but she was shaking too badly to lift a hoof to rub it. The ache from her jammed limbs was ebbing away but the blunt trauma from the yardstick was throbbing more and more, and she was now chilled to the bone. She had barely managed to quell her panting and sobbing in time for the next dose of bad news: the unmistakable sound of her foals chirping and peeping in fear.

Hazel reared up against the side of the sink, but at maximum stretch could just barely poke her head over the rim. When she caught sight of her three foals - one dark brown, one splotchy blue-on-blue and one pine-needle green - she started shouting and frantically trying to shove herself up and over with her back legs. No dice. Next she tried hooking her hooves on the verge, but she couldn’t get a grip.

“Nuuu! Nuuuuuu! Nu huwt babees! Pwease nu huwt! G-G-Gud babees!!” she squalled, her voice cracking with stress and fear.

“Yeah? Are you having a good time yet, shitrat?” sneered James. He finished typing the brown foal’s weight into the laptop and scooped it back up. The little creature was rolling its eyes in fear and holding its twiggy little front limbs out towards its mother - Hazel instinctively reached out towards it in response, as if she could make the little foal fly into her arms.

“Mummah! Mummah! Scawedies!” peeped the little umber filly. It let out an extended screech as James roughly jammed the thermometer up its ass, then flailed at James’ fingers with its tiny, soft hooves. “Weeeeep! Weeeeeeeeeeeep! Eeeeeeeeeeeep!”

“Nuuuuu! NUUUUUU! BABBEEEEHH! Huu, huuu, huuuuu, babees!” Hazel hollered as loud as she could. James held the impaled foal up by the stem of the thermometer like it was a fuzzy little popsicle.

“Oh, man, she doesn’t like that one bit.” He set the foal down a foot from the edge of the sink so Hazel could watch it hobble towards her. The foal was trying to keep its tail up, but its guts were wrenching in pain and every time it tried to take a step the glass tube sticking out of its ass clacked against the tabletop. It was sucking in air and making raspy squeaking and peeping noises that clanged in Hazel’s ears like church bells.

“Wheeep! Wheeep! Mummah! Mummah! Hewp!” it spluttered.

“BABEEHHH! BABEEHHH! COME TU MUMMAH! PWEASE!!!” Hazel screamed tearfully, drumming helplessly against the sink.

James turned back around and pinched the nape of the stricken foal’s neck while his other hand lined up the business end of his blood sample needle. He paused theatrically and looked down at the frantic mare peeking over the sink.

“Well? You want it back?” he asked in a calm voice. Hazel’s eyes grew desperate at the notion that he might just hand her foal back.

“Pwease gif babees! Nu huwt babees! Babee nu du anyfing bad!”

“Nu bad! Nu bad! Mummah!” peeped the little dirt-colored foal.

“You can have this one back, ugly. All you have to do is say you’re sorry.”

“F-F-Fwuffy sowwy! Pwease, pwease nu moaw babees huwties!” she sobbed.

“Say you’re sorry for biting me. Tell me how sorry you are.”

Hot tears sprung up into the anxious mare’s eyes. “Mummah sowwy fo’ gif biteys! Nu wan’ be bad fwuffeh! Biggest sowwies eva!” she bleated.

“You’re lyyying.” James stuck the needle into the little foal’s nape, making it bug its eyes out and croak through its worn vocal cords.

“NUUUU! NUUUUU!!!” Hazel shoved with all the strength left in her back hooves while scrabbling with her front, but all she managed to do was rebound off the steel sink edge and fall down.

Whump!

She wheezed in pain for a few heartbeats as bruises and strained muscles stormed all over her body, then heaved herself up to peer over the top of the sink again. James was waiting, holding the thermometer tip and waggling the spitted foal in its mother’s face.

Moaning, she clumsily pinched the foal between her two front hoof pads and pulled. The foal let out an extended croak as it slid off the thermometer. With the first whiff of sweet foal-scent, Hazel’s back legs buckled and she fell in a heap to the bottom of the wet, shit-splattered sink. Hunkered down on the cold metal, she desperately nuzzled the creature and looked for damage. A thimble full of creamy shit and a few droplets of blood leaked out of the foal’s hind, and Hazel had to push its tail out of the way to inspect the bloody fissures radiating out of the filly’s tiny pink anus.

“Huuuuu, suu sowwy, wittew babees! Sowwy, babees poopie pwace! Widdle babees pwease nu haf huwties! Mummah sowwy! Mummah sowwy!” she whispered.

“Chirp! Chirp! Mummah!” was all the little thing could manage. The mother delicately licked the raw wound, which managed to clean it up a little but caused her foal to squeak again and piss on her brown-and-white fluff.

“Nu! Nu bad! Nu bad!” it cried. Hazel broke down sobbing.

Up above, James was finishing the other two foals’ exams quickly and in relative peace. The other two foals didn’t seem to understand where their mother had gone and simply hugged each other and cried. Since the blood sample and thermometer were unpopular with patients, our hero quickly ran the more benign sorts of tests first - weight, girth, pulse, pupil dilation - all the facts went into the laptop. Finally, he placed both down on the table and took the opportunity to wipe his thermometer off on the blue pegasus’ back.

“Hey! Ugly! You want another foal back?”

Silence reigned for a second until Hazel clunked around in the sink. Bruises and strains were stiffening up all over her body in the cold pit, so it was more difficult for her to poke her head up this time. She cringed to see her two precious pegasus foals in the clutches of the tall human - she was so tired and intent on her brown earthie foal she had lost track of what was happening.

“W-w-wan’ babees. Pwease gif babees. Huu, pwease.” said Hazel, trying to be brave. Her foals didn’t seem hurt, just scared, and one of them had a streak of shit down its flank. When they heard her voice and saw her, they started peeping and trying to clamber in her direction.

“Why should I give you back another foal?” sneered James.

“Babees nee’ mummah! Babees fo’ wuv an’ huggies! Nu huwt!”

“Naw, that ain’t it.”

With that, James pinched the blue foal’s tail and lifted its hindquarters up off the shimmering tabletop. It pawed helplessly at the brushed steel and shook as it squirted urine and a few gobbets of shit out, all of which promptly dribbled down its body. James slid the thermometer into its ass while pulling back on its tail.

“WHEEEP! WHEEEEEEEP! WHEEEEEP!” sounded the foal.

“Nu! Nu! Mummah! Saf’ babees!” peeped the green sibling, shambling up to help. Hazel could only toddle back and forth on her rear hooves and moan from her foxhole.

“If I give you your foal back, it’s because I’m a nice human, right?” asked James.

“Nuh… whu…” said Hazel, so anxious she could barely focus on his words.

“Say I’m a nice human and I’ll give your little rat back.”

“Y-y-yu nice hooman! Nice hooman!” Hazel crowed. James slid the thermometer back out of the crying foal and idly checked the reading. He was swift with the needle this time and jabbed the foal’s nape. It peeped sharply, almost whistling.

“And if I’m a nice human, doesn’t that make you a bad fluffy?”

Hazel’s panicked mind lost its grip on the conversation and she started screaming and pounding her hooves on the rim of the sink. Her violet eyes bulged and brimmed over with desperate tears.

“NU BAD FWUFFY! NU BAD MUMMAH! GIF BABEE! GIF BABEE!”

“If you want the foals back, say you’re a bad fluffy. A bad mother.”

“F-F-Fwuffy am bad! Fwuffy sowwy for gif biteys! Sowwy!”

James released the blue pegasus filly to curl up in a sobbing, chirping ball on the table. Its brother toddled up and lay across it in a weeping embrace.

“Huggies! Huggies! Mummah hewp! Hewp!”

“Nope! I can tell when you’re fucking around, shitrat!” snapped James, who rolled the green pegasus off its brother and pressed one finger into its belly about halfway down. The white-winged foal suddenly found that it couldn’t breathe in. Its eyes popped open and it began working its mouth open and shut, silently gagging.

Hazel broke down into a stream of hooting, crying and the occasional word. Her throat threatened to close up on her and snot and tears began running freely from her face.

The foal spasmed and blew an impressive spray of shit from its hind end, whereupon James lifted it by its two back legs and deftly slid the thermometer home. The foal let out two ragged, gargling noises and then threw up a thimble of curdled milk and green bile onto its own body.

“Now, if you want your little shits back, say you’re a bad mother. And don’t say ‘fwuffy,’ say your name.”

“F-f-w-…”

“No!” barked James, lifting the foal popsicle-style to wave it in front of its mother. The foal was jiggling crazily, like it was flexing every muscle in its body in random patterns and then going limp. Its eyes were rolling around and the smeared vomit gave it a ghastly appearance. “Say ‘Hazel is a bad mother!’”

Hazel’s tear-rimmed eyes followed the foal back and forth while her chin quivered. She looked into the human’s cruel gaze behind his thick-framed black hipster glasses, and saw that she couldn’t win. It was like something broke open in her mind.

“D-d-d,” she spluttered, and sobbed. “Hazew am bad mummah! Hazew am bad mummah!” she said, her voice finally going raw.

“Fuckin-A right you are. You can’t protect your foals and you get them hurt. Now say ‘Hazel is a bad fluffy.” demanded James.

“Hazew am bad fwuffy! Am bad fwuffy!”

“I think so too. I think you got punished today because you’re bad. Say you’re bad again.”

The fluffy whined like a malfunctioning bagpipe. “Hazew am bad. Am bad mummah.” She bent her head down into the darkness. Below her, on the chill floor of the sink, her brown filly was curled into a lonely ball and crying into her own tail. She didn’t look up when her other two peeped in pain under James’ blood sample needle. “…Am bad mummah, bad fwuffy” she moaned.

“Good! I’m happy we agree on something, ugly!” James sneered. Tests complete, he slid over and grabbed Hazel by the collar and mane, lifting her up out of the sink. She gasped and sobbed a little, but he could feel how limply she was hanging - none of the tense resistance from earlier. He plopped her down on her rump and held her as erect as he could, and glared into her face. Her brown cheek fluff was matted with tears, and snot was dribbling out her pink nose. “Now, you ever bite me again, I swear to God I’ll rip your foals’ legs off right in front of you before beating you to death.”

With that promise, the human drew his hand up and back and viciously slapped the fluffy across the face. She let out an involuntary honking noise and jerked hard against her collar.

“HUUUUH! Muh! Muh - muh… huhhh…. s-s-sowwy gif biteys! Sowwy!” the mare wailed. She found herself flung roughly into her hutch, followed by her three foals. She lay on the carpet with her head spinning and both legs covering her snout - a trickle of blood was letting down between her hoofpads. Her three offspring wiggled into her fluff and clung to each other, peeping and chirping. James retrieved the red food dish from the floor and threw it into the hutch, where it bounced off the cringing mare’s back.

James turned and stopped in front of Spring’s hutch. The lavender fluffy had already fetched one of her foals - khaki with a tiny dark brown nub horn on its brow - and laid it down at the front of the cage. She began shaking when the lab tech approached, but kept her ears flat and didn’t look him in the eye.

“How about you? Going to give me any trouble?” he growled, snapping the door out.

“Nu,” came Spring’s soft, breathy voice. “Nu twubbew. Nu bad fwuffy.”

“Good. If you can be smarter than Stupid or Ugly here you might just get your foals back faster and a little less fucked-up.”

“Spwing gif babees to nice hooman. Nu wan’ huwties.” mumbled the mare.

James seemed surprised and relaxed a little. He scooped up the khaki foal while Spring brought him the cloudy grey-blue filly and the mottled emerald colt, both earth ponies. She laid them down gently in front of the cage and stood back, quivering, while he picked them all up and turned back to the table.

True to her word, Spring didn’t object even when she heard her foals cry out in fear and pain -

“Mummah! Mummah! Babee!”

Rather she lay in the front of her hutch, shaking silently and crying into her tail and tried not to listen. She didn’t look up when James returned and replaced her brood, because she knew he was taking her next. During the exam she was equally quiescent, but couldn’t help squeaking when he took her temperature and conducted the venipuncture. The calmed-down lab tech was a great deal more gentle with his final four subjects and it did go mercifully quickly.

“Okay!” he said, looking down at the fully examined fluffy family as they huddled together in their hutch and wept quietly. “Maybe next time you two tards can be more like Spring and we’ll all get along better.” He took a moment to ensure that the spreadsheet was fully loaded with data, and then consulted Dr. Hopkins’ schedule of instructions.

The blood samples included a measure of glucose, and for that reason the fluffies hadn’t been fed since - well, James didn’t know, but sometime the previous day. Tests complete, it was time for food. None of the fluffies had complained of hunger yet - they had all been focused on other things. He walked over to the crate and heaved out a big plastic tub of low-grade fluffy chow.

“You get to eat first, chill fluff,” he said to Spring as he dumped a scoop of kibble into her red food dish. “Stupid gets to go next.” Muffin had fallen asleep, but the clatter of kibble in a dish reminded her of the shelter and she snapped awake, dumping her foals on the ground. She trotted to the front of her hutch just as James opened it.

“Muffin wan’ nummies! Muffin haf hungwies!” she burbled, blind to James’ contemptuous glare. She shoved her face in the bowl and began to loudly eat the kibble - it was a cut above the fare served at the shelter, and the mare found it delicious. “Nummies!” she cheered, spewing crumbs out.

Finally, before ducking out the door on his lunch break, he dumped a scoop of kibble on the wet shit-smear in the front of Hazel’s cage. She glared hatefully at him through her tears.



NexTech Bio-Industries
4 Vital Statistics: Lunch

You are Spring. When the door thuds shut behind James, it drums on your ears a little bit. Now that he is gone, the tightness in your heartie slips away, and you feel a huge wave of scaredies and saddies boil up from inside. You breathe hard and huuhuu over your foals while the other two mares num-num on the kibble. Muffin, your scarlet neighbor, wolfs hers down and lies back rubbing her tummy and cooing. The fluffy on the other side, Hazel, eats hers cautiously, always keeping one see-place on her babees and one on the door.

You wait for the saddies to pass and shuffle over to your nummies. They are the same nummies you have been eating your whole life, just like you have spent your whole life in a fluffy housie just like this one. You think the other two mares are from Outside - they don’t smell familiar and they don’t seem to know about humans.

As you crunch the nummies down with your toofies, you think back to the room where you were born and raised - bigger than this one with dull grey walls, lined from front to back with boxy fluffy housies. One wall was all mummahs and their babees. You remembered no fluffy-daddehs from your earliest days - stallions were all kept in hutches against the next wall, two by two, across from the nu-babees mares and fillies. Each cage had a red nummies dish, a wawa bottle, a poopies boxie, a blankie, and either a ball or three blockies. It seemed like it would be a good place for happy fluffies, but it wasn’t. That was the world you were used to - it made sense in some ways but in others it was nothing but saddies, heart-hurties and scaredies every day forever.

Your mummah made sense to you. She was a pretty-pretty light grey wingie with wings, mane and tail the same dim lavender shade as your fluff. You and your brother and sissy frolicked in her hutch and nummed on her sweet, warm milkies while she sang mummah songs and cooed. You gave her lots of huggies and played peekie-boo games with the babees next door through the bars.

But the giant humans in the grey jumpsuits didn’t make sense to you. When you saw one, your heart leapt in your chest as you imagined them scooping you up and giving you love and huggies and nummies, but they never did that. They were always mean to you and your mummah. Even when they dropped nummies off at your hutch, they did it quickly and without talking. Every instinct you had about the towering, growling, impossibly strong humans turned out to be wrong, and everything your mummah said about them was right.

You didn’t think humans were for giving owwies and hitties even though your mummah tried to warn you. She always told you to be quiet in front of the humans and never to try to stop them or argue with them.

One day you were trying to num milkies and your mummah gave you sorry nippies. She said your toofies were hurting her milkie places, and both of you huuhuued. Your mummah kept making huuhuus and saddies all that day, and you didn’t understand why. She tried to let you num milkies again, but she jerked away and said that you were giving her owwies on her milkie place and that your toofies were meanies. You both kept making saddies. You got so hungry that you had to num kibble instead, and it wasn’t too bad.

Now you see that she knew the humans would take you away. Sure enough, after the next sleepy time, a grey-suited man came and said that you and your sissy and bruddah were going to a new cage. Your mummah had been crying all day, and for the first time she tried to stop the man with sorry nippies and puffy-cheekies. That was the day you learned why your mummah said never to make the humans have angries.

The human hauled your pretty mummah out of the cage in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it he was standing in the middle of the big room, gripping your mummah by her mane and smashing her against a metal table exactly like the one in front of your now-housie. His hand came up and your mummah screamed, then he swung her down again so fast that she became a blurry mummah. The sound made the whole room shake, and all the fluffies made quiet huuhuus. That’s another way you were able to tell that the two fluffies in the new, bright little room weren’t raised in the “Bweeding Yunit” - they huuhuu loudly, cry, and scream at the humans.

You don’t do that. You remember your mummah, feebly humping and squirming on the metal table in a puddle of her own sickie mouthie wawas, poopies, and booboo juice. Her head looked crooked and squished on one side, too, and her pretty eyesies were looking at different things. The human’s giant fist came down on her again and again, making her belly bulge out in different places. Then he grabbed one of her hoofies and folded it back the wrong way.

She was making the biggest croaky, screechy saddies ever as a different human shoved you in a new housie with a strange filly. You caught sight of your brother as he cried out to your mummah and leapt out of your old housie. He stuck his front hoofies out to give her huggies, but instead he fell straight down to the dark floor and you saw both his front leggies break at the bendy place.

It was very hard to understand your mummah with her toofies all bashed up and booboo juice coming out, but you knew she was calling out for her babees. When you yelled back, the strange mare in your cage gave you sorry owwies and meanie hushies. The humans yelled and yelled about how bad your mummah was and how bad fluffies got the biggest owwies. You looked out into the room from a completely new angle and watched your mummah rock back and forth on the table, crying and spitting booboo wawas. Another human gave your brother meanie upsies by his hurt leggies. He screamed and screamed and made bad poopies on the human, who roared in anger and smashed your brother’s head against the corner of the table very hard.

He landed next to your mummah, who opened her mouth and made strange, croaky scary saddies at him. He wiggled a few times and then held still and made bad peepees, but your mummah kept hitting her nosie on the table and making dummeh-saddies until she went to sleep with her eyes open. They both went in the trashies.

From your new housie, you could smell your sissy two hutches down, and you could see the stallions straight across from you. To your left was something you had never noticed with your babees see-places: A wall of housies that wasn’t all mummahs, mares, or stallions - something different. As the days went by, you saw that the fluffies’ housies there were constantly being loaded on carts and moved in and out. It was one more thing you didn’t understand, and it was secretly the worst of them all. You saw fluffies come in with scary things happening to them - fluffies with their belly fluff taken away, tied up in their cages with meanie no-can-move things, their skin marked with square red booboos and ouchies.

“Wha wong wif fwuffies? Fwuffies have sickies?” you asked your new roommate, who turned out to be a good mare.

“Fwuffies haf ‘spewiment,” she hissed. “Hoomans du fings tu fwuffies. Put fings in eyesies. Make fwuffies haf sickies an’ huuhuus. Take fings out of fwuffies’ tummies.”

You watched fluffies get popped in and out of their cages for many reasons - Soon-mummahs would have their babees and the humans would want to make the hutch clean with noisy wawas. Other times, they put a stallion and a crying mare on the table together and made them have special huggies. Every once in a while, a fluffy would be a bad fluffy and the humans would give it owwies in front of everybody, sometimes even beating them until they slept forever like your brother and mummah. Even more rarely, the humans would pull out a fluffy and give it a meanie bath.

But the worst thing was to be put in the come-and-go housies against the wall. Whole families of fluffies would be split up into those housies, then get whisked away under big dark blankies, then come back as yikky, sickies, wan’-die fluffies. You saw two stallions and a mare vanish one day and come back seeming normal, but after nummies time all three of them started holding their tummies and making big saddies and huuhuus. They started screaming and pawing at their housies. One by one they squirted lots and lots of sickies wawas and booboo juice from their mouths and poopie places and screamed until they broke their screamy places, and then they said wan’-die until they did.

You saw mummahs who came in crying over their sleepy-forever babees. Fluffies with hard metal pipes sticking out of their tummies appeared, begging the humans not to put any more burny wawas in their tummies. Most didn’t come back at all.

That was what you learned: Don’t make the humans angry. Make happies when you have a chance. Hope you don’t get put in one of the come-and-go housies. Now, after the biggest, worst scaries and saddies of the past week the most scaredies-making thing in the world had finally happened to your and your babees. That was why you didn’t make angries or huuhuus at James - you saw what he was doing to the other mares and their babees, and you knew that it could be far, far worse.

You look at the other two mummahs. Muffin is a very pretty mare - you have never seen a fluffy with a different color tummy before. You want to give her huggies just looking at it. But she does not seem to know much and you are startled by the way she treats her foals - she ignores them a lot when they give each other haf-coldies huggies, and you have seen her drop them and step on them. Hazel seems fierce and strong and very lucky, because she bit James and wasn’t given the biggest owwies ever. It makes you very curious.

“F-f-fwuffies?” you say, trying to make your voice strong. “Am Spwing. Am gud fwuffy. Wan’ be nyu fwiends?”

Muffin pops up and walks over to the bars separating you. She is smeared with not-pretties and tears. “Wuv nyu fwiend! Wan’ haf huggies an’ wuv an’ pway an’ sing songies! Nyu fwiend wan’ pway wif babees?”

“Pway! Wub!” squeaks your sandy pointy colt before you shush him.

“N-Nyu fwiends pwease nu twy gif owwies ow biteys ow poopies to James. Pwease! S-spwing knu hoomans wike James an’ dey gif foweva sweepies tu fwuffies if biteys ow poopies.” Both Hazel and Muffin are staring at you. You can’t help but to flatten your ears and break eye contact. “F-fwuffy am fwom Bweeding Yunit.” You feel like a dummy stupid mare.

“Wha Bweeding Yunit?” asks a raspy voice - Hazel, the piebald nu-wingie nu-pointy. She startles you and you make huff-huffies for a second.

“Is big woom wif fwuffies an’ housies an’ hoomans… an’… dey haf babees.”

“Muffin wan’ Bweeding Yunit! Muffin wike babees, huhuhuh! Babees fo’ pway!”

“N-n-nu, Bweeding Yunit nu happeh pwace, am huuhuu pwace an’ dey gif fwuffies ‘spweiments an’-”

“Muffin fwom shewta! Shewta dummeh poopies pwace wif wittew boxies an’ nu gud num-nums an’ hoomans meanies to fwuffies, buh offa hoomans aww nyu daddehs an’ mummahs fo fwuffies!” she finished brightly. “Muffin wan’ nyu daddeh! Daddeh gif wuv an’ huggies an’ skettis an’ bwushies!”

You don’t know what to say. Something gives you heart-hurties when Muffin talks about a Daddeh and a Mummah, but you don’t know what she sees when she closes her see-places. When Hazel makes talkies, you make huff-huffies again for a second because she startled you.

“Hazew am fwom Tawwest Twee hewd.”

You gasp. You’re not totally sure, but you think she is saying that she comes from the Big Outside. At night in the Bweeding Yunit, the fluffies would talk to each other, and you heard some things about these other places, where you could see the sky-ball and there were grassies and tweety friends.

“Wha hewd? Am happies pwace?”

The question makes Hazel look away, and when she turns her nosie back you can see that she is making huuhuus. You have heart-hurties because you made a fluffy have saddies and you will never be able to give her huggies to make it go away.

“Wuv Hewd. Hewd nu have STOOPID POOPIES HOOMAN! HATE POOPIES HOOMAN! DUMMEH HOOMAN!” She leaps to her hoofies while hollering this in an amazingly loud voice. For the third time, you huff-huff in surprise at the way Hazel makes talkies. Everything goes quiet, and you huff-huff again at the thought that a human is about to appear, yank Hazel out of her cage and smash her tummy on the corner of the table until she goes to sleep forever with her eyes open. Your babees peep in fear and clamber over one another to nuzzle up against your ribs.

At least there are lots of things to look at in this room besides fluffy cages and giant metal tables. The walls are lined with human boxies, and there are some on the floor near the table, too. You are interrupted when Muffin gets tired of trying to clean poopies off herself and her babees and bounces in front of you.

“Pway wif Muffin! Muffin pwetty widdwe babees pway wif Spwing babees!” Her happy talking has caught the attention of your foals. They waddle and pop-hop back and forth along the cage wall like you used to do when you were a silly filly. Muffin is trying to get her two foals to play the runny-hoofies game too, but they are not as good at walking. Muffin makes little angries at her babees and shoves them back and forth.

“Babee! Pway! Wub pway!” squeaks your sandy-colored pointie babees.

“Wub!” peeps Muffin’s scarlet colt, still crusted with no-smell-pretties.

You make biggest smilies down at your babees. They have big happies, but part of you wonders if they are just like you before you knew about the sicky-cages. You look across Muffin’s hutch at Hazel. She is laying on her side with one leggie raised so two of her babees can num milkies. She is quietly singing to the third, the dark green wingie, and holding up a hoodie for it to shove against. She smiles as it gives the strongest pushies and shoves it can without giving up.

The door creaks open and your foals all turn to look. You can feel the room become less happy and you get a frightful tickly feeling up and down your mane as James strides in and noisily slumps down into his chair. You find that you have to physically get between your foals and Muffin’s to stop them from squeaking and playing with each other. Your grey-blue no-pointie no-wingie babees doesn’t want to stop playing and switches from squeaking happily to huffing and making grumbling noises. He looks up at you and makes cheekie-puffies.

“Wan’ pway! Nu! Nu!” he peeps.

You make angries down at him and puff your own cheeks out, and scold him a quietly as you can.

“Nu be bad! Nu moaw pway! Babee du wha mummah teww!”

You are anxious. You know he’s not a bad baby, but he is headstrong. He was a no-see babees for most of the events of last week, and he doesn’t understand why it’s important to stay quiet when humans are around. You quickly lean down and give him sorry nippies on the nape of his neck, which makes him chirp and fall over.

“NUUU! Nu huwt babees!” bleats Muffin. She is so loud that it startles you and you jump involuntarily, rattling the bars. At least your other two babees have got the message and are crawling or pop-hopping away into the corner of the housie. Once you see that, you turn around to face Muffin.

The burgundy mare with the mauve belly is standing with her nose next to the bars, making angries at you.

“Nu gif owwies tu babees! Yu bad mummah! Babees fo’ pway, nu owwies!” She bangs on the cage with her hoofie. Now she’s making cheeky-puffies at you.

“Nu! Nu! Pway!” echoes your naughty babees through his tears.

You open your mouth to argue, but then you catch sight of a big shadow - James got up and walked up to the front of Muffin’s housie. Huffing a little, you reach down and nip your naughty babee by his scruff. He chirps and makes tiny angries, but you don’t stop until you are curled up in the far corner next to the nu-pretties place with your tail draped over your green and khaki babees and the grey-blue one clutched in your front hooves.

“NUUUUU!” Muffin hollers at you. “Bad mummah huwt babees moaw! Wet babees pway, dummeh bad mummah!”

“Shut the hell up.” snarls James suddenly. Muffin makes huff-huffies, but then turns around and starts talking to James.

“Hooman, bad mummah nu wet babees pway! Gifs owwies to babees!”

“I can put up with you tards singing your stupid songs if I have to, but if you keep yelling and banging on the cage I am going to fuck you up.” His voice buzzes in your ear and gives you scaredies. You cuddle up closer to your foals, who have all stopped peeping and are staring at James with wide eyes. You’re not a bad mummah, you say to yourself.

You watch James open Muffin’s cage door and yell at her. She sits down on her rump and makes gif-huggies legs up at him and makes loud saddies. Then he reaches out and gives her owwies on top of her head - the same place he has given her lots of owwies before. Muffin falls over holding her hoofies up and makes poopies on the bottom of her cage, which just makes James have more angries. For a moment, you feel like you are back in the Bweeding Yunit and you huuhuu quietly.

Suddenly, the flat boxie thing on the table that James always plays with makes a ringy-beepy noise. He seems surprised and steps away from crying Muffin to see what his flat boxie friend wants.

“Awwwww, shit, today? Guhhhhh…” James rolls his eyes, which you know means he is having angries about something. Then he walks around his little table, putting his toys back in boxies and stacking things up and making them pretty. After that, he wipes a little blankie over the shiny-shiny table. Once that is done, he stands in front of Muffin’s cage again, glaring down at her.

“One day and you things have managed to shit all over the carpets. Well, I gotta clean them so watch out.”

James reaches in and grabs hold of the fuzzy floor part of Muffin’s cage and gives it a strong pull. You know how this works - when a fluffy’s bottom-blankie doesn’t smell pretty or gets covered by poopies or babees-yikkies, the humans would pull it out and make it clean again with noisy, scary wa-was. While it was gone, you could see down into the bottom of your housie where the nu-pretties-boxie lived.

Muffin, however, is terrified. She tries to back up when the floor starts moving, but James yanks on it and she topples over backwards and falls on her tummy and milkie places. Her two babees are orange and red fuzzballs bouncing next to her. She struggles into a sitting position and takes a deep-deep breath to make the biggest, loudest saddies ever.

“HUUUUUU! NU HUWWWT!! NU HUWWWWTTT!”

“Jesus! Do you ever shut up?” James growls at her before reaching in and grabbing her hard by the mane and collar. For the second time in one brighty-bright, James flings her onto the table, but this time she vanishes into the sink and you hear her make owwies at the bottom just like Hazel did earlier.

You try not to watch or listen, but you can’t help it. James pulls Mister Wa-was Hose off its stick with one hand and Muffin’s housie-blankie up with the other and starts making big, loud wawas hiss and splatter everywhere. He is yelling things at Muffin, but you can’t hear her except when he shoots meanie wawas on her and she screams.

“Yeah? Are you going to shit on your carpet any more?” he yells, then waits a little and says “Sure, just tell me you’re a shitty, stupid fluffy.” Then he gives her bad wa-was and you can hear her scream and beg. “No, say your name. Say ‘Muffin is a stupid fluffy…’ Now say ‘Muffin is a shitty fluffy…’ Good!”

You look down at your own housie-blankie. It’s in good shape. In the middle, Muffin’s foals are alone on the wire bottom of the cage, chirping and crying. Hazel, across the empty cage from you, made sorry poopies in her hutch earlier and then James dragged her hoofies through the poopies and finally dumped her nummies on the same spot. Some of the nummies are still there, stuck down in the nu-pretties. Hazel looks up at you and you can see that she is trying not to have scaredies.

“And teach your little rats to shit in the litter box!” snarled James as he threw soggy Muffin back in her cage. She was soaked with bad wa-was, making her fluff stick to her body, and crying and sobbing quietly to herself. Her foals crawled over but they couldn’t stand to touch her when she was drenched, so they just huddled together and made saddies.

“Your turn, Ugly.”

Hazel is standing in the very back of her cage with all three babees on her back, which looks very funny and strange to you. She nimbly steps out of the way when James hauls the boxie-blankie up and out the front door, then stands funny while her foals slide off. They are making scaredies, but she coos to them and pets them.

“You want to try biting me again, shitrat?” asks James in a scary, meanie voice.

“…Nu.” says Hazel. “Nu owwies. Gud fwuffy.” She’s holding her nose down and ears flat - she looks how you must look when you do that.

“Good! We’re making fucking progress!”

James hauls the boxie-blankie over to the sink and blasted it with the hose, making the biggest noisies. While he is coming back, the tall, brown-fluff human you saw yesterday walks in through the door. You recognize his white jacket from humans you met in the Bweeding Yunit. He’s someone important, a Biggest Human.

“Ah, how are we doing?” he says in a pleasant voice, higher and nicer than James.

“Dr. Hopkins! I was just straightening up,” says James, sounding nicer than ever.

“Good! I came down to see how our first day went. Yes. I am on my way out of the building.”

James rolls the giant blankie up and bangs it in the sink, making droplets fly everywhere. Then he slides it back into Hazel’s hutch. Muffin is grunting and sobbing as she rolls back and forth, trying to dry out her fluff. You sit quietly and watch. The humans walk over to James’ table and poke through his things. You can’t understand what they are saying, but you have to figure out how to keep them from giving your family the worst sickies.

“Hewwo! Muffin am gud fwuffy! Muffin haf meanie cowdies! Wan’ huggies!” pipes Muffin, and bangs on the front of her cage with one hoofie.

Both the humans look over - the tall man is startled, but James looks like he is having angries. They walk over and stand in front of your little fluffy housies.

“Nice hooman gif Muffin huggies? Be nyu daddeh? Muffin am gud fwuffy! Nu wike cowdies!” she says, plopping down on her rump and making gif-huggies. James rolls his eyes, but the other man seems to think its funny.

“No, I’m sorry, my dear, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says in his softies voice. “But can you tell me, erm, are your foals healthy?”

“Babees? Babees aww gud babees! Yu wan’ pway wif babees?” Muffin bounds around in her cage, shoving her red foal into the front. She pinches it between her front hoofies and holds it up in front of the man with a gleeful expression.

“No, that’s quite all right, I just meant to ask if your foals were, um, ill or if they had been feeling all right.” he murmured, holding his hands up.

“Dat meanie man took babees!” she thrusts one stubby hoof at James. “Gif scawedies an’ huwties to babees! Huuu, huuu, huuu gif owwies to Muffin! Den gif Muffin bad wa-was an’ haf cowdies!”

They, ahh, don’t like the thermometer,” says James.

“Oh! Ha, I imagine not. Well.” says Dr. Hopkins. “I just thought I’d ask after the foals’ well-being, ah, straight from the horses’ mouth, so to speak.” He chuckled. “And you, ahhh, Spring, is it? One of the last from our in-house Breeding Unit, yes? How are your foals doing?”

You feel yourself start to shake as he talks to you. It burns in your throat, but you manage not to make saddies or scaredies.

“Babees gud. Nice mistew. Gud fwuffy.”

“Hrm. Well, good! I’m excited to see the ne-” You feel your heart-fluffy start to stomp when you interrupt the tall, sandy-fluff human.

“M-m-nice mistah? Nice hoomans? Fwuffy see dewe boxies wif toys an’ bwankies… offa dewe by wa-was pwace. If hoomans nu nee’ toys an’ bwankies, wiww pwease gif fo babees? Wike in Bweeding Yunit?”

“Hrm. Yes, um, I suppose they sent up the usual, ah, accoutrements, yes? I’m sure James will finish unpacking presently.” He sounds so nice that you can’t stop yourself from looking up at his eyes. You wonder if Muffin is right, if humans really do take fluffies away to be their new daddies and give them all the wonderful things in the world. Your heart-fluffy gives you big owwies as it wishes that this nice tall man would be your new daddy.

James seems surprised that you spoke up, but he just shrugs.

“Sure, I’ll get that stuff busted out before I close up tonight.”

“Good! While we’re on that general subject, I have been thinking of adding an exercise program to the schedule. Yes. What would you think about that?”

“Exercise the shi- the fluffies?”

“Yes, to draw a little closer, as it were, to the ideal of a household pet who will ultimately be the consumer of our inoculation formula. I understand pet, ah, fluffies go on walks and such and have the run of a playroom or backyard or the like, which I think will affect their metabolic and cardiovascular matrices. I was told there are such things as an exercise wheel for animals of this size.”

“I’ll ask Facilities if we have one. If you just want the fluffies to work up a sweat once in a while, we might be able to handle that.”

“Hrm, yes, good. We should talk more tomorrow. Thanks so much for your work today.”

“You got it, Dr. Hopkins.”

And the tall man walked out of the room. James stomped away and tore into the boxie you asked about - every cage in the Bweeding Yunit had the same soft fleece blankie and one of a few different toys. You would recognize them anywhere. Sure enough, James lumbered back over and tossed three colorful blockies and a grey blankie with blue flowers into your cage.

Your foals peeped and started crawling and pop-hopping towards the pretty, happy blockies. It gave you happies and heart-hurties at the same time.

James growled at Muffin before throwing one of the red balls at her very hard. “Good work trying to tattle on me. The Doc doesn’t give a fuck about you. Dumbass.” It bounced off her cheekie and went galloping around her hutch for a little. Her foals chirped and crawled around in little circles, and she fell over on her side and covered her head with her leggies. He tossed another ball and a blankie into Hazel’s cage without talking to her. She stared at her new things like a silly filly.

All the babees began to play with their new toys, peeping to each other and saying “Wub! Baww!” and “Pway!” but James didn’t even seem to notice. He packed up his own toys and boxies and stalked out of the room without another word, slapping the light switch on the way out. The room was plunged into the twilight glow of dark times.

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Good stuff!

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Oooooh shit, James is NOT the type Dr. Hopkins wants to keep the fluffies happy and healthy… He’s gonna blow in front of the doc, kill one of the fluffies… And James gonna get fired, and thrown out by security after giving HIM a beating. Of course after his rage causes damages he can’t cover up, like a bleeding on the brain showing up on xrays, and shave the head to find markings and cracked skull.

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YEa damaging test subjects for an experiment like this will just screw up the results.

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This is already one of my all time favorites. Can’t wait for the next part:)

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