Following the ideas from @FederalChemical1728 and @Maple, here’s my Wumps For Sketti Story.
He was a light brown, almost tan Pegasus stallion with a white mane, his name was Oliver, not the strongest Fluffy, nor the smartest, far from the prettiest with his drab coat and clashing mane, but he had love in his heart for his friends and especially for his family. His special-friend Abby had given birth to their first litter of foals just a few days ago, it should’ve been the happiest day of their lives.
Instead, it set in place just how dire their situation was.
The torturous growl in Oliver’s stomach wasn’t hunger, it was so far beyond that, to even call it hunger would be an insult. It had been so long since either Oliver or Abby had eaten any food that their newborn babbehs almost missed their crucial first feeding, only by the saving grace of a ripped bin bag spilling out a rotten apple core and some wilted grapes were the new parent able to feed their children. It had been several days since then and still nothing.
Part of the reason for the shortage of food was the increased activity of humans in the area, specifically humans wearing bright green vests and hard yellow hats. These humans had been using loud and heavy tools on the brick walls in and around Oliver’s alleyway home, preventing the stallion from being able to snatch-and-grab dropped food items from ripped bags and littering humans. The noise had stopped over the last day so Oliver risked venturing out in the hopes of finding something, ANYTHING that he could give his family to keep them going just that little bit longer.
And it was today that he saw what the humans had been working on.
Unbeknownst to Oliver, the city council was trialling a new form of Fluffy population control after the controversial ‘Foals For Sketti’ machines were proving to be less cost-effective than planned since Fluffy breeding rates meant that for every one foal killed in the machine, there were two more to take its place in the outside world. This new device was called the ‘Wumps For Sketti’ machine and was designed for quick and clean castration, hopefully eliminating the source of the foals in a much more effective manner.
Oliver looked at the machine, essentially a hole in the wall with a space for a Fluffy’s behind. The bright neon sign above portrayed a happy Fluffy eating a bowl of spaghetti, all while a sing-song voice chimed out; ‘Gib Wumps, Git Sketti’.
It was a frightening prospect for Oliver, to give up his lumps, his precious manhood, the thing that made him the father he was today. But without food, he wouldn’t be a father anymore, without food he wouldn’t be alive anymore. He stood for several moments, going over the options in his head, the chilly winds starting to cut at sensitive skin, until eventually he took a deep breath and stepped forward, for his family he would make this sacrifice.
Shivering from both the cold and his own fear, Oliver turned around so that his behind was facing the machine, then slowly he backed himself into the Fluffy-shaped hole and pressed himself into it’s slot, there was a slow whirring sound before he felt something cold and metallic against his behind and a soft feminine voice spoke from the machine.
“Subject accepted. Please do not be alarmed.”
“Owivah twy nice wady, hab biggesh scawdies.”
“Would you like to entertain yourself with some questions?”
“Wha qwest-tuns du nice wady wan…”
“Question 1: What is your favourite thing to do?”
“Hmm, Owivah wub gibben huggies tu speciaw-fwiend an babbehs, gib biggesh heawt-happies, Oxivah fink huggies am favouwite fing.”
“Question 2: What is your favourite colour?”
“Oh dat ee-see, Owivah’s favouwite cowuh am yewwow, wike speciaw-fwiend, she bestesh, pwettiesh Fwuffy eba. Owivah wub hew su muchies.”
“Question 3: What is your favourite food?”
“Ooh, sketti, sketti am bestesh nummies, Owivah neba hab sketti befowe bu knyo…”
SHINKT
“EEEP!”
Oliver felt a sharp tug in his special-lumps, quickly followed by something cold and stinging, then nothing. The machine whirred again and Oliver felt his back-half free to move again, cautiously he stepped forward, aside from a dull ache between his legs he felt ok. Except that dull ache was more than just some random hurtie, it was his lumps, the very thing that made him both a daddy and a stallion, now gone. Oliver felt his heart start hurting as he thought about what he’d given up.
Only to be distracted by a small ding noise as the machine dropped a plastic bag of cooked spaghetti onto the concrete.
“Thank you, enjoy your reward.”
Suddenly all thoughts of sacrifice and heartbreak left Oliver and he excitedly grabbed the bag of sketti.
“Fank yu nice wady.” He mumbled out through clenched teeth, grunting slightly as he made the short but still substantial journey home with his prize. He couldn’t tell gor sure, but there felt like there was enough sketti in the bag to feed the entire family for more forevers than he could count.
He had done it, he’d saved them.
Oliver turned the corner into his alley-home, a sodden cardboard box left behind long ago and forgotten to the ages. He dragged the sketti-bag as close to the entrance as he could and rushed inside.
“Speciaw-fwiend, speciaw-fwiend wook, Owivah find sketti nummies, WOTS of sketti nummies.”
Abby didn’t move.
Neither did their foals, the five skeletal forms all pressed into their mother’s filth encrusted and thinning yellow Fluff, tiny howls of agony etched onto their faces. On Abby’s unmoving features lay a look of unending heartbreak and disappointment.
Oliver just giggled. “Siwwy speciaw-fwiend, Owivah hab enuff sketti nummies fow AWW famiwy, wook.”
Oliver quickly gripped the bag and pulled it open, hot spaghetti and tomato sauce spilled out on their cardboard home, the hot steam filled the damp walls as wet sketti devoured the emaciated infants. Oliver turned back to his family, a wide smile still on his face.
“Wook famiwy, am SU many sketti nummies, neba gu hungwy gain. Hewe speciaw-fwiend, yu hab fiwst nummies.”
With surprising delicacy, Oliver lowered Abby’s head into the sketti run-off, pushing her mouth into the soft noodles as orange sauce stained her fluff.
“Owivah wub speciaw-fwiend, wub babbehs, neba wet aneefing bad happen tu famiwy, dey aww Owivah hab weft.”
There was a small twitch in his eye and for a brief moment Oliver swore he felt the loving warmth of Abby’s body turn deathly cold, as though she had been dead for hours. But then just as quickly the warmth came back, and everything was well again.
Less than a month later, the Wumps For Sketti concept was scrapped. It turns out that most stallions were too proud to give up their precious lumps, even for sketti, the foals that died of hunger were soon replaced by another litter since the father would always have the ability to make more.
It turned out that no Fluffy would ever be desperate enough to mutilate themselves for their offspring. And those that did had far bigger issues than hunger to deal with.
