Practice
By: Turboencabulator
It had been what felt like the longest time to Silky, since she had been put in the carrier,
and placed in a quiet car trunk. There was motion, and she buried her face behind her hooves,
trying to keep quiet. Maybe the roaring monster would go away. She was happy the mister had
taken her from the mean shelter. He had explained he needed to hide her in the dark place, but
it was safe.
She was worried, not just because of the monster outside, but that the mister had told her she
needed to stay calm for her tummy babies. She didnât know how he knew she was a
soon-mummah. She wanted so badly to ask what he meant, but the meany stinky mister with the
white burnies was there. You didnât talk when he was there. For now, she hid behind her hooves,
trying to ignore the sounds of the monsters outside, her tail curled up under her and against
her belly.
Silky remembered her last daddy. He called her meanie names and put her in the shelter when
that awful feral gave her bad special huggies. She tried to tell him she didnât ask for
them. The picture box said to always ask your mommy and daddy for things, and Silky assumed
that meant babies too. So she lay in the shelter, the owwies from the feralâs sorry-hooves
fading as her tummy slowly got bigger.
Hopefully this new daddy was nicer. He did seem more gentle, picking her up in a way that
didnât hurt. His voice was softer, and he didnât smell of the funny yellow water her last daddy
always drank from brown bottles. He didnât shout when she complained about the carrier, and
gave her some nummies to help her tummy not feel icky from the swaying of the carrier. That
meant he was nicer, right?
After a long forever, the shaking and growling stopped, and the trunk opened. The nice mister
leaned down.
âThat wasnât so bad was it?â He asked, with a faint smile. âCome on, letâs get you in, itâs
starting to get cold.â
He picked up the carrier, and Silky scooted forward to look out the front. There was a big wide
area covered in little stones, a housie, a big grey stone housie with glass housies next to it,
and then even more big red and white housies, and then across from the regular housie there was
another grey stone housie! So many housies to live in!
She watched as he carried her into the smaller grey stone housie. The floor was white and shiny
in here, and it was very bright. He carried her into a room full of shiny glass thingies and long tables with black tops, and funny pictures all over the walls on big pieces of paper. There were
storybooks full of tiny words and funny sticky pictures, and toysies made of thick grey sticks
and colorful balls.
The door to the carrier opened, and he reached in, gently lifting her out and setting her in a
shiny metal sink.
âBathtime, Silky.â
She immediately tensed up. âBut mistew, wawa am bad fow fwuffy, an eben wowse fow tummy
babbies.â
He chuckled and turned the water on, letting it go into the other side of the sink. âToo much
water, yes. But itâs only a little, and it isnât going to be mean water. You want to be clean
right? Dirty fluffies can make their babies sick.â
She thought long and hard. Eventually she came to the conclusion that even if he was being
dummy, she didnât want to go back to the shelter. So, she nodded quietly and tensed up,
watching as the water spout turned to her side of the sink.
The water slowly rose, and she tried to get as high on her stubby legs as she could. Then she
felt the warmth. It felt really nice, and she relaxed, settling into the water.
âThere,â he said, smiling, gently starting to lather her up, massaging her body gently as the
foam built in her fluff. âItâs nice isnât it? So many fluffies have bad experiences with water
but if itâs warm and not too deep, itâs very nice.â
âFeews wawm, but not wike bwankie.â She said, giggling. It made her tummies feel better too,
like her babies werenât as grumpy.
After a water change, and a warm rinse, she was toweled off, cooing and giggly, and set in a
large, soft pen. It was all white, with a white bed, and white floor made of soft, and with a
bright red ball and three colorful blocks.
âNow, this bed is next to your litterbox because I know youâve been having trouble moving. Iâve
put the water-bottle here and food dish here, so you can rest while you eat and drink. Try to
play a little bit, but if itâs too hard thatâs fine. Youâre going to be having babies soon and
that can make for very tired days.â He said, pointing to things in the pen. It was much nicer
than the âclaw-setâ her last daddy had given her. She could even see the tops of the counters
and tables, and the pretty, but strange, pictures on the walls.
She looked around, managing to turn herself, before she yawned and curled up on her bed.
âNaptime then?â He said, putting a blankie over her.
She nodded, and he pat her softly on the head. âOk. Iâm going to put a top of your pen to make
it not so bright.â
A solid cover came down, leaving enough light she could see, but easily rest. For the first
time her bed was comfy, she was warm, and she had a daddy that was actually nice.
She slept, a few happy tears blending with her fluff, still damp from the bath.
Sam watched Silky sleep, smirking quietly to himself. She was so docile and manageable, for
anyone else she might make a good fluffy. Too bad.
He turned back to the Alenix manual of fluffy anatomy, open next to the standard fluffy
surgical procedures guide. The pillowing process seemed fairly straightforward, however the
enucleation would be difficult without sedation or restraints. Laryngectomies were similarly
difficult, especially given the close quarters. Sam was sure he could pillow a chirpy with
enough practice, but the rest was difficult.
After a moment, he slapped himself in the forehead and groaned. âOf course.â
He didnât even need to bother removing the eyes except as punishment. That was only done for
milkbags, to make sure they didnât react poorly to feeding babies that werenât theirs. Or to be
cruel, whichever is more appropriate.
The important factor, though, was that permanent intubation and poop-tube technology was only
made for adult fluffies. Sam wrote down some notes, and made accompanying diagrams, before
going to the refrigerator and pulling out Silkyâs very special food. A little natural assistance to move the pregnancy along, so to speak.
Lightning stretched in his bed, full after gorging himself on chirpy dim sum, and fell back
into a deep sleep. Sam set the bowl of fruits and vegetables in Silkyâs pen and picked up his
own fluffy, carrying the adorable little cannibal out and back home.
Over the next few days, Silky grew concerned. Her daddy was always there, and would chat with
her, but she never left the pen. He said it was because she was very close to having babies,
and it was the warmest place in the housie. She saw the strange streaky fluffy, too, and he
seemed nice, but the stallionâs expression and the way he looked at her felt weird. He was big
too, and lean, and faster than any fluffy sheâd ever seen.
There was something that didnât seem right, and she couldnât put her hoof on it. It wasnât the
other mister with the strange smell, or the not-kibble nummies she was eating.
The wondering was put out of her mind when she felt the first contractions. The pain went right
to her head, making her roll on her side and squeal in pain.
Over a lot of forevers she felt a lot of hurties and strange feelings from her special
place. She heard cheeping sounds, and knew her babies were there.
âYou rest, Silky, Iâll clean your babies off.â Daddy said, patting her on the side. âYouâve
done well, you have four pretty babies.â
Four! She knew that number. That was so many babies. Questions spun in her head. She only had
two milky-places, would there be enough for all the babies? What if they didnât like her milk,
or what if one was a little dummy and didnât know how to eat?
She barely noticed the chirping got a little more faint. After a minute, she sat up, looking
around. Daddy had moved to a row of little no-see boxies, each one with a chirpy baby in
them. She stared, hooves against the clear wall of her pen, uncomprehending.
What was he doing?
After a cursory examination and cleaning of each of the newborns, Sam placed them into
individual incubators, in a row next to Silkyâs pen. He glanced over and saw her staring at her
children, confused.
She looked up at him. âDaddeh, pwease gib babbies? Babbies need be wit mummah, need miwkies.â
âNo.â He said, and turned back, making labels for the four incubators.
Silky stared at him, then back at the chirpies. They had already latched on to the artificial
nipples, sucking down formula and cooing.
âDaddeh, nu be siwwy, need babbies.â She said, a bit louder.
âWhich is it, they need you, or you need them?â Sam asked, keeping his voice mild.
âSiwky need babbies, and babbies need dey mummah.â She said, and for once, there was conviction in her voice. He could see the lack of understanding in her eyes, and hear her getting more frustrated.
He sat down on a stool in front of her pen. âNo, they donât.â He said, staring her in the
eye. âThey have milk, warmth, and good sounds. They donât need you. Iâm not giving them to
you. Iâm going to raise them and use them to learn things. The only reason I adopted you was
because you had babies I could use.â
Her jaw dropped for a second, then she bared her teeth, screeching, âGIB BABBIES NAO DUMMY
DADDY!â
Sam didnât react, didnât blink. He just stood up and began washing his hands in the sink next
to her cage. She charged over and rammed the wall. Then the turned and lifted her tail.
âThe wall wonât let poopies through, Silky.â He said, without looking at her. âYou wonât do
anything but make yourself dirty and smelly.â
She hesitated, then blew a raspberry at Sam and unloaded, spraying shit all over the wall. She
turned back and despite knowing it wouldnât work, was still disappointed none got out.
âNow look at yourself.â He said, with a little head-shake. âYouâre too dirty to give your
babies milk.â
Silky paused, blinking, processing what Sam said. Before she had a chance to react, he had the
top off the pen and hauled her up by the scruff of her neck. She screamed and thrashed as he
gave her a very hot bath, scrubbing her clean with a nail-brush. He absentmindedly tossed her
in the dry side of the sink and began preparing an area on one of the work-tables.
She immediately tried to get up, slipping and sliding in the basin of the sink, barely able to
get her hooves up on the lip. When she saw Sam coming back, she slid down and backed into the
corner, cheeks puffed.
He laughed. She knew that laugh, the cold laugh of a human who did not love her. âYou really
should just give up.â He said, and reached down for her. She lunged, but he lifted his hand out
of the way, grabbing her scruff as she went past. Hauling her up again, he laughed in her
face. âI applaud your spirit though, I must say. Youâll probably last a while.â
He carried her over to a work area sterilized enough for a fluffy. There was a slightly concave
tray, with strap restraints on it. Silky was secured on her side, and corked. She squirmed,
snapping at anything that came near her head, until an elastic band was put around her snout.
Sam gently booped her nose, elicting a snort and snarl.
âNow, Silky, I was going to be nice and only take one leg, but I think I need to practice more
than that now.â He said, feeling her hind leg, gently squeezing and testing it, bending the
joint and feeling the sinews shift under the skin.
She went wide-eyed and started to struggle again, but the straps kept her locked in place. He
picked up an electric trimmer and began to shave the fluff off her leg, taking it off all the
way up over her hip. Then, slow careful runs with a straight razor left her leg bare.
The glint of a scalpel was the last thing she saw before squeezing her eyes shut tight and the
pain sunk into her.
She smelled nummies. That was the first thing she noticed. Then the soreness, and an itchiness
from her leggies. Silky groaned, waking up and looking around. Meanie daddy was there, and she
tried to charge, but nothing happened. She just wiggled. Something was wrong, her legs were all
dummy.
Then she remembered. Turning as far as she could, there was just bare skin, and red x-shaped
marks where her legs used to be. Both sides, too. She had to check twice, before turning back
and staring at the human, full of hate, and fear.
He looked over at her, and smiled. âHey, youâre awake. You helped me learn a lot.â
Silky opened her mouth to scream at him, but all that came out was an airy whistling noise. She
blinked, confused, and watched as the meanie human- no wait, the monster human, picked up a
weird, pinky thing in a jar and showed it to her.
âSee this?â He said, tapping the jar. âThis is your voice. I took it out. I donât like being
yelled at by retarded vermin.â
She was a mummah, not a whatever. Which she would be more than happy to tell him if he hadnât
been a dummy and taken her pretty voice away. The words were big but still hurt, and she knew
she had been insulted.
The human went back to a portable grill, turning the meat in it over. The roasting smell was
making her hungry, and she watched him. He grinned. âWant a taste?â
She growled, but nodded. He cut off a tiny portion and offered it on a fork. âJust a little,
your throat is a bit sore.â
She nibbled on it, then chewed, taking it off the fork. It was the nummiest thing sheâd ever
had. She watched as Sam put it in a bowl for the other fluffy, who promptly chowed down on
it. Silky had never seen a fluffy eat so much meat before, but she could understand the appeal
of this meat.
Monster daddy grinned wider at her. âYour legs seem to be quite tasty.â He said.
After a moment, she realized what that meant. She threw up, into a bowl that was already in
front of her.
Then she started crying, realizing that before, she could run away. Before, she could scream
for help.
Then she heard the chirping of her babies, finally figuring out what the human wanted with
them.
Sam watched as Silky listened to the chirping, then glanced sidelong at him. The hate had been
entirely replaced by fear. He sighed, almost wistfully, and turned her on her side, putting the
milker on her. She squirmed, shaking in his hands, and watched the machine as it extracted the
milk. Sam kept a firm grip on her side, so she couldnât wiggle the cups off.
He leaned down, other hand carefully cradling her head. She started shaking harder, watching
his face.
âYou know now, donât you. Iâm going to raise your babies. Each one Iâm going to see how hard it
is to make dummy no-leggy babies. Iâll even let you watch. Theyâll see you. I wonder which
would be worse, them seeing you watch, or them seeing you refuse to watch?â
She felt the worst heart-hurties ever. Lightning jumped the gap from where he had eaten her
legs and sat in front of her, smiling with his sharp teeth glinting in the light.
âDaddeh, you onwy need one babbeh to pwactice on, wight?â
Sam thought for a moment, then nodded. âI suppose so, if I can do this to a chirpy then it
should be easily done on larger fluffies.â
Lightning looked at Sam, and they shared a moment of understanding. Sam nodded, smiling. It was not a nice smile. He detached the milker from Silky and picked her up, turning her around so
she could see her four babies.
âSilky, Lightning had a good point there. I only need to take the legs from one of your
babies.â
She stared at Sam, then at her four chirpies. One at a time, he moved them over and placed them
in front of her, letting her see and nuzzle them lightly. Her eyes started to water as she finally touched her children, nuzzling them, smelling them.
âPick, Silky.â Sam said, pulling the tray of chirpies away just a little. He touched one, a
shimmery black pegasus. âThis one?â
She shook her head, looking at them. With her nose she pointed to a mud brown filly. It was a
little small, but not quite a runt. Sam picked it up and turned it over, letting it suckle on
his little finger. âThis one? Youâre sure?â
Silky nodded. Sam turned around, putting it back in the incubator.
Lightning walked past Silky, and sat down, gently nuzzling one of the chirpies. He turned it,
nosing it around, so it was facing her.
âYou hab pwetty babbies, Siwky.â He said, and gave her a gentle boop. âVewy pwetty.â
She reached down with her nose, touching it to her babyâs forehead, for just a second.
Then Lightning bit the infant in half, with a loud crunch.
He and Silky stared at each other as he ate first one half, then the other. It only took a
moment for her to pass out, eyes rolling up in her head.
âThat was a bit dramatic, wasnât it?â Sam said.
Lightning giggled, and shrugged. âFunny though.â
Two weeks later
Silky sat on her pillow, bleary-eyed, watching her only surviving daughter in the adjacent
pen. As soon as the legless filly could speak, the mean human explained. Silky picked to have
her legs taken away. Silky didnât say anything to stop him. Her two intact children took care
of the filly. The human had given them names, but Silky couldnât remember. All she heard was a
background hum to the hate her babies spat at her on a daily basis.
The monster fluffy played with them sometime. He was always nice to them. She noticed when he
looked over and smiled with those horrible fluffy-chewing teeth. At first she feared for her
children. Then she feared for herself.
Now all she had was the hatred of her children.
The human walked in the big room with the fluffies. They all yelled and were happy, since he
was so nice. Silky barely looked over at him. He wandered through, checking on everyone, his
own monster trotting alongside. After he gave the legless filly a gentle petting, and knocked a
ball around with the two colts, he turned to Silky.
The same smile was on his face. The one she saw when he first took her from the shelter. He
crouched down and leaned over, close to Silky.
âHello, you. Iâm going to tell you something.â He said, soft. Only she could hear. She stared
ahead, at her children.
âDo you want to know why I did this?â
She blinked, and slowly turned to look at him. All she could think about, was why. Why her? Why
this? Why?
She nodded.
He sighed, smiling all the while. âIâll be honest with you. I just wanted to learn how to take
a fluffyâs legs without hurting the rest of them. I didnât need to pick a mother. I didnât need
to feed your legs to my fluffy. I didnât need your voice, or your babyâs legs, or to make them
hate you. I didnât even need to take all your legs. I could have taken just one.â
Her eyes were widening as she listened.
âYou arenât a bad fluffy. You were in fact a very nice, good fluffy. You have nice, good
fluffies for babies.â He said, slowly. âI did all those things, all those mean, horrible things
that I didnât need to do, because I wanted to.â
Very slowly, Silky turned back to her children, wide-eyed, listening.
âHurting you is fun.â
A tiny crack formed. Silky didnât understand. Things werenât supposed to be like this.
Sam watched Silkyâs expression go from numb shock to confusion. Then her face went blank. She
began trying to bash her head against the floor of the pen, but she was only lightly hitting
the cushion she sat on. He sat back and watched as she continued trying to kill herself, but
only manging a gentle impact on a pillowed surface.
Then he placed down a shallow bowl of water, a foot in front of her. Immediately her focus
changed, and she worked herself over to it over the course of a few minutes, shuffling
centimeter by centimeter.
Her face went into the water, and after a moment, she went still.
The silky, shimmering black colt walked over to the wall of his pen. âWhat munsta mummah doin?â
Sam sighed, and gently stroked the coltâs mane. âIâm afraid her heart couldnât take it
anymore. Sheâs gone forever-sleepies, Alec.â
Alec stared at his motherâs corpse. Then he huffed, blew a raspberry at her, and trotted back
to Cotton, to play more nosey-ball.
