“Whoooo’s ready for skettiland?!” Tricia asked, pushing open the safe room door. You groaned at her tone, she nailed the grating pitch fluffies managed to have at all times.
You are Michael Hornady, Executive Compliance Officer at Rainbow Acres LLC. You had been so happy to get the job offer after the owners tour, just look at that word! Executive. What a title! It didn’t come with any sort of raise, which was odd looking back on it but you were just so excited to get away from these vermin. They promised paid training, a desk in the main office, and three whole sick days a year!
And now here you are, wearing a too-large pink jumpsuit and pushing a cart into a room full of squealing shitrats. How far you had fallen. This was the paid training, doing every single filthy job in every Biotoy facility the company owned to learn how it was done properly. There was no way around it, the only way the state would certify you was if you had done every disposal, feeding, and sorting protocol yourself at least once.
“Daisy wan gu! Wan gu!!” A yellow mare yelled as she jumped to her hooves, knocking her tiny foals aside in her excitement.
“Sorry honey, I can’t let you leave your babies behind!” Tricia chided. “When I call your name, come up to my friend Mikey here and he’ll give you the best upsies!” She said, winking at you.
To add insult to injury, of all the people to be training you, it had to be Tricia. She had taken over your old office and thought she was hot shit. You couldn’t complain or she wouldn’t sign off that you’d done the work. So you had to bite your tongue. Giving her a quick glare from behind your paper mask, you held out your arms as the fluffies cheered.
“Alright, let’s start with…” Tricia looked to the clip board resting on the top of the wire cart. “Abbey!”
“Yay! Sketties!!” A red mare jumped up from a pile of pillows skipping over to you. Her deflated teats dragged behind her, you swallowed your disgust and tried to give at least a neutral face to the fluffy as you picked her up.
“It weawwy am bestest uppies!” The mare squealed as you set her into the plastic cart.
“What did I tell you, my friend Mikey here is the best at uppies.” Her voice dripped with mockery. You refused to let her know how badly she was getting to you, chewing the inside of your cheek. You were glad protocol included a medical mask, it not only protected you from whatever disgusting things these creatures could get in your mouth, it let you hide your expression.
“Ellie, you’re next!” A grey and blue mare slowly got to her hooves and began to trot over to you.
“Yay! Fwends gu to skettiwand togebah!” A pale green mare jumped up to follow her, but Tricia stuck her foot out to stop her.
“I’m sorry sweetie, you’re not on the list.” She said, putting on an over the top display of sadness.
“Buh… buh…” the mare plopped down on the floor, starting to sniffle.
“I know, I’m sorry.” Tricia patted her on the head. “I’m sure I’ll come for you next time.”
“Buh… wan guuu!” She whined, pawing at Tricia’s boot.
“Now Fern,” Tricia put her hands on her hips. “do you need some shockies to remember how to be a good fluffy?”
The fluffy gasped, jumping back. “Nu! Sowwy!”
“That’s better.”
The grey mare made it to your feet, huffing and puffing after walking only a few feet. You wondered what was wrong with her as you set her in the cart as well.
“Let’s see who’s next… Gracie!”
“Yaaaay!” A pink mare tumbled out of a blanket bundle, trotting over to you. You didn’t need to wonder what was wrong with this one, you could see the inflammation on her teats as you picked her up, the skin around each nipple was marked with angry red patches.
“And finally Buddy!”
Across the room from you an obese brown fluffy lifted his head and blinked at her. “Tricia wan sumtin’?”
“Yep, you’re coming with us!” Tricia said, grinning at you. “But I think Mikey here should just pick you up where you are.”
She couldn’t be serious. You looked at her, aghast at the idea of touching the greasy, bloated creature, but Tricia just smiled at you. That horrid, sly smile she’d had since the tour. Ugh.
You groaned quietly to yourself, thankful for the gloves that were required with the uniform. Buddy lifted his front hooves laboriously as you approached, rolls of fat hanging down from his neck and shoulders. The studs always looked like this; fat, lazy slobs that did nothing but eat and fornicate. You got your hands approximately where his armpits should be and lifted his hefty form into the air. Your back made some small complaints as you did, your shoulders aching at the stiff-armed hold that kept him as far from your body as possible.
“Miss Tricia?” The yellow mare, Daisy, spoke up. “If Buddeh gu tu skettiwand, den who gib enfies fo’ babbehs?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. You’re all going to skettiland as soon as all the babies are grown!” Tricia’s voice was dripping with saccharine sweetness.
The fluffies all cheered as you lowered the greasy biotoy into the cart with the others. Idiotic creatures, celebrating their future deaths.
Tricia patted a few of the happy mares’ heads as she led you out of the breeding room and back out to the floor.
“You did good! I thought you’d lose it and I’d finally get to hear you swear!” She chuckled at you over her shoulder as she led you down the metal pathway.
“You told me specifically not to.” You growled back at her.
“Yeah, but newbies never listen.” She skipped in front of you, whistling to herself.
Newbie. You had worked in this building almost as long as she had. Just because you were never one of the underpaid grunts on the production floor didn’t mean you were new to the business. The lower workers never understood how important the office jobs were. Papers needed filed, authorizations signed, spreadsheets looked over. Far more important than talking to infantile biotoys!
“And here we are, the door to Skettiland!” Tricia pressed her badge against a door labeled DISPOSAL in big, glittery red letters.
The fluffies in your cart babbled excitedly as you pushed them into the room, the door shutting firmly behind you. Tricia flicked on the lights, stepping behind a shiny white curtain and rummaging around. “So I’ll do the first few and then you can try it.”
“Sounds fun.” You seethed. If it was literally anyone else you would ask them just to show you how, beg them to just say that you did. That wouldn’t fly with Tricia. You knew her too well, you could see how much she enjoyed watching you squirm.
“Let’s see…” She came back from behind the curtain, looking over the wire cart of biotoys. “Who should go first?”
All the mares started chattering and begging all at once, the din in the small room hurting your ears. Tricia reached in and grabbed the grey mare by the scruff. “Let’s start with you, honey.”
She motioned for you to follow her as she carried the biotoy to her doom. Behind the white curtain was a metal table, a red biowaste bin, and a gun-shaped thing you didn’t recognize.
“So, before you go to Skettiland, we need to give you a small pointy-hurty.” Tricia said, setting the tired grey fluffy on the metal table.
“Huu… Otay nice wady…” the mare whined, but extended her hoof for the shot.
“Not quite, honey.” Tricia picked up the gun-shaped thing. “This one has to go into your think place, so just close your eyes and it’ll be over before you know it.”
“Otay…” the mare squished her eyes shut, shaking slightly with anticipation.
Tricia pressed the end of the thing to her forehead and pulled the trigger.
CLACK!
The mare was shoved backwards by the force, forehead bashed in, sliding backwards across the smooth table and into the biowaste bin.
“And that’s the cleanest way of doing it.” Tricia pulled out a rag and wiped a small spray of blood off the end.
“What is that thing?” You asked.
“It’s called a knocker. Basically a gun without the bullet.” She set it back on the table and walked back to the cart of fluffies.
“Nu wan pointy-hurties, Miss Twicia…” Abbey whined as she was lifted out of the cart.
“Oh I know honey, but we don’t want anyone in Skettiland getting sick.” She soothed, patting her on the head as she took the red mare to the table.
It was diabolical, how friendly and comforting she was bringing the bio units to the gallows. It made sense, they stayed calm and agreeable right up until the end.
“So if you have a lot to do there’s a faster method.” Tricia said, grabbing the knocker.
“Oh? What is-”
Before you could even finish the question she pressed the knocker to the back of Abbey’s skull and pulled the trigger. Her head flopped forward, a small squeak escaped her.
“It’s way faster but it doesn’t fully send them to Skettiland.” She dumped the twitching red mare onto the table.
You watched in horror as the biotoy moved unnaturally, hooves slowly wriggling and lips opening and closing. Tricia pushed her forward off the table and into the biowaste bin still very much alive.
“But… she’s not…” you stammered.
“She’ll be there in a minute.” Tricia replied, no emotion in her voice. “It’s your turn, go grab Buddy.”
You slowly made your way back to the cart, swallowing your disgust. If you did this, you would be done. You would never have to do it again. You could be able to put the biotoys out of your mind entirely.
You hefted the obese brown fluffy, tucking him under your arm and moving much more quickly to minimize the amount of time you would be in contact with the greasy creature.
“So you’ll need to tell him all the stuff I said earlier.” With the mask on her face you couldn’t see Tricia’s grin but the tone of her voice gave it away.
“To go to Skettiland you need a… pointy-hurty…” You said, grimacing at the infantile language you had to use. “So close your eyes and I’ll administer it.”
“Otay, Mistah.” Buddy closed his eyes, resting his chin on his hooves.
Tricia slid the knocker across the table to you, and you held it to his forehead. You took a deep breath, closing your own eyes as you pulled the trigger.
“CLACK!”
“SCREEEEEEEEE!”
Your eyes shot back open, looking down at the fluffy corpse before you. His forehead was caved in, brain matter splattered onto his muzzle. You turned to see the curtain next to you pulled aside by a mischievous looking Tricia, the remaining pink mare screeching in horror at the dead fluffy before her.
“What? Why did-”
“Oh I wish I had a camera!” Tricia interrupted you. “You should see your face!”
“But-but the fluffy-” you stammered.
“Yeah, she gets to see behind the curtain!” Tricia cackled, releasing the curtain. “However much I love pulling this on people, you should know what to do when something goes wrong.”
“NU WAN FOEBAH SWEEPIES!!” Gracie wailed, running frantically around the wire cart. “NU WAN NU WAN NU- EEP!”
Tricia grabbed her by the tail, holding her flailing in the air. “Dispose of the biowaste and I’ll show you what to do in this case.”
You gave the mass of fluff and fat a shove, hearing it land heavily in the bin behind the table. Tricia slammed the mare down on the smooth metal, pressing a hand firmly down on her back.
“Now with her struggling like this you can’t reliably get the skull. Don’t try while you’re holding her head or you could fuck up your hand.” She took the knocker from you and started lining it up with the base of the flailing fluffy’s neck.
“AM GUUD FWUFFY, NU WAN! GWACIE AM SOWWY FO’ WHA’ DU, NU WAN FOEBAH SWEEPIES!!” she wailed, hooves finding no purchase on the metal surface.
“So keep your hands out of the way, turn the knocker upside down like this and aim for right above the shoulders.”
“PWEAZE MISS TWICIA, GWACIE WAN-”
CLACK!
The pink fluffy fell silent, hooves falling limp. You released a small sigh of relief as Tricia released the fluffy corpse.
“And it’s done. It happens from time to time that they figure it out, so it’s good to know.” She said, wiping the knocker clean again. “And if they’re fed before they come in here, you’ll have to dodge the shit spray. We fast before culling most of the time to avoid it.”
“Do they always defecate when they die?” You asked.
“Oh, this one isn’t dead.”
“…What?”
Tricia flipped the mare over, her terrified magenta eyes fixing on you. Her lips were moving but no sound came from her. “It just severed her spine, she’ll suffocate in a moment here.”
You watched in horror as the mare tried to beg you for help, unable to make her lungs work. Tricia watched with you for a moment before shoving her off the table to join the others in the bin.
“Yeah, we usually try to do it a little cleaner, but if they’re struggling that’s the most reliable hit you can get.” She set the knocker back on the table. “You got your sanitation training already, right?”
“Uh… yes…?” You couldn’t look away from the bin, where two still living fluffies waited for death to come for them.
“Great!” She pulled off her gloves, tossing them into the bin. “You can mop up in here then.”
“Wait-”
“Thanks Hornady!” she grabbed the cart, quickly pushing it out the door before you could protest.
You sighed heavily, looking around the room for the cleaning supplies. A few months ago you wore a tie to work every day, had coffee on your desk before you even arrived. Now you cleaned up the mess dead shitrats left behind. How far you had fallen.