You open the door of your car and step out. Before you is a familiar sight. The old brewery. You grab out the carrier and close the door of your warm car, cutting off the last of it’s heat as you enter the cold in earnest. You walk up the pathway to the doors and invite yourself in. As you enter the front of the building, some of the workers stop to look at you.
“Morning, I’m here to see Katz.”
One of the people tells you to go down the hall and into the second door on the left. You thank her and leave. Everyone returns to their work.
You make your way through the hall and into the aforementioned room. Past the doors are a quaint office. There’s a window, some old wooden furniture and work surfaces, a lot of filing cabinets, and an older looking man with an impressive goatee. He raises an eye at you as you enter the room.
“Morning. I’m here about a call I got from Katz? He says he has some product for me.”
“Product? …Oh! Yeah, Katz is in E-Block right now. Just head down the hall, all the way to the end, and you’ll see the sign. Need me to show you?”
“Oh no. I know where I’m going. Thanks.” You say.
You walk down the hallway, all the way to the end, as the man said. Things start to become more and more familiar until you come across a set of doors you’ve seen many times before. E-Block. The pegs to the right are all dark, with the rings all hanging off of them properly. Strange, they seem differently shaped than you remember. There’s an upwards slope towards the end now. Someone must have been having problems with them slipping off.
You walk right through the doors and into a room full of amazingly miserable looking fluffies. You walk down the aisles, looking for Katz. As you do, you pass by a few cages. Most of the fluffies inside shrink away as you approach, muttering comments about monsters. You look down at one, piercing it’s dark red eyes. It backs up against the wall of it’s cage, and slowly begins to shake, averting it’s eyes. Did you get to this one? You don’t remember her. But you do remember another one. You decide to stop by and visit her cage for a bit. Just a short little walk and you’re in front of a cage containing a miserable looking mare, and with two foals still in it. Lucky her.
“Wook mummah! Am dancie babbeh!” One of the foals says, as it stands on it’s hind legs and shakes it’s forelegs awkwardly.
“Mummah! Wook at babbeh! Am dancie tu!” Says the other foal, sitting down and waving it’s forelegs back and forth.
“Babbehs bouf haf su pwetty dancies… Wub babbehs…” She says. She smiles, but she still seems sad. And old. This fluffy can’t be more than a year old, but she already looks middle aged…
“Hello Blueberry.” You say.
She freezes. Looks like she remembers you. Unsurprising. She slowly turns her head to look at you, and her eyes widen in terror.
“N-Nu! Nu huwt babbehs 'gain!” She screams, snatching up her foals and hiding in the back corner of the cage. Her foals complain about the awful smell.
“Hahaha, don’t worry blueberry! I’m here for a different fluffy!”
She continues to hide in the corner, trembling, her foals writhing in her grasp. After she hears your comment, she turns her head to look at you. Her eyes are full of tears. She doesn’t say anything.
“But I think I’m about done with her… Maybe you’re next?” You say.
“Nu! Pweeze! Nu gif owwies tu babbehs 'gain! Bwoobewwy nu can woose dis babbehs! Pweeze!” She cries, still trembling.
“Well, I guess you had better be a good fluffy then. It would sure be terrible if you let your babbehs get hurt again because you’re a bad fluffy…” You say. No response.
You leave her cage to search for Katz in earnest. As you depart, you hear them speak.
“Nu huwt babbehs… Not wike oddah babbehs… Nu mowe huwties fow babbehs… Bwoobewwy nu can hab nu mowe heawt huwties… Nu can… Nu can…” She mutters, tears staining her face.
“Mummah? Why mummah haf saddies? Whas oddah babbehs?” One of the foals say.
After a bit of searching, you find Katz standing in another corner of the room, discussing something with the guy who handles the auctions. You didn’t know he actually worked on the floor. Huh.
“Well, we could try just putting a curtain up.” The auctioneer says.
“Yeah, but the smarties would still be able to hear the liquidations.” Katz says.
“Yeah, but so can some of the C-blockers, and they’re fine. If they don’t have any context for the screaming, they still won’t know anything.”
“That’s because the C-block fluffs are behind a wall. They can’t hear words. If the smarties hear things like ‘Nu huwt babbehs!’ and shit, they’ll piece it together.”
“True, true. Maybe leave this area as a breeding pit and put the smarties in another room? We can just stack them up in cages. If we hook the sludge lines up to a hose and a tap, we could probably fill their food bowls without needing to open the cages.” The auctioneer says.
“I’m not sure we can get that to work with the tubes. In the normal system, the slop falls back down into the vat, but if it’s stuck in a hose, It probably wont be able to make it back up. This shit rots quick. Then again, we’ll be using it multiple times a day…”
“Yeah, we can just keep the little shits in a broom closet or something, then bring them down to the corner here on breeding day. Or put them in the front cages and just wheel them into the hallway when the block’s being liquidated.”
“No, then the mares will gossip to them. We could just leave them in C-block though, but then again, I don’t want them harassing the guys in C-block.”
“Well, we could just put them in the closet, then bring the shitslop in cans. I’ve been thinking about canning this stuff and selling it as a fluffy food alternative. Either to abusers or other mills. We could brand it and everything.”
“One idea at a time Seth. But that’s pretty interesting. Tell me more about that later.” Katz says.
You decide to interrupt their conversation. It doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon.
“Hey, Katz. It’s me.” You say.
“Oh. Ewan. Right, I forgot I called you! Sandy’s finally started looping.” Katz says.
“That’s some fine work you did. I swear, that little shitrat was losing her fucking marbles because of what you were doing to the foals! Making her choose which eyes you take out? What you do is art my man.”
“Thanks.” You say.
“Seth will show you to her cage, I’ll keep measuring out space for the pits. We might need two or three for this room.” Katz says.
“See you around.” He adds.
You nod to him and Seth beckons you to follow. You walk down the aisle some way and arrive at Sandy’s cage. She’s got a muzzle on her face, but a soft muttering still escapes her mouth. You were used to seeing her terrified eyes, pleading and desperate. But now her empty, dead eyes stare off into nothing, heedless of even your presence.
“Well, here she is. She was talking some shit about how she didn’t want any more ‘owwie babbehs’, so we cut off her legs just in case she got any smart ideas about ruining the product. She started looping a little bit after that.” Seth says.
He takes the muzzle off her face. The chorus begins immediately.
“Wan die… Wan die… Wan die… Wan die…”
“As you can see, she’s done for. Not sure what you want her for though. She’s not going to eat, and she won’t be much fun like this…”
“I have a use for her.” You say, putting the muzzle back on and placing her into your carrier. You and Seth head out to your car.
“So, one last thing. Do you think there’s any problems with E-block? Anything that really annoys you? We’re copying a lot from the guys in Atlanta, but this whole concept is still in its infancy, so we’re always looking for fresh input.” Seth says.
“Well, I don’t know if I have anything I can add. This place is really convenient for casual abusers. You don’t have to worry about building your own setup or worrying about soundproofing or smuggling fluffies into your home in the dead of night. Or cleaning up for that matter. I can’t really think of any criticisms right now, sorry.” You tell him.
“Oh, well thanks anyways. Have a great rest of your day. You’re a valued customer here you know.” Seth says.
You laugh and thank him, putting Sandy into your car. He waves you off as you drive away. Soon you’re on the road again. Unfortunately, you’re not moving very fast. You’re stuck in traffic, courtesy of, apparently, some dumbass who crashed his car drunk driving, according to the radio. Well that’s just great. Needing some entertainment, you open Sandy’s mouth covering.
“Wan die… Wan die… Wan die…” She mutters continuously, like a metronome. You take in the sweet song as you look at the cars around you. Most of them are just regular cars filled with people going to or from work, but on your right side is a big white van. Inside, there’s a large, dark skinned man fiddling with a bag, and a brown haired woman driving. They don’t seem to be talking. You look at the side of the van. Sunset Roads it says. That’s the no-kill shelter on the other side of town. Maybe you should pay them a visit. You prefer already broken in fluffies, but a rescue shelter might have something to your tastes…
Eventually, you make it home. You put the muzzle back on Sandy and put her carrier into a cardboard box. Then you take the box into your house. You walk past your living room and into the kitchen. You take sandy out and place her down on the island to begin the operation.
You put her on her side and make an incision near her stomach, her mutterings become ragged and lose their cadence as you work your knife into her body, soon rising into a scream as you feed the tube into her stomach. You fasten the tube to her stomach, then stitch up the entrance wound. Once she’s done, you pick her up and carry her into the basement, coming up to a heavy door. You put your key into it and open it up. The noise hits you instantly.
“WAN DIE. WAN DIE. WAN DIE. WAN DIE.”
In the room, dozens of fluffies repeat the mantra. All of them hooked up to tubes. A nutrient rich slurry pours through them and directly into their stomachs, extending their forsaken lives in perpetuity. Soon, Sandy will join them.
You place her into a shelf and hook her up to the tube. The timing mechanism will spill food and water into her stomach at regular intervals, eliminating the need for eating or drinking, the main issue with keeping looping fluffs alive. She’ll be here for a nice, long time. Her muttering is still out of tune with the rest of the choir, but that’s nothing a stun gun won’t fix.
You shock her with a handheld tazer. She yelps every time, but begins to chant again soon after. You do it over and over again. She needs to be perfectly in tune with the rest…
Eventually, she settles into tune with the rest of the fluffies. You walk over to your recliner and pour yourself a glass of whiskey. The fluffies continue their song.
“WAN DIE. WAN DIE. WAN DIE. WAN DIE.”
Now the chorus contains the voice of sandy. Just one of dozens. You lean back and drink, enjoying the sounds of abject misery. This is where she’ll be for probably the rest of her life. A living speaker, trapped in this dark basement. You’ve had fluffies live for quite a while down here. The nutrient paste really does it’s work. You could probably adjust it more carefully though, the main cause of death down here is heart attack brought on by their cholesterol rich diet. That can take quite a while though, and the replenishment rate of fluffies is usually more than enough to keep the cubbies full. Still, there’s one empty space left. You start to think about Blueberry.
Maybe she’d look good there. Or maybe you can find something at that shelter. You’ll pay them both a visit later, but for now, you just take it all in. Your choir of torment. Their empty eyes stare ahead at you as they repeat their never ending chant, trapped forever inside their own minds. You think for a moment that they look almost lonely. But that’s nothing to worry about.
They’ll have new friends soon.
That’s it for sandy. We’ve still got the afterstory for rarity and the epilogue. Stay tuned.
