The screams have died down. The monsters are herded out by the humans, the crowd muttering and gossiping amongst themselves as they slowly file out the door.
With the monsters gone, an almost eerie quiet descends upon e-block. It would be silent if not for the sobs and cries of mares, still hanging from their harnesses. The humans make their rounds. With gloved hands, they recover the grisly torture implements left over by the monsters. Discarded blades, still slick with fresh blood, hooks and twine, pulled from the ruined corpses of tortured babbehs, Empty containers and vials, spent of their deadly contents, the cruelest concoctions of human magic. All these and more are heaped into buckets carefully by the dispassionate humans, navigating the bloody messes of destroyed babbehs, their long not-hooves dexterously removing the abandoned tools.
You’re not paying any attention. All you can do is cry. You have the worst heart hurties EVER. You’re sure that no other fluffy has ever had heart hurties like these! All of your precious babbehs have been taken from you. Taken at their births, then taken again here. You remember the belt sander taking your babbeh’s leggies away. The screams of your filly as she was ground away alive, the spew of blood and cruel laughter as your last babbeh’s body was destroyed all the way up to his little head. Through your tears, you look downwards.
Their lifeless eyes stare upwards. Begging. Accusing. Silent.
You can’t take the sight anymore, and close your eyes again. You remember the human who wanted to save you. He tried to help you at first, but soon grew sick of you. He said you were a bad fluffy. A selfish fluffy. You don’t understand. All you wanted to do was save your babbehs. You didn’t mean to have a worst babbeh, you loved all your babbehs. You think back again. Your herd, your mummah, your two bwuddas. Maybe it started then? When your first bwudda was taken by the birdie monster. Maybe it was supposed to be you. Maybe this is your punishment for living on in his place. Maybe this is punishment for making bad poopies on the human in the breeding pits. Maybe it’s for hitting your dummy babbeh. All you know is that your babbehs did nothing wrong.
“Sowwy babbehs… Shud hab ben mummah…”
A loud ring echos throughout e-block. With a series of rapid clicks, all the harnesses in the room drop, sending fluffies tumbling to the ground. You as well, fall to the ground, right into the litterbox. You immediately crawl out and turn around. You pull your babbehs out and hold them in your hooves. They’re just as still as they were before. Their broken bodies are slick with blood, fouling your leathery hooves. Their corpses are no longer warm, the chill you feel is all wrong. Their chests no longer heave with little breaths, they do nothing but lie still, as if sleeping. Forever. Many of the other mares are holding their babbehs too, their anguished cries begining anew. Your own soon join the cacophony.
“BABBEHS! NUUUUUHUUHUUUU! HUUU HUU HUUUUUUUUU! BABEEEEHS!!!”
A different human wheels a cart up as the first human leaves, the bucket stained red as they walk out the door. The new human stops in front of your cage as you wail. The human who put you in here. He opens the door.
“So fluffball, how did you like your first few days of E-Block?”
You look up at him. While your babbehs were being hurt, all he did was stand around and laugh. The other humans were just as still. Not one of them came to help you. How could they do that? How could they just stand by and let such terrible things happen to little babbehs? Your eyes begin to water. No matter what they do to you, some part of you still sees them as wonderful magical giants that give fluffies everything they need. You should be mad, but you can’t. The sense of betrayal just never goes away, and it’s really bad now.
“W-Why hoomins nu sabe babbehs!? Why wet munstahs huwt babbehs!? Why!? Uhuuhuuhuuuuuuuuu! Babbehs!”
“Well, as I told you, you need to be a good fluffy for the light to not go on…”
“Buh- Buh- Buh munstahs huwt babbehs! Munstahs gif wowstest owwies an foevah sweepies tu babbehs! Why hoomins nu hewp fwuffies!? Huu huu huuuu!”
“Yeah, I know right? It’s like I only see you as a source of profit and don’t actually care about your wellbeing.” The human says.
“Or that of your ‘bay-behs’.” He adds, making weird motions with his fingers.
You respond with only wails. You cry and cry until he reaches for your filly.
“NU! Nu take babbeh ‘way! Babbeh… Babbeh nee’ mummah!!!” You scream, turning to hide your babbeh from him.
“Come on, hand them over, I need to recycle them soon or they’ll start rotting before we can make use of them.”
“Nu! Stay 'way fwom babbeh! Nu gif mowe huwties tu babbeh!” You cry, tears still flowing.
“How am I gonna hurt them? They’re dead.”
The human scoops up your other two babbehs, and puts them in a box on his cart.
“Come on, give it here. You don’t want ‘shockies’ do you?”
You say nothing. All you do is cry and clutch your babbeh’s cold body. Your hugs do nothing to fix her, but you do it anyways. You can’t give up yet. You can’t accept it yet. As long as you hug your babbeh tightly, you don’t have to face the truth.
“Have it your way.” The human says, putting on a thick rubber glove.
The shocks shoot through your body, white hot bolts of pain arcing out from the harness as your eyes shoot open. Your body tenses and jerks and thrashes and freezes. When the pain finally ends, you find that you don’t have your babbeh anymore. The human is holding her in his hand, the thick rubber wrapping around her body.
“Kgah- Gif… Gif babbeh…”
The human drops your babbeh in the box with your other dead babbehs. Closing the door of your cage, he moves over to sandy’s cage.
“How ya doing sandy?”
Sandy is silent.
“Your babbeh’s not looking good there. Red 4 really did him good didn’t he?”
Sandy is silent.
“Well, I’m sure you wont mind if I take him.”
The human picks her babbeh up off the floor, of the cage, the laceration where the hook was roughly pulled out spurts a bit of blood as he grasps it.
“What was that?”
“Ooooh.” The human says. “Yeah, nobody gives a shit.”
The human carelessly tosses her dead babbeh in the box and wheels the cart forward, whistling to himself.
All around the room, you can see humans doing similar things to the other mares. They take their time wrestling babbehs from bereaved fluffies.
“Put it up.”
“Nuhuuu! Nu, pweeze!”
“Put it up, I don’t have all day.”
“Nu wan! Pweeze nu take wastest babbeh! Babbeh nu fow- SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
The switch was flipped mid sentence. The grieving mare screams as her body is wracked by the voltage, her fluffy form extending and contracting under the shocks.
“Still wanna be mom of the year? It would be pretty ironic, since you’re in here for eating your god damned foal.”
“Nu… kaff Nu take wast babbeh…”
The fluffy rises to her hooves, picks up her babbeh, and waddles at full speed to the back of her cage, curling up in a ball to protect the only thing she has left.
“Ugh, god damn it! I’m not putting that filthy fucking glove on. Come here you little shit!”
The human throws open the cage door and punches the mare in her back. She screams as the human begins mercilessly beating her.
“bam Gackh! slap Gowah! slap smack crash Pahk! crack Reee!”
The human continues beating her, slamming her into the walls of the cage and slapping her repeatedly. The human grabs one of her few remaining legs and starts swinging her into the sides of the cage.
“Fucking… bam Stupid… crack Fucking… slam Shitrat…!”
The human grabs her by her fluff and begins slamming her into the floor of the cage over and over again. Her screams intensify as her arms, still holding her babbeh’s corpse, are repeatedly slammed against the hard metal. The fluff comes free on the last windup, sending her flying upwards into the topmost bars of the cage. As she falls, she loses her grip on her foal. It falls to the floor with a splat, right in front of her.
“Nu! Babbeh! Nu take-”
As she dives for her babbeh, begging for mercy, the human punches her in the face hard. She tumbles backwards all the way into the litterbox, colliding with the side of her cage with a crash. Before she can even rise to her feet, she sees the human throw her babbeh into one of the boxes. It lands on top of a pile of other silent babbehs. The human slams the cage shut.
“Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!” The mare screams, as the human moves on to the next cage.
The next mare is terrified. She holds her babbeh close and makes pleading eyes at the human.
“You gonna hand it over like a good little fluffy, or am I going to have to give you the same fucking treatment?”
The fluffy whines to herself as fresh tears blaze a dark trail down her fluffy face. With trembling hooves, she holds out her babbeh.
The human takes the babbeh and throws it into the box as well. As she leaves, the mare holds her hooves to her eyes and starts crying.
Similar scenes are playing out across the room. The workers come to collect the corpses, only for the fluffies to cry and fight them all the way, else cry and curl up into balls. For some reason, the mares are all very unwilling to part with their dead babbehs. You soon learn why.
Once all the foals are collected, the humans bring them to the vat, and start emptying the boxes into the grinder. You scream and cover your eyes as your own babbehs fall into the grinder and are pulped by its unfeeling metal maw.
The red paste falls into the vat, quickly mixing into the swirling mass of disgusting sludge. A large amount of brown water spills in afterwards, filling the tank.
“Alright fluffies! Dinner time.”
The whole room erupts into screams and crying.
“Nu!!! NU WAN NUM BABBEHS!! PWEEZE!!!”
“NU WAN! NU WAAAAAAAAN!!!”
The humans begin walking down the aisles, turning the levers on the metal pipes. The awful sludge starts spurting out into food bowls as the mares cry and beg.
“Pweeze nice mistah! Nu wan num babbehs! Pweeze nu make fwuffy num babbehs! Pweeze! Fwuffy wiww-”
The human walks to the next cage, leaving the mare to scream as her harness electrocutes her.
The next mare complies. Her babbehs were spared by the red ball, so to her, these are nummies made from her friend’s babbehs. A horrible thought, but not nearly as horrible as eating her own.
All around, the fluffies are screaming, sobbing, yelling and begging. The humans pass by, filling bowls and flicking switches if the fluffies don’t immediately start eating. A familiar human comes by your cage.
He pulls the lever, and a revolting sludge slowly spurts from the metal thing. The machine stalls, and the horrible concoction that the humans call ‘nummies’ stops coming out. Then, all at once, a huge glob of gelatinous… Something falls out of the pipe. The machine continues unabated until your bowl is completely filled. A broken bone fragment falls on top. The slurry looks absolutely disgusting and somehow smells even worse, and it’s made out of your own babbehs!
“Ooh! lucky you! Looks like you got a fatberg! I guess that’s what happens when you empty a grease trap into the vat. Then again, this is probably the closest you’re ever going to get to tasting fries… Well, eat up!”
“Nu! NU! Why!? Why num babbehs!? Nu wan num babbehs! Why!?”
“Well, meat doesn’t last forever fluffy. It goes bad. You shitrats need to eat it before it does, but dinner for the other block is already over. We really need this stuff eaten asap, so we push your dinnertime back on liquidation day. Which means you’re going to get a nice big serving. Don’t worry, C-block is going to be eating your babies for breakfast tomorrow!”
“And of course, so are you.”
No! You won’t do it! It was too much when they took your babbehs! It was too much when they hurt your babbeh! It was too much when they killed your babbehs! But now they want you to EAT your babbehs!? You won’t do it! You won’t!!!
You can’t take it anymore! You’ve had it with this place! You’re going to tell them all what bad humans they are! What a bad place this is! How they should be treating fluffies! You launch into the biggest, angriest rant of your life!
“Fowty nine nu num babbehs! Meanie hoomin-”
“Ah well, worth a shot I guess.”
The human passes you by. Leaving you to burn.
After spending what must have been forever in absolute agony, the human comes by your cage again and switches the harness off.
“Well, feel like eating your dinner now?”
The human waits patiently.
“F- Fwuf… Fwuffy…”
“Babbehs… Fwuffy wont num babbehs…”
“You sure about that? Cause mister Alessandro Volta thinks you are!”
You can’t take it. You can’t eat your babbehs, but you can’t take those owwies again, you might go insane if you have to go through that again. Fear and horror mix in your mind, hell one way, and hell another. You can’t escape.
The human’s finger creeps up to the switch…
“Nu! Nu moaw!”
“Mummah… Mummah wiww…”
“It’s fluffy. You’re not a mummah anymore, remember?”
You whine quietly. Tears fill your eyes.
“Fwuffy wiww num wowstest nummies… Pweeze nu mowe…”
“Well that’s great. Hurry up and do it then. I have like, 10 other fluffies that don’t wanna play ball.”
You don’t know what the human is talking about. There aren’t any balls here. You haven’t seen a ball in forever. But you do see your “nummies”. You see the strange glob. The horrific paste, red and brown this time. It seemed like it was always a different color. And you see the bone shard. Did it belong to your babbeh? You begin to feel sick, but you don’t have a choice. You have to eat it. You start on the slop. The taste of blood and poopies fills your mouth. Holding back your vomit, you push onwards, shoveling it into your mouth. You eat the whole pile mouthful by agonizing mouthful. It takes forever to get every last pile of goop into your mouth, and you wish all you could feel was pain. You take the bone fragment in your mouth, and thinking about your babbehs, crush it between your teeth. Tears fill your eyes as you chew it, the cartilage rich bone snapping easily in your jaws. Then it’s time for the glob.
You don’t know what it is, but it looks… old? It’s white and rubbery, and filled with what looks like fluff. All the fluff has long lost it’s color however, mixing into the white mass in light grey and brown lines. You sniff it. Big mistake. The smell isn’t very strong from far away, but up close the horrific stench is so overwhelming that you vomit on the spot. You have never smelled anything that unbelievably horrible. You look at the switch for a moment, wondering if you would be better off burning again, but the glob edges it out. Barely.
“Oh shit, I need to record this…” The human says, reaching into his pockets.
You take the mass into your mouth, trying to chew it and swallow it as quickly as possible, but it’s impossible. The mass won’t break, it just squishes in your mouth, bending and warping and releasing horrible tasting juices into your mouth. Loose strands of old fluff fall out of the blob, crunching in your teeth and almost dissolving in your mouth. The chewy thing just keeps squishing in your mouth, the worst thing you’ve ever tasted and you just cant swallow it.
Finally, after forever, it breaks into chunks small enough to swallow. You collapse as soon as you swallow the last piece. You lie on the ground and cry.
“Well, that wasn’t so hard was it? Good night, sleep tight, and remember, be a good fluffy. Maybe the next foals won’t die right?” The human walks away with a laugh.
You think about the human’s words. You remember your tummy babbehs.
It’s not over. It won’t be over for a long time.
You want to die.
The next installment will probably be the last. Tell me what you predict will happen to fourty nine.
Fatbergs are a real thing by the way.