Streak's Tale Complete (1/3) by:2Minds1Body

My dear fluffy community family. I have finally finished Streak’s Tale and will be moving on to The Break of Dawn, and remasters of my other stories. If while reading you stumble upon any grammatical errors, or just in general reading errors, do let me know. I will be posting this on FluffyCommunity.com as my first official post. Un fortunetly i can’t post this on the sub-reddit as it breaks the character limit.

Please take a seat, get snug in this cold day, and enjoy Streak’s Tale part 1.

Prologue: The Back Alley
It had been a tough life for Black Monster and White Monster, both of them had been abandoned as babies, but they had found each other. They had wandered a park seen some strange plant looking fluffies being pulled by a man, had found this alley where a fluffy had made a safe-place symbol, and now they had one baby. It was white baby with a pretty black stripe. The two were happy and safe, but this life was short lived.
Three fluffies approached the alicorn couple. One was a unicorn smarty, with him was two mares, one pregnant and the other had a docked tail, the symbol of infertility among fluffies. The smarty spoke, “Go ‘way ugwy munsta fwuffies. Dis am smawty’s home nao.” The Black stallion alicorn took a defensive stance and lowered his horn, “Bwing it, dummeh.” An alicorn’s horn is sharper and harder than a unicorn’s horn, it is also slightly curved.
The smarty puffed up its cheeks in retaliation and ran at the stallion. The stallion side stepped the smarty, who went passed the two alicorns and rammed into a cardboard box, up-setting it. The smarty half climbed out and grinned with glee. The white mare spun around, lowering her horn in anticipation. The infertile mare had been rearing up to try and stomp on the mare’s rear, where the baby was, instead she impaled herself on the sharp horn.
The Smarty screeched in horror as his ‘effie toy’ bled out, her heart punctured, but it was the pregnant mare who was truly mad, “NU SISSY NU! BAD MUNSTA FWUFFIE GO FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!” The pregnant mare lowered her horn and began sparing with the white alicorn. Meanwhile the black alicorn toppled the box over, tossing the Smarty aside, and they too began sparing. The smarty side stepped the alicorn, but instead of sending the him into the wall, the alicorn tilted his head and slashed the side of the smarty; but he did hit his head on the wall. The smarty took advantage of this and bit the alicorn’s left testicle. The alicorn yelped and spun around. The smarty stabbed forward striking into the breast of the alicorn. The alicorn stepped back, breathed, and charged. The smarty found himself impaled on the alicorn’s horn. Both males began choking on blood and their lungs filled with blood, the smarty died and the alicorn crawled to his mate.
The mares stopped and stared. The smarty’s mate used the surprise to stab the mare in the neck. “Stoopi’ munsta, nao gud fwuffie wiww gib 'ou dummeh babbeh foweba sweepies,” the mare walked towards the box where the baby had been safely deposited. The mare saw red and stabbed her horn into the other mare’s vagina, thrashing her head back and forth. The pregnant mare screamed and spun, spraying her aborted babies onto the walls and was met with a horn to the throat.
Both alicorn parents crawled to the baby and hugged it one last time. The rain started, the baby awoke and began cheeping for her mother and father. A figure bent down over the sad scene.
“Another reason I hate this job. They purposely programmed the Fluffies to call these little guys monsters and kill them on sight.” The figure was holding an umbrella and was talking to an unseen figure. “They are a lot more common than people think, they’re just… hated.”
“If you hate working for them, then why don’t you quit?”
“It’s not that easy Noah, sigh. I’m a bio-engineer it’s still a young field, there are no other places looking for them. Plus, not everyone can be a bar-bouncer.”
“Eh. okay bro see-ya. Nice catching up with you.” One figure left, but the other stayed, reached down, picked up the fluffies, and went home.

Chapter 1: The Streak’s Beginning
Eric had sworn off all fluffies, but this was different. This coloration of this baby was the rarest of Gen. 2, white with a black stripe down her back. Her wings were creme white, and her horn was ebony black. Eric stopped at fluffy mart and bought a gallon of fluffy-milk. The cashier gave him a stare, “You’re not going to drink that I hope.” Eric gagged at the thought, but then considered, “Well fluffy milk is more nutritious, and has all the same anti-bodies, and more. But no, this is for this motherless foal.” Aris indicated the bundle of cloth in his hand. The cashier breathed a sigh of relief. Eric stopped and looked at the newer bottle designs, they looked exactly like a normal fluffy mare’s breast. Eric did not bye then, but he did bye the ‘mama sent,’ would be helpful when training the foal.
Eric brought the baby home it was about two weeks old, and hungry. The bottle was placed at her lips. The foal did not recognize the taste of the nipple offered, but it did smell like a mama, and she was hungry. The foal began suckling to her hearts content. When she was full, she stopped suckling, Eric rubbed her back causing her to let out a tiny burp. Afterwards, she cooed, and then started squirmed her lower legs around. Eric grabbed a towel and held her over it, rubbing he stomach, she emptied her bladder onto the towel. Satisfied and full of milk, she went to sleep, hugging what held her tightly. Eric smiled at the small thing; she was small for her age, and would need constant feeding.
Foal slings have been a concept, but they were never officially made. ‘Time to put my engineering classes to work.’ The sling would need to be a strong cloth with a place for a bottle and a urine pad. The warmth would have to come from the actual human, and mama sent would be used to set the foal at ease. Finally, the sling would be lined with actual fluffy fur, Cire went back for the black and white alicorns and skinned them, burying them in the front yard. He tanned the skin, but used a method that allowed the parent’s sent to remain. The baby snuggled into the newly made fluffy sling, and this worked so well that she ignored the little diaper that was used instead of a urine pad. Raising the little creature was very easy, to take care of her, Eric just had to change the diaper once a day, use warm water to clean her, hand wash the fluffy-sling, and then re-fresh the mama sent.
When Victoria saw Eric waring a fluffy sling that had a baby in it, she was unsurprisingly stunned, “I thought you swore off fluffies.” Eric shrugged, “Her parents died protecting her, and she was, well is, only two weeks old so… I took her in.” Victoria smiled, shook her head, and returned to her desk. Five minutes later she came back with a box of files labeled, “Aquafluffy testing reports.” Eric opened it and took out the files labeled fresh, which was about one half of the entire box and began sorting. Victoria grabbed the ones labeled salt and brackish, and also began sorting. There were four bins in front of them, abuse, N.H.C, no human contact, and hugbox. The bins corresponded to how the fluffies were raised, and abuse was, unfortunately, the most popular.
When the day was done, Eric headed back to the alley to find a new family of fluffies had moved into the box. Noah had been keeping an eye on them. It was a blue and yellow mare, a red and orange stallion with their four babies, two of which were brown. “Surprisingly, the mother treats all her babies alike.” “Ah then they must be decedent for Alicorn types. No neural implants in their brains.” Explaining the neural implants was not easy, but it was certainly simpler than the genetic make-up of fluffies.
Eric had not used the safe room for a while, but now he had a foal to prepare for. It was a simple update, auto-cleaning litter boxes, a night light, padded floors and walls, a small climbing tower, a nest and pillow, and in a back corner was the sorry box and stick, which Eric was hoping he would not have to use. When the little baby was two and a half weeks old, the mucus holding her eyes closed fell away and she was instantly aware of movement. Eric was reading files and sorting them. Some ass-hole teenagers killed a bunch of feral fluffies and tossed their corpses into the arroyo scarring all the Aquafluffies working to gather trash and all other waste items, that were not organic. The aqua fluffies would build a giant nest out of the trach, and once a month a work crew came to collect the gathered waste. All the fluffies would be safely transported to an out-cropping deigned for them, and then the process would repeat.
The baby began cheeping, a normal sign of hunger, and Eric subconsciously reached down and moved the baby closer to the bottle and then rubbed its back. The baby flipped over and stared at the man above her, “da… da da daddeh?” Eric did not hear the voice at first, taking it to just be the baby suckling, but when it said ‘daddeh’ he looked down. The foal smiled and struck the ‘hugs please’ pose. Eric reached down and picked up the foal and lifted it up to his face. The filly reached across and hugged? Eric’s nose.
Leaving Hasbio was now interesting, Victoria had almost petted the filly to death over how ‘adowabow’ she was. Noah raised an eye-brow, but still chatted for a while. Eric brought the filly home and washed her took care of her diaper, etc. But then instead of just putting her to bed, he put her on a towel which he placed on his lap and read aloud one of the tales from, “The Complete Works of the Brothers Grimm,” but the filly fell asleep halfway through the first tale. Eric put her in her nest, on his un-used bedside table, but he himself did not go to bed. Instead he went to the basement.
Cire was having a blast. Earlier in the week a smarty and his herd had banged on his door and instantly flew into demanding ‘sketties, toysies, warmies, etc.’ Cire looked down at the thing, it’s puffed up cheeks reminding him of himself. The smarty growled, purred really, but still turned its rump towards Cire and said, “Dummeh hooman, nu wisten to smawty. Den get wowstes’ sowwy poopies.” Cire booted the creature directly in the balls, “SCREEE! Hu huuu. Why gib owwies tu fwuffy? Smawty am gud fwuffie.” Cire looked over the herd, there was only ten of them, all mares and pregnant, but in the back was a stallion, a brown stallion. At that time one of the mares walked up to it, turned around, and sprayed the stallion with poop. The stallion pathetically licked the mare’s ass clean. At this, Cire saw red, and the herd stopped dead, it had suddenly gotten colder.
Cire grabbed out his phone, opened an app, grabbed the smarty, and hit a button labeled ‘connect.’ The smarty screamed as the neural implant in his brain buzzed to life. Through the app, Cire forced the smarty to stomp on his most beautiful mare’s legs, the other mares began screaming and running for the street, but they were so pregnant, they could not move as fast. The smarty was crying and begging for his legs to stop, but it only took two minutes to break the legs of all his mares. The shit eater did not move, to afraid to do anything the smarty had not told him to do. The smarty’s implant stopped buzzing as Aris closed the app, and the smarty began crying and breaking down as his mares began asking him why “he was so mean to them.” Cire went to the shit eater picked him up and took him inside.
Once inside Cire cleaned him and fed him took him to the outside of the park, and told him about the herd of fluffies where only bad colors lived. As for the rest of the smarty’s herd, Cire took them all to the basement the Smarty at first refused to follow, but the cries of his mare brought him through the house down the stairs and into the secret room. The mares were now pillowed and Cire made certain to rub the ‘special’ mare’s stumps. “Pwease stahp touchin’ fwuffie dewe. Hu miss weggies,” she saw the smarty, “Speshuw fweind hewp bestest spechiw fwen.” Cire turned around and grabbed the smarty up, and before it could shit itself, he shoved a tampon up his ass. The smarty screamed in pain, “AHHH! Poopy pwace hab wowstes’ huwties. Gib sowwy poopies.” The shit rat pushed, but, thanks to the tampn, it just kept backing up. He stopped trying and just began crying. Cire hooked up hoses from each mare’s ass to the smarty’s mouth, “Now you will eat shit for the rest of your life.”
Two nights later the mares gave birth. Cire was there and waiting, when all the babies were out, he sewed the mare’s vaginas shut. He then commanded the smarty to eat all the pretty babies or lose his legs. The stallion ate the babies. The mares had been silenced, but were trying scream with all their might. The non-pretty babies suckled the mares dry and began cheeping for more milk. Cire picked up each baby and placed them in a sling. It was almost dawn when he found the herd of non-pretty fluffies. He saw the old shit eater from the herd, but passed by. There were a few mares around that had babies. None of them were ‘pretty,’ but that did not matter. Carefully he placed the seven new babies in a fluff-pile in the middle, and also dropped a bunch of carrots and potatoes next to the pile of babies.
Cire went back to the crying mares and smarty, all of them were on the floor together. The smarty was desperately trying to get them to look at him. The mares hated him and Cire loved it. He then asked, “Should I give the smarty worsted hurtires?” The mares nodded but the smarty said, “Nu. Pweese nu huwties. Hu huu huuuu.” Cire grabbed and ripped of his cock and balls. The smarty screamed. Using some tongs, Cire grabbed the smarties hooves and pulled them off. The Finally using a knife Cire mad an incision along the base of the smarty’s lower legs and pulled the skin over and off leaving the bare fluffy on the ground screaming. Cire cut out the thing’s vocal cords. He then hung him on a hook. Cire took the mares, pitched them into his composter barrel, and turned the crank burying the mares. Cire wrote up a report on their responses and left it for Eric.
The body of Eric and Cire was tired. Fortunately, Saturday was the next day, so it slept in. During that time the minds of Eric and Cire dreamed together, talking and exploring vast caverns, flying high to the clouds, but something dragged them awake, the hungry cheeping of the baby alicorn.

Chapter 2: I Name You Streak
Eric and Cire woke up at the same time their body was weak and tired, but the baby came first. Cire retracted into the mind, and let Eric handle the filly. The baby was cheeping as loud as it could. Eric shook his head and looked at the child. It stopped cheeping and looked up at Eric, “Sowwy daddeh, buh babbeh nee’ to mak’ poopies.” Eric sighed and picked up the child and the sling. The kitchen was small, but had everything. Eric put a five-quart pot on the stove to begin warming the fluffy milk. He then held the baby over the trashcan and rubbed her stomach. Five minute later she was in a diaper and snuggling into the sling’s fluff five more minutes later the bottle was in place and the baby began to suckle.
More of the baby’s mane, tail, and just in general fluff, was developing quickly, almost as if to make up for the delayed eyes and voice. The baby had a black streak running down her back from her mane to her tail. Her black horn was longer and getting that alicorn curve, but her wings were almost as big as her flanks. “Hmm not to get your hopes up little one, but your wings might be big enough to actually glide.” The baby just continued suckling. When she had drank a quarter cup, she burped, snuggled into the sling again, and went to sleep. Eric smiled happily; this baby was, well, adorable. There came a ‘tip tap tapping’ from the front door, Eric groaned. He opened the door and saw a brown fluffy with a green mane sitting there. “Hewwo Mistaw, smawty said to fank ‘ou fo’ dah babbehs an’ nummies.” Eric stared, then realized, ‘this fluffy was from the reject herd,’ then replied, “Okay tell him he’s welcome.” The fluffy nodded and turned away; it stopped and smelled a flower, Rose’s flower.
Streak had been watching this interaction, and was curious, but sleep over came her, she’d ask Eric later. Eric went into the backyard. The grass had re-grown, and the green house was now full of vegetables, fruits, and parsley, lots of parsley. Parsley contains a chemical that effects fluffies, but only pregnant fluffies. When a pregnant mare eats a lot of parsley, her uterus will contract causing a miscarriage, or forced birth if the pregnancy is 8 months along. It was three hours later when the baby woke up. Eric was busy in his greenhouse watering, harvesting, re-planting, using Hasbio brand fertilizer, and monitoring his filly. “Daddeh?” Eric looked down from his marigolds at the filly, “what did dah bwown fwuffie wan’?” Eric explained the situation to her, how the herd only consisted of the abandoned and the hated. “That am such gud hewd. Sound su fwiendwy.”
Eric smiled, maybe he should take her to see them, but his own mind went against that notion, or was it Cire, he could not tell anymore. Eric locked the greenhouse and went back inside to wash up. The filly was nestled inside her sling, which doubled as a bed/blanket, meanwhile her daddy was in the shower. When he got out and was dressed, he picked the filly up again and washed her off in the sink. He refilled the milk bottle and placed her in the sling, and they went to the Fluffy Mart.
Fluffy Mart was becoming more and more of a Pet-Co. Michel, the CEO of Hasbio, had decided to start another line of pet support. Cats, Dogs, Birds, Rabbits, etc. were now supported by Fluffy Mart. The market now had all these new items, but the fluffy isle was still the main one.
Emily Andrews had been working for Fluffy Mart for about three years now. At first, she only wanted to work here until she found another job, but the pay was much better than she thought it would be. She had seen Eric come in and out of the Store before, but this time he came in with a… sling? Out of the sling peaked a young filly, her white horn was curved and shiny, ‘huh I’ve never seen a curved horn before. Aw she’s yawning and stretching her…’ “WINGS?!” She said that last word out loud. Emily had never seen an alicorn type before, she thought they were a just a rumor, but now… she had to get a closer look. Fortunately, the man headed in her direction. “Hello,” he said approaching Emily, “are the outdoor fluffy supplies still in the same place?” “Yes, they are… is that an,” she pointed at the filly, “an alicorn?” “You’ve never seen one before? Wow are the breeder mares really that vicious?” “What do you mean?” “Well fluffies are programed to mistreat or kill alicorn types on sight, unless of course they are decedent of alicorns.” A conversation on fluffy psyche ensued. “So, what is the sling made of?” Eric covered the filly’s ears, “Well I found her in an alley her parents were both alicorns, and they died killing some attacking fluffies. So…. I made the sling out of her parents fluffies.” Eric thanked Emily and walked towards the correct isle. Emily watched Eric and the filly disappear down the aisle.
Eric tucked the filly into the sling so she would not see the horror. Fluffies lined the shelves like chickens; cries of ‘Mummah! Wah mummah!’ ‘Nu pwees be nyw dadded o’ mamma,’ and in some rare cases, ‘dummeh fwuffy smawy iv bettah fwuffy.’ On one side was the foals; there were three shelves, the first was basic color, the second was pretty color, and the third was rare unique colors. All of the shelves were again split into three categories. Earth, unicorn, and pegasus type, at the end of the aisle was an un-lit fluffy container, that looked like a luxury hotel. It was labeled ‘Alicorn Types,’ but was empty. At the other end was a heart and gut-wrenching sight, brown, vomit, and urine yellow fluffies, were all crammed into one cage with very little room to move, ‘Fifty Cents a Pound’ was on the cage. The cage was filled with all fluffy types, excluding alicorn, all of them crying, begging or in some sort of despair. To make matter worse there was a teenage boy at the cage watching a whole group of fluffies dancing and smiling. Finally, the teen laughed said something and left leaving the group in tears, one entered the ‘wan die’ loop.
Eric winced at this, even though they weren’t categorized as animals, he had made them. Eric swallowed and turned to face to other side of the aisle. On this side foals that needed milk were being sold. Milk-bag mares, mostly ‘re-jects,’ were in each cage their udders swelling in an un-natural state, scilent scrams and tears ran down their faces. When a foal suckled, the mare would shake its head and wiggle its stumps of legs, clearly in pain from the babies nursing. Also in the cages, were the epitome of humanity’s evil, litter-pals. These poor rejected males were de-toothed, muted, and shoved into boxes only big enough to fit them; from there they are forced to eat the poop of their fellow fluffies, and lick their asses clean until death finally had the mercy to take them.
One cage held a mare with ‘pretty’ colors she was feeding five foals, and hugging one particular foal, her best foal. In the ‘food tray of the litter pal was a sixth brown foal, malnourished and cheeping weakly, the litter pal straining to eat it. Eric locked eyes with the mare it spoke, “Hewo noice mistah. Be nyu daddeh.” Eric looked her up and down, “Oh my goodness no, you are too ugly,” the mare looked absolutely distraught at this. Eric took advantage of her shock, and pointed to the brown foal, “Now that foal is pretty, I might take him,” looking back he added with a sigh, “such a shame you don’t feed it. I might take you with it, but it is clear that you are a bad mother. Mistreating your baby like that simply on the basis of color.” Eric shook his head and walked away, the mare got up and looked after him yelling something incoherent among the cries of the other fluffies up for sale.
Emily watched Eric walk down the aisle and stop at a cage, he said something a went onwards. She walked up to the mare to discover something unusual, a mother mare letting one of her brown babies feed? Then, the cries of ‘wan die’ brought her attention to the cage of rejected foals, where the pathetic creature lay. It had tiered its legs out from dancing for the teen, the teen was a regular, loved to lead on fluffies, but never bought anything, and now the tormented fluffies were crying and the one was saying, “wan die. wan die.” Suddenly, it began speeding up and getting louder, “Wan die… Wan Die… Wan DIE. WAN Die! WAN DIE!!! WAN DIE WAN DIE WAN DIE!” The cry was taken up by every rejected fluffy in that cage. All of them screaming the same thing over and over. Emily tried to calm them but was only met with, “Pwease miff Emawy. Fwuffy wan die. KIWW FWUFFY!!!” She opened the cage door to try and comfort the creatures, but was met with a flood of fluffies jumping out and falling head downwards to the floor, not even screaming as they fell to their death. She banged the cage door shut catching five fluffies in the door and three more in the hinges. She quickly began snapping necks and gathering the dead babies in a bag.
Eric saw the event take place, and silently began crying. His tears fell and hit the filly in the sling. She looked up at him, but there was no looking down, no reassurance, she began to cry. The din of fluffy voices was soon quieted. Now on either side of the aisle were tanks. Aqua fluffies lined the walls some with babies some not, some alone, some with pregnant mares, but all of them were happy. Eric looked at them and then back at the ‘normal’ fluffies he couldn’t help himself. Luckily there was a one-person bathroom nearby. He rushed inside, it was surprisingly clean, sat on the closed toilet, and began to cry. Not a stoic and quiet cry, but a straight up mourning of his creations. All of them were… suffering in this hell-hole. The filly tried to hug him, but was met with a cold realization. Hugs don’t make everything better, but she had to try. Quietly, she hugged his waist and looked up at him, “Wai daddeh hab sawdies?” Eric stopped, wiped his eyes, and looked down at the filly. She was hugging his waist, but he still felt the familiar cold. He went to the mirror telling the filly “later,” there he was.
Cire did not like fluffies, but the way those rejected fluffies were treated, was inhumane even to him. Talking to Cire outside of dreams was a very difficult feat, but when Eric and his mind were alone looking, at each other through the mirror, they could converse freely. Cire was confused, his distaste for fluffies was being replaced with pity, ‘What is happening to me why do I feel sorry for them. This is wrong they’re not animals they’re bio-toys.’ ‘No, they’re not and deep down you know it. Just as I dream what you do, you dream what I do. You have seen what they are. Chimeras.’ ‘The fluffies aren’t goat-scorpion-lion-goat hybrids.’ Eric shook his head, ‘Wrong type of chimera. The Japanese version of the chimera is a bunch of animals fused together through magic then added to a human, so that the human would gain the power of the animals.’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘The fluffies are currently three percent human. They have the brains and the vocal cords of a child. That’s why they can chose, that’s why they can love, and it’s why I hate hurting them.’
Emily had taken care of the rejected foals, it took a while to calm the down, and headed back to the register. When she got there, she began to check out customers. Eric came to the checkout his face cleaned and the baby asleep. He bought the outdoor equipment, specifically a weather-proof auto-cleaning litter box, an outdoor fluffy shelter, and some outdoor toys. He also bought dry-kibble, five cans of wet-kibble, a collar, and a bright bronze colored tag. He went over to the tag kiosk, which was right next to, ‘the machine.’ While he waited for the tag to be done, he looked the machine over. Presently, a woman came with two adult fluffies one a pegasus and one a unicorn. Both were happily talking in their boxes, but the happy talking turned to terror and crying, as soon as they saw where they were headed. The fluffies inside the store could hear the machine operate, and saw that fluffies that came back from that area were crying covered in boo-boo juice from missing legs, wings, horns, and/or special lumps.
The unicorn was picked up, instantly she began begging and crying for mercy from the woman. She put the struggling mare into the slot, and pressed the button. The machine whirred to life. The chatter of the fluffies coming from the fluffy aisle stopped. There came a loud clunk, the smell of burning flesh, and the unicorn stopped screaming, he had fainted from the pain. The woman lifted up the unicorn, her back legs now gone. The woman placed the female into the same carrier as the male, and left. Eric shook his head and took the tag. He left the horrors that Fluffy-Mart had become.
They got home. Eric placed the still sleeping filly in her nest, and sat down. Sunday was ending soon, and Sunday is spaghetti day. The little filly silently tossed and turned in her nest. The image of Fluffy Mart’s cages burning in her mind. The rejected fluffies all crying and killing themselves. She was on the floor looking up at the cage door. It opened and all the fluffies began jumping out dashing themselves on the tile floor, boo-boo juice beginning to cover the floor and rise. The filly begged the fluffies to stop, but they kept jumping not even crying, just smiling as they fell to their death. The blood on the floor began rising into a puddle, turning quickly into a pool. The filly began swimming desperately to keep her head above the blood pool. Suddenly, the pool began swirling into a whirlpool dragging her into the center and then down. The whirlpool pulled her under and down. Suddenly, she landed and looked around. She was on the machine. Buzz saws came close to her wings, claws grabbed her legs, her horn was gripped by a rotating sander. A loud whirr… and she awoke screaming.
Eric was pouring the pot of pasta into the colander when the filly’s scream broke the otherwise scilent house. He quickly put the pot down and raced to a balling fluffy. “Daddeh pwease hewp weggies nu wowk. Meanie machine took pointy an’ wingies.” Eric smiled, sighed, and shook hie head. “Listen darling its time I told you about dreams and nightmares.” “Fwuffy know about dweams. What am nightmawes?” “Nightmares are dreams that are filled with terrifying things. For instance, you thought you lost your legs, wings, and horns, but look,” Eric stroked her legs, wiggled her wings, and then tapped her horn, “It was not real.” The filly looked at her legs, craned her head to see her wings, and crossed her eyes to see her horn. She hugged Eric’s arm and began to coo softly. Eric picked her up and brough her to the table; setting her next to her bowel he put a serving of pasta on her plate. She began slurping up the noodles, Eric served himself and began eating.
Finally, dinner was over and Eric had a surprise for the little one. he placed a collar around her neck and said, “Well my child I have finally found a name for you,” she stared in anticipation, “I name you Streak.” She exploded with joy jumping off the table to hug Eric.
One hour later it was bed time. Streak curled up in her nest, “Gud dawk time daddeh.” Eric smiled as he tucked her in and sat down. But Eric was not alone in smiling at Streak.

Chapter 3: Life Finally Goes Well, for Streak, Eric, and Cire that is.
Life is finally going well. Streak is the first fluffy to be happy and not have something bad happen to her. Eric finally had a life with happiness. Happiness that was magnified into hilarity when Noah invited Eric over to his apartment. Noah’s nephew, Michel, was there and he was your typical angsty teen, and Streak was pretty nervous meeting the nephew. Noah, she was fine with she had met him several times, but the nephew was more familiar than Eric first thought. Eric and Noah were in a deep conversation, when the nephew went upstairs to, “get away from the old-guys.” “So, you have any problems with your nephew?” “No, my sister did sort of pamper him until he was five, but nothing else. Why?” “I think I saw him at Fluffy Mart yesterday.” “What? Why would he be there?”
Eric shrugged and told Noah about the teen at Fluffy Mart that had caused the the ‘wan die’ loop. Then Eric reached down to pet Streak and noticed she was gone, “Where’s Streak?” There came a shriek and the sound of hooves running down the hall. Streak ran around the corner, “Stupid shit-rat stay out of my room!” The door to Michel’s room slammed, Eric scooped up Streak, “What happened Streak.” Streak was in tears and was unable to talk. Eric wrapped her in a hug and continued talking with Noah. After five minutes Streak finally was able to talk. “So, Streak what happened?” “Stweak don’ know. Jus’ walk in an’ meanie hooman wa’ wachin’ his tawike box. Michaw wa’ jus watchen odah’ hoomans haben spwciw huggies. Wai’ Michaw yew at Stweak.” Silence followed, silence that was broken by Noah. “Wait what’s special hugies?” Noah turned to Eric, who had the ‘whelp-face’ in full form. “Take five seconds Noah, what would children classify walking in on their parents… just take five seconds.”
Second one, consideration. Second two, screwing up face in thought. Second three, more consideration. Second four, beginning to realize. Second five, full realization that his nephew was watching pornography, while he had a friend over too. “Do you want me to leave?” Noah nodded at Eric’s question, said good-bye to both of them, saw them out the door, and turned to face Michel’s door.
Eric walked outside and lasted ten seconds before laughing so hard he had to stop to breath. Streak was thoroughly confused, but Eric told her that when she was one four months old, sixteen in fluffy age, he would explain. Streak pouted another month, unfair, but that was what daddy had said, so she abided. Eric had just closed the passenger side door after securing Streak, when he heard the bang of a door being broken in, and the scream of a teenager that had just been walked in on mid… well you know. Eric sighed, “Glad I never did that,” he walked to his door and drove off, patting Streak on the head, “You did good Streak you did… oh.” Streak had fallen asleep her head resting on the fluffy-seatbelt. Eric smiled, really smiled, it had been a while since he had done that, not since… Ruth. The memory of generation 2’s mother filled his mind. When walking up the front path, Eric stopped and walked over to a cluster of tulips each with a rock beside it with a name. He went up to the grave of the last fluffy he had really cared about before Streak. It was a rose-bush, all pink roses just like she had been.
Then the other memories filled his head. The smarty that had killed the original six fluffies and then raped their babies to death, how Eric had hugged Ruth close after thinking her dead, and he also remembered the smarty that had ordered his starving herd to eat the vegetable friends. Eric stopped before his door. A single stalwart cotton plant stood right on the window’s outer sill. Eric smiled again and went inside. Gently he placed Streak in her nest, next to which he moved her litter-box, Noah was a good cook and she had eaten a lot. He sighed undressed got into a new pair of boxer-briefs, his underwear and pajama of choice, and went to bed. Yes, Eric’s life was full, he was content.
Cire on the other hand was not. He awoke with a start, the memories of torturing the two smarties of the past making him blood-thirsty. Down to the now sound-proofed basement he went, and there waiting, was his latest victim. A smarty mare that had stomped several babies for being prettier than her babies. Cire grinned. She had been mentally broken several times, only to be reset by a small zap to the brain, and tortured all over again. However, resetting fluffies in this way had consequences and each time the mare would become less and less responsive. Now it was time to inflict actual pain, starting with her unborn babies, all of which would be brown, Cire had used some rather… unethical methods, and eventually wanted to give the babies to the reject herd.
Cire picked up the mare and injected a whole cup of concentrated parsley juice down her throat. The chemical in the juice activated the muscles in the mare’s uterus to contract, causing her to go into labor three days early. The mare shrieked as the babies were being forced out of her. Her cervix was not opening, that was the problem, quite easy to remedy. From a drawer came a horrifying looking set of reverse tongs. Cire shoved them into her cervix and squeezed. The mare began shrieking in terror and pain. Once her cervix was sufficiently destroyed, a baby began to crown, Cire pulled the tongs out, pulling out the first baby as well. As predicted the baby was a brown, the undissolved umbilical cord attaching the baby to the mare, the fluffy’s umbilical dissolves four hours before the first contractions, and comes out with the amniotic fluids when the mare’s water breaks.
Another baby soon followed the mare contractions, coming much too fast. Cire smiled widely at the suffering mare and decided to make things worse for her, “For every runt or stillborn baby you make, I will hurt you.” As he said this, he gently rubbed the mare’s swollen teats and then smacked them; obviously, this caused her to scream in pain, a scream that lasted through the next contraction. Finally, after the birth of three beautiful perfect brown foals, there came a baby in breach position, legs first. The baby partially came out with the next contraction, but its head remained inside the canal. The next contraction crushed the foal’s head. “YOU BITCH! YOU KILLED YOUR BABY YOU BITCH!” Cire ripped the baby out, the umbilical cord snapping, and threw it into the mare’s face. The mare began crying as the last baby slid out stillborn from the mother’s trauma. Cire grinned and threw this baby into the mare’s face as well, “AH-HAHAHA! Your baby hated you so much it decided to die rather than live with you.” The mare began crying and did not stop until her after-birth came and reminded her that she had babies to take care of.
Throughout the entire ordeal of cleaning, the mare desperately looked for a baby that was not a ‘poopie’ baby, but to her disappointment, all four of the surviving babies were brown, cheeping, and hungry. Cire waited, the mare did not feed them, he slammed his fist down next to the mare, “Feed them, you bitch.” The mare puffed up her cheeks and screamed, “NU! ONWY PWETTY BABBEHS GET MIWKIES; POOPIE BABBEHS ONWY GET SOWWY HOOVSIES!” The babies began crying in fear and hunger. Cire grinned he had hopped she would do this, “Very well I guess you need to be taught a lesson.” Cire grabbed the stillborn baby and forced it into her mouth, making her eat it; then he stuffed the other one into her mouth as well. Then he held her still as the first two babies drank, and then the other two drank.
As soon as the mare was freed, she tried to kill her babies, “Meenie babbehs nu take miwkies fwom mummah. ‘ou bad babbehs, an’ bad babbehs get foweba sweepies.” She raised her hoof and was bringing it down on the closets baby, but Cire grabbed her leg and twisted. Her leg popped out of its socket, “SCREEEE!” Her scream lasted a whole minute, but finally subsided into broken sobs and speech, “sniff-sniff Why gib fwuffy owwies? sob Am gud fwuffie. Fwuffie nu desewbes sob wowstes’ huwties. Fwuffy nee’ gud pwetty sniff sob babbehs. Pwease daddeh sob sniff gib stoopi’ poopie babbehs huu fobebah sweepies. An’ gib fwuffy gud pwetty babbehs.” Cire stood there a disgusted look on his face. Suddenly, he shook his head violently in one direction, Eric woke up at the cries of the babies. Their body gasped as both minds looked at the scene. Eric ground his teeth at the mare, a coldness that not even Cire had felt from himself began to fill the air.
Eric picked up the babies and cuddled them sending them to sleep, and then he turned to the mare. “Listen Cire do exactly as I tell you and she will suffer for as long as possible.” Cire grinned this was their first co-lab. “Every time you scream, I will hit you.” First, they, or he, shaved off all the mare’s fluff, careful to be as rough as possible, needless to say her leg caused her much pain. The mare screamed three times, Cire slapped her nose, then both her tender udders, and finally he grabbed a fly swatter and smacked her freshly shaved ass, leaving a red mark. The mare screamed at the swatter, so she got hit again, and again, and again, and again. Finally, after countless swats the mare lost her voice. Her rear dripping blood, the mare just silently cried. Cire then comforted the four foals that were crying over their mother’s screams.
“Now are you ready to feed your babies, take care of them like normal babies, and maybe if your good enough give them love and milk, maybe they will become pretty babies.” The mare perked up at this final remark, “But remember! Treat them bad, have a favorite, or do anything that is against my rules, and your babies will be brown forever.” The mare nodded. “Now hear the rules bitch. One, each baby gets the same amount of milk. Two, you will treat all of them with love and give them hugs whenever they ask. Three, if they make any bad poopies, you will lick them clean and eat the bad poopies. Four, when they are old enough you will teach them about the litterbox. Finally, if any of you baby boys want special huggies,” he leaned close to the mare’s face, “you will lick their no-no sticks until they have ‘gud feews.’ Got it?” The mare nodded, but continued crying. Cire smiled she would be fun to torment.
While Streak was loved by Eric, Cire killed this Bitch’s heart slowly.
Chapter 4: A Day in the Life of Cire
Three days after mare had given birth, Cire bought a brown teen-age stallion, that had only just begun puberty, from the Fluffy Mart. Cire took the babies from the sleeping mare and replaced them with the teenager. “Oh, my something wonderful happened.” The babies were in a sound-proof carrier, “Your babies all merged into one beautiful stallion.” The mare had woken up from the sudden shift in babies, and began sniffing her new baby all over. Cire smiled, “I’ll leave you two together,” he took the carrier with him and went to the greenhouse. Once there, he harvested some carrots and other vegetables, and went to the park. After finding the reject herd, Cire left the babies in a fluff plie and dumped the vegetables. When he got back to the basement, he found what he was hoping to find.
The teen-age stallion had not been told the rules, but had been told that this fluffy was his mother, and his young body had been injected with extra testosterone to increase his agressiveness. The mother had to much milk and had been squirming uncomfortably, so she decided, “Pwees babbeh dwink mamahs miwkies.” She had flopped on her side, and got into the nursing position, but the teen fluffy did not want to drink milk, he wasn’t a baby. But he had not been fed since that morning, and every second he stared at the plump full breasts waiting to be drained, the more he wanted to suck them dry. The fluffy began suckling, causing the mare to yelp, “pwees babbeh. ‘Ou gibben wowstest huwties to mommah’s miwkie pwaces.” The teen slowed and stopped chewing on the nipple, but he was worried, ‘what if daddeh sees fwuffy dwinkin’ miwkies wike wittwe babbeh?’ Cire answered this for him, “aw. you’re helping your momma with her extra milk.” The stallion ripped away from the mare’s breast, “Nuuu, no’ am babbeh. Am big fwuffy,” he kicked the mare’s udders, “Nu nee’ miwkies. Fwuffy big fwuffy!”
The mare began crying, “Pwease bebbeh hewp mammah, miwki pwaces hab huwties. Miwkies pwaces to fuw. Pwease dwink miwkies babbeh.” Cire smiled, perfect. He grabbed the mare and put her in a milk-bag stand, that had holes for her legs, after all he was not going to pillow her… yet. He turned to the teen fluffy, “If you want to be a good fluffy, you would help your mamma,” he shook his head, “Such a shame, I might have given you two spaghetti if you were to help her.” The mere mention of spaghetti sent the fluffy into excitement, he rushed over to the mare and began suckling, ignoring her cries of “Scree! Huwties! Pwease babbeh swow down.”
‘Babbeh’ ignored the mare and suckled one teat dry, it became loose and wrinkled like an empty sack. The young colt then began on the second one. Finally, both of the mare’s teats were empty and hanging downward. She quietly cried fully-expecting the sorry-swatter to smack her for screaming, but instead Cire stroked her mane and said, “When I come down tomarrow… next bright time, if your teats are empty, you two will get sketties instead of kibble.” He took the mare out of the milk-bag holder and placed down two bowels of kibble for them.
Next morning, when Eric got home from work with Streak, they were very cheerful. Eric had finally finished the outdoor safe-space and had re-enforced the back fence. Solid wood now lined the fence, instead of the classic vertical bars. He had also used Hog Wire along the inside of the fence. Unfortunately, reinforcing the gate with the wire, was an impossibility. The yard was beautiful, there was the auto filling waterer and a food bowl, a covered nest, a litterbox right next to Eric’s composter, shallow pool that used to be a bird-bath, and some toys: ball, ropes, etc. Streak frolicked in this new play-place, and even splashed around in the pool. She did not drink from it, that’s disgusting. Eric called her over and showed her a small fluffy-door, it was actually re-purposed cat door, that was in the backdoor. It was there for her to use when it got to hot outside.
That night Eric was working at his computer ordering estrogen and testosterone supplements, when Cire began to wake-up. Eric made certain that Streak was in her nest and that the bedroom door was closed. It began.
Cire made pasta for the fluffies in the basement. Certain that the stallion would be nursing the mare’s teats constantly. When he opened the door, he heard the clatter of hooves and a small ‘eep.’ The stallion was suckling the teats making certain they were absolutely empty. Cire came up to the mare and examined the teats, seemingly empty. He squeezed one, nothing came out. However, when Cire squeezed the other one, a flow white of milk landed on the table. It lay there a small puddle of fluid. Cire smiled and turned to the fluffies, “Sorry little guy, but it looks like you did not drink all the milk, Cire brought out the two bowels of spaghetti from behind him and put all the spaghetti in one bowl. “It’s not your fault that your baby did not drink all the milk,” he dropped the big bowl of spaghetti in front of the mare, “Next time maybe you will get sketties too,” he said looking at the crying colt his stomach bulged. “Anyway,” he rolled the colt over and patted his stomach, “you are very full.”
The colt just cried his extended stomach obviously hurting him, “You better drink that milk buddy,” the colt rolled back over and crawled to the drop of milk licking it up. A plump teat smacked him in the head as he lifted his head. As the mare ate the spaghetti, her teats swelled. Cire watched smiling at the quick digestive system that was the, “mamma make milk instinct.” The colt began to full on cry, and began begging, “Pwease mummah stahp eatin’. Miwkies pwaces am gettin’ fuww again.” The mare moved away from the pasta and flipped over to look at her teats, they were defiantly full again. She coldly smiled, “Babbeh bettah stawt dwinkin’ miwkies again ow get nu sketties nex’ bwite time. heh heh
Cire caught the laugh at the end, and checked her kibble bowel, not only was it empty, but the colt’s bowel was empty too. “Have you eaten your kibble colt?” Between sobs the colt shook his head, “Mummah nummed aww dah kibbwe to make miwkies fo’ fwuffy.” Cire grabbed the bowl of pasta away from the mare, “So you ate more than your share of kibble so you could make milk huh?” She nodded, but knew the game was up, Cire dropped the rest of the pasta into the colt’s bowel. He dropped the now fat mare into the milk-bag holder. “You ate all the kibble, so that your baby would drink all the milk and not be able to eat. Am I correct?”
The mare lowered her head, and nodded; she had purposely done this so her baby would not get to eat sketties. Cire looked down at her in disgust, and pulled her empty food bowl around behind her, and placed it under both of her teats. He began milking the mare like a cow causing her to begin screaming in pain. But finally, it was over. He put the milk in front of her, “make that last,” and left. The next night Cire did the same, but there was only about a tablespoon of milk in her teats. Cire dumped some dry kibble into the bowl. Next was her feces and urine situation, her ass was coved in the stuff, and some had managed to ‘accidently’ fall into the bowel of milk and kibble. The bottom of the milk bag holder was filled with dry urine her fluff, which was about one inch long now, was disgusting, “You need a bath.”
The word bath caused the mare to panic, but she also wanted to ‘smeww pwetty.’ The bath was cold and Cire used a dish brush causing the mare much pain and several scars. He also made certain to get soap in the mare’s eyes, and then spanked her when she squealed at the ‘burne huwties in see pwaces.’
Finally, the after one week, thanks to the added testosterone supplements, the colt was getting super horny, his ‘no-no stick’ was hard and throbbing painfully, his testicles big as tennis balls, bursting with baby juice. Cire smiled at the mare, she remembered the final rule, “If any of you baby boys want special huggies, you will lick their no-no sticks until they have ‘gud feews.’ Got it?” The mare cried and began to beg, “Pwease daddeh. Fwuffie mummah nu wan wick babbeh’s no-no stick.” The colt’s head snapped up from the food dish and whipped around to face his mother. His dick swollen with its veins bulging with each beat of the colt’s heart. The baby ran up to his mother, the testosterone cancelling out any common sense, and he sat on his behind, his throbbing… you know… standing straight up in the air, waiting. The mare gulped and gave one last desperate look at Cire.
Cire smiled and said, “If you break the rule… you will be punished. I think your leg will be… twisted.” The mare began crying, and began ‘helping’ her baby. Cire went to go check on Streak, but really only left because, watching a mare, that thinks that this colt is her son, and she is practically giving him a B.J, so… nasty.
The mare cried throughout the whole ordeal, and finally, when the colt cried out the final, ‘gud feews,’ she ran to the water dish and washed out her mouth and washed off her face. Cire came back and smiled at the mare emotionally broken mare, and the colt was asleep. Cire once again grabbed some vegetables, and left the colt with the reject herd. He would wake up surrounded by friends. The mare would now suffer for her crime, what was her crime? Well…
When Cire found the mare, she had three babies two brown ones and one purple and green, guess which was the ‘bestest’ baby. Like the mother, the best baby was abusing its smaller siblings, forcing them to lick it clean every time it defecated. This was forgivable behavior, but what happened next was not. Clearly, the mare had run away from her owner to have babies. As she knew all about litterboxes and the good vs. bad poopies. Cire at first had not done or said anything, after all he was the observer. The mare seeing that he was doing nothing, told her best baby to start dancing. The foal sat down and started wiggling its front legs while turning from side to side. The other two foals, tired, weak, cold, and miserable started dancing as well. On stood on its back hooves and waddled back and forth while wiggling its legs, the other began to hop from left legs to right legs while shaking its tale and smiling at Eric.
The mare watched them dancing, dancing more pretty that her best baby. Eric was about to reach down and pick them up when the mare ran over, screeched, “Dummeh babbehs. ‘Ou danci am ba’ dancie!” and brought her full force down on both at the same time. Their soft bones, exceptionally weak from lack of milk, splintered from the force. All the babies could do was to give a slight gasp, and die. The mare then turned around and shat on their bodies. “Sowwy fo’ poopies babbehs ba’ danci. Gib mummah fwuffy an’ bestes’ babbeh nu’ housies, an’ toysies, an’ sketties, an’ fwuffie tee-bee nao?” Eric stood there dumb-founded and went scilent, Cire sent Eric to sleep as he awoke. “BITCH!” The mare took a step back, surprised. Her baby ran to her only to be picked up by Cire, “Your so-called best baby just wiggled around while your other babies actually danced. How dare you kill them and still expect me to have any desire to keep you… well I’ll keep you, but you’ll have to do something first.” The mare was shocked into silence, but nodded, “If you want to have a home, you will have to eat your baby.”
The mare stared at Cire in disbelief, “Pwease nice mistah. Mummah nu wan’ to num bestes’ babbeh. Pwease mummah wiww do anythin’ ewse eben… eben… gib nice mistah gud feews.” Cire nearly vomited at the very idea of her suggestion, while it is true that some people do this, it was disgusting beyond all… all… well everything. “I was willing to find another route, but, because you seem to be so much of a whore, you must now eat your baby or die. First eat his legs, then his no-no stick, then his special lumps, then bite off his lower body, then finish eating him. If you don’t, I will give him pain beyond what you will give him, so either way he dies. But if you kill him, it we be a mercy.” The mare broke down crying and initially tried to dissuade Cire, but in the end, she ate her baby exactly as Cire described. After that, the mare entered the ‘wan die’ loop, but Cire reset her; she forgot about her stupid baby and her good babies. This was the crime of the mare, and unforgivable event, but back to the present.
By forcing her to ‘help’ her ‘baby,’ he had emotionally broken her, now it was time to physically break her, then he would undo the resets, and force her to relive all the pain and suffering, especially the memory of eating her best baby. She was crying, but not screaming ‘wan die,’ which is good, if a fluffy that wants to die is abused they will offer nothing but tears and whisper, “wan die.” Cire grinned at the mare, and pointed to a pile of steaming feces, her ‘scaredy poopies’ from the colt’s ‘surprise.’ “Eat it,” the mare stared at Cire as if he would say anything else. Cire nodded towards the pile. The mare began eating and finally finished, “Good job dear, but you must be punished for making the bad poopies in the first place.”
The mare’s face fell into a look of despair, and she ran to the opposite side of the basement from Cire. Cire walked towards her, “Hu hu… daddeh. Fwuffy nummed dah bad poopies. Why gib mowe huwties tu fwuffy. Pwease daddeh, fwuffy pwomise not to make anymowe bad poopies, nu nee’ toysies, o’ sketties, o’ anythin’ jus’ som’ nummies an’ wittwe huggies an’ wub.” Cire just grinned and got closer and closer, the closer he got the more panicked she got. She began making offers even begged to be shaved and hit, and then she made a fatal mistake, “Pwees daddeh fwuffy wiww eben be daddeh’s effie toy, jus don’ huwt fwuffy pweese.” “How dare you say that to me,” Cire grabbed her and squeezed her abdomen. She had no choice but to make bad poopies, the pile fell on the floor, luckily Cire had been feeding her properly, so no diarrhea. He gave her a ‘really’ face, smiled in a sickly-sweet manner, and dropped her into the pile of filth. “REE! Fwuffy nu smew pwety. Wai huwt fwuffy? Am gud fwuffy. Don’ deseve huwties.” Cire flicked her on the nose, “Yes you do you bitch, you gave your baby bad special huggies you fucking pedophile;” he briefly thought of undoing the resets, but decided against it.
The now confused mare asked, “Buh daddeh. Fwuffy wa’ jus’ fowwowin’ daddeh’s wastes’ wuwe. Why huwt fwuffy if fwuffy onwy fowwowed daddeh’s wuwes?” “You should have waited for him to become a big strong stallion you pedo-fluffy.” “Buh daddeh towd fwuffy to hewp fwuffy’s babbeh. If mummah fwuffy wa nu suppose to hewp babbeh, an’ suppose to wait fo’ babbeh to become stawwion. Den why daddeh teww mummah to hewp babbeh?” Cire leaned in, “I changed my mind,” he leaned in too far. The mare, which had sat on her behind, punched Cire in the nose, well she tried to. In truth she just bopped him, and knocked herself over, but Cire would not let this opportunity just slip by. He grabbed an old razor and shaved her, being none too careful around her more sensitive areas, anus, vagina, and teats. Throughout the entire ordeal the mare screamed, sobbed, and begged, but Cire just ginned and began swatting her, whipping her, and a number of other things. She was breaking down. She didn’t understand. She was put on a metal tray; her body heat began to dissipate.
He pillowed her, first ripping off the hooves then breaking off the lower leg, then twisting off the rest of the leg. The mare flailed her stumps hopping that Cire would give her legs back; however, he just grinned and held a cauterizer to each stump. He gave a small chuckle at her screeches of pain, and left her in the darkness, he would need a stallion to continue her suffering. Cire finished that night by showering and going to bed letting the body of Eric and Cire sleep.

Chapter 5: Streak’s Secret
While Cire was busy torturing the mare, Eric was having ‘fun’ at work, it was actually demand for more fluffy variants. Hasbio was raking in a lot of money from the aqua-fluffies sales, and now they wanted to do another unique type, or resurrect and perfect one. Suggestions were thrown at Eric and Victoria, Jellenheimers, but fix their lungs, micro-sized fluffies, bowl fluffies, fire-proof fluffies, fluffies designed specifically for abusers. Eric stopped at that last suggestion and stared the suggester down. With a scilent terror the man stood paralyzed by Eric’s eyes, “That will never happen.” Victoria shivered, somehow the voice form Eric was… darker? She shook her head, ‘it must be me.’
Eric walked along listening to all the ideas thrown at him, but pretended to ignore them all. If people really had ideas that they truly believed in, they would come to him in his office. Eric sat down and waited, no one came. But then, Victoria entered his office with a leaf green file in hand. She dropped it on his desk and turned to leave, but stopped, “Eric. What happened? Why did you cancel this project? Whatever did happen, it’s not in the file, so what happened.” Eric opened the file and began writing. Five minutes later, he handed Victoria the file, and she immediately began to read. Her face went from neutral to success, and then went to a mix of horror and disgust, but then she read the part about Eric saving several of the babies and how they grew into bulbs.
She looked up at Eric, eyes now full of understanding, “Looking at them caused you pain.” She kept reading about that day. Finally, she looked up, “Are you ready to bring them back?” Eric nodded, “You said you figured out how to make the lettuce friends.” “Yes, but I’ll need a potato friend female and a carrot friend male.” Eric went back to his house; Streak was outside and playing. Eric smiled and went down to the basement and over to the filing cabinets. He pulled out the carrot bulbs and looked for one with and uneven number of leaves, then he looked for a potato friend with and even number of leaves. He went out to check on Streak who was happy to see him, but sad to see him leave again. Eric returned to Hasbio and with Victoria’s assistance, they began the process of creating lettuce friends. Once the vegetable friends were planted, Eric went home and found Streak inside the house sleeping in her nest.
He smiled at this; she was adorable. Then a thought came to him, he got a measuring tape and began seeing how big she was. She was about half the size she was supposed to be, Eric raced to her food dish and checked the growth supplements. They were there, but she was not getting bigger, this was a problem if she wanted to have babies. He added testosterone to her bowl, it would help with her size, and the estrogen was certainly already helping her. Hopefully the combined hormonal supplements would help. Eric considered and pulled up an ounce of super-fluffy-nutrition for emaciated, baby, or toothless fluffies. Eric carefully injected the substance into her blood stream, it was either that or she would have to drink it, both ways are safe.
Streak woke up at the moment of Eric pulling the needle out, but she did not fuss. She knew she daddy would not hurt her without reason. Streak followed Eric back to the kitchen where she ate some of the hormone lased kibble. Once that was done, she drank water, used the litterbox, and walked up her spiraling fluffy ramp to get onto a small table with fenced edges to prevent accidents, but it was only a two-foot drop, so not to dangerous. She stretched all the muscles in her body and hit a switch, a fan turned on and began blowing on her. She spread her wings flexing the muscles and began flapping against the fan.
Eric’s phone buzzed, an alert that the fan was on, and looked over to the table her wings were getting bigger, but at a rate faster that her body. It hit him like a bag of bricks, she was one of the rare gliding pegasus/alicorn fluffies. Her wings would develop until they covered her sides and then would grow alongside her, that was why she was so small. Both of her parents must have had those rare recessive traits. Eric smiled had she been found by another person; they would have sold her for about fifty-grand without blinking. He walked over to his little Streak, who was still flapping hard against the fan’s wind, she had it on the highest setting, and was actually moving forward against the wind. She reached the edge flapping with and incredible force all the way, Eric remotely shut off the fan, she ran off the edge. With a squeal of fear, she flapped harder than ever, and her decent slowed. She spread her wings and glided down. Since the fall was only two feet, she only glided a few inches, but it was enough to clear the cushion pile and land right in front of Eric.
“Incredible,” his voice came out as a whisper. He had originally designed the pegasus type to do this, but it had failed and left them with tiny wings. Alicorns also were intended to have the same wing size, but the same failure occurred. Mabey somehow the genetic code for blue-jay wings over-wrote the genetic code for goose wings, but the goose wings still remained and eventually developed into rare recessive genes. Eric picked up Streak who was shaking from the fall, and examined the wings. He began cuddling the now shivering Streak. “Hey girl, you did a great job. I’m so proud of you, being able to do that. You were incredible.” Streak hugged Eric tightly and gently drifted off to sleep. Eric injected her with a sleeping draft and another dose of super-nutrients. He opened the fluffy-connect app and connected with her implant. Even though alicorns are resistant to their effects, the implant still existed and allowed Eric to see her nutrient, oxygen, and hormonal-level, their genetic code, and even show what their offspring could be.
Eric set up an extended sleep allowing her body to use the nutrients in her blood to grow at a rate three-times the normal growth rate. He placed her in her nest, and set his phone to alert him should something go wrong, say her body beginning to run low on fluid or nutrients. Eric went to sleep, oblivious to Cire going down to the basement and continuing to physically abuse the mare.
For all the time that Eric had worked at Hasbio, he had never had this many people coming to him all with ideas for new fluffy types, each being told the same thing, “Write it down, put you name on it, draw it if you can, and put it in this pile.” By the end of the day he had two-hundred and thirty-eight files. But only ten unique ones, four of which were straight up ridiculous, three that were down right impossible leaving him with three new and unique types. First were bowl fluffies, fluffies that had indented stomachs creating a bowel shape, with an aqua-fluffy tail to propel them across water. Second, was micro-fluffies; these miniscule creatures would be a third of the size of a normal fluffy and live in terrariums similar to ant-farms. Finally, was the Jellenheimers fluffies, an employee in the genetics lab had found a way to create jelly-roll fluffies with nasal passages but without a nose, that project was green lighted and the other two stored in Eric’s desk for later.
Victoria entered the office to see Eric bending over a sleeping Streak, she had been sleeping all day. Eric stood up and unscrewed a needle head and placed it the bin for sterilization and re-use. “Odd usually Streak is awake.” Eric spun to see Victoria entering with a file on vegetable friends, he had recently given Victoria the rest of the bulbs for her use. “I have her on an accelerated growth plan, which requires her to be asleep. But I am monitoring her closely,” he opened the app and showed her Streak’s levels. “I see and you think this will help her?” “Oh, it will. She had the genetics for actual wings, and that’s what is actually stunting her growth.” Victoria’s mouth fell open, Eric had a one in one thousand fluffy right here, never mind her colors or alicorn status. For a fluffy to have working wings… that was rarer than an alicorn being born.
“Really… Oh my… how… well lucky. I can’t really believe it. Oh my… I just can’t.” “Well believe it, her wings are almost as big as her.” It was true Streaks wings were now almost covering her entire flanks, instead of the little buzzing useless wings. “They now cover 80% of her flanks, whereas this morning, this mourning they only covered 57% of her flanks. And get this,” Eric pulled up his phone again, “I made some changes to her implant and look.” He hit an icon in the app and dark screen appeared. After a few seconds the screen became covered in white moving lines and settled into place. “It’s her dreams.” Victoria watched the screen. It was Eric’s backyard. Streak was looking at the gate, it opened. Through it billowed a cloud, “Remember, this is only black and white. Black objects get outlined in white, and vise-vera for white objects.”
Out of the cloud stepped… Eric? It was Eric’s body but the way he walked and moved was different. The creature stooped grabbed Streak and began squeezing her. I.R.L. Streak began to turn over. Eric went around to the desk and pulled out a syringe. He raced over to Streak. Meanwhile Victoria watched as dream Eric began ripping off Streaks appendages and was saying something, well his mouth was moving. Eric injected Streak with a wake-up fluid. His phone began beeping, and Victoria looked alarmed, “Her heart rate is one-fifty-three,” 153 beats per second very dangerous. The accelerated heart rate helped the fluid take hold and Streak woke up, screaming.
Michel had seen the Vegetable fluffies and was walking to Eric’s office, when the all too familiar sound of a screaming fluffy broke through office din. Eyes turned to Eric’s door as the scream subsided. Victoria came out, “Just a fluffy having a nightmare people go back to work,” she saw Michel, “Ah Michel. What brings you here?” “I just wanted to ask about these new vegetable friends, well that and a fluffy’s scream.” Victoria took him out of the office, “Oh well then I would actually know the most about the,” she looked over at Eric who was now clutching a terrified Streak, “and anyway I think we should let Eric deal with this.” Michel looked over at Eric who was now standing and bouncing a crying Streak. Eric looked at Michel and gave the ‘well go on’ face.
Victoria took Michel the lab where the fluffies were just beginning to bloom, and started to explain about their purpose, and how they worked; meanwhile, Eric softly re-balanced Streak’s mind. “Streak what did you dream about? Can you… will you tell me?” “O’ daddeh ih’ wa’ howwibwe. Fwuffy had nu pwetty dweam. Daddeh wa’… wa’…” she paused then quickly said, “it nu was daddeh. It wooked wike daddeh buh it nu wa’ daddeh. It wa’ munsta. Gabe fwuffy wowstes’ huwties to fwuffy. Took pwetty wingies, an’ pointy hown, an’ weggies.” Eric looked at her and then at his office mirror.
Cire stared back and shook his head. Eric death stared Cire, and finally, Cire nodded slowly. There were fluffies in the basement, and Streak had seen them. The end of the day came, and Eric took Streak home, re-inducing the accelerated growth, and set up a constant monitoring. Once she was off to sleep, Eric almost flew down those stairs and opened the ‘X’ filing cabinet. He punched the button and went through the secret door.
The mare inside screamed. When her tormenter entered, he would enter slowly pains-takingly as if he loved making her wait for the pain that was coming. This time, he entered quickly racing into the room making her scream. He saw her folder and started reading; she tried to turn to face him, but her legless body was not helping. Eric looked up after finishing, “Are you pregnant… Bitch?” “Nu munstah daddeh Bi’h nu hav’ tummeh babbehs.” Eric looked down again at the file, and saw next to the stallion’s name, ‘sterile.’ Interesting, Eric looked at the mare and read what she had done to deserve this. Eric’s eyes narrowed to slits and he met the mare’s eyes. “I would kill you, but I think I’ll leave you to Cire.”
Eric went upstairs and saw Streak’s wings finish covering the entirety of her flanks. He stopped the sleep plan, and placed her in the litter-box. Streak woke up, saw she was in the litter box, and immediately voided her bowels. The clean cycle began and Streak yawned walked to her nest and went to sleep again. Eric and Cire walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and began talking. (Note every period/question-mark is a transition.) “She saw you. I didn’t know that. How am I supposed to explain this to her? I don’t know… tell her that the mare is a monster.” That idea made Eric stop. “That might actually work… good idea.” Eric thought it out and decided to wait for Streak to ask. This being decided, he went to bed.

Chapter 6: Hasbio Life for the Humans
Noah had known Eric since the tail-end of middle-school and all the way through high-school. He remembered when the news blared about an attack by PETA. At first, no-one believed it, but then they all saw the smoke. The original Hasbio location was actually only three miles away from that old school. Every now and then a car would speed by. Then some police cars raced by. They were juniors at that time, Eric was looking for an advanced biology research subject. Noah was studying for his calculous 1 final, when it happened. Finally, the news reached the entirety of America.
In the following two weeks, Eric had gathered some of the abandoned Proto-Fluffs, and studied them. Eric hadn’t told Noah about this, and once high-school had ended, they had lost touch. Then they found each other in the college, only to once again, lose touch. Now they were in almost constant contact. Every day on his way home from Hasbio, Eric would stop by the bar and talk with Noah, and then Noah told Eric about the fluffy-mark in the alley, which led to Eric’s discovery of Streak. Now their friendship was in full swing, they even had a laugh about the time Streak caught Michel watching… adult movies. Eric had even made jokes about how Noah’s nephew and Eric’s boss had the same name.
But now, something was wrong. Eric had changed, but Noah couldn’t exactly place what had changed. Sometimes Eric acted exactly like normal, and other times he would act like a completely different person. But every time he was acting different, he would turn away from Noah shiver, and then turn back. One time, Noah thought the air had suddenly gotten warmer, but he brushed that thought aside. Recently, Eric had been acting even weirder, sometimes even referring to himself as “us” or “we.” This thoroughly confused Noah, but it actually happens more often than Noah thought.
Victoria also witnessed these strange things, and now Eric was beginning to see them see his transitions. This was not really a problem, but having his friends worry about him made Eric nervous. Even Michel, his boss, was noticing the changes. Eric was not ready to tell them about Cire, this put a strain on his mentality, and eventually it started to break the borders between Eric and Cire. One time in a planning meeting, Victoria noticed Eric’s normally blue eyes were turning a shade of purple, and at the end of the meeting, his left eye was still an ocean blue, but his right eye was a blood red.
Once the meeting was over Victoria pulled Eric aside, “Hey Eric. What’s going on with your eyes?” Eric flipped out his phone and turned on the inner camera, “Ah it’s an eye condition, don’t worry I already have an optometrist appointment.” Victoria was satisfied, but did not see such an appointment on Eric’s schedule.
“Might be on his private schedule, and not his business one.” “Business one what,” Michel had walked around the corner to hear her musing to herself. “Oh, nothing Eric has an optometrist appointment and it is not on his business schedule.” “Is this about his red-eye?” Victoria stopped in her tracks, “You saw it.” “Kind of hard to miss, but my dad had something similar. When he was younger, he had brown eyes and then one turned a solid green. It’s just a thing that can happen.” Eric has been following Michel, but stayed around the corner and listened. He breathed a sigh of relief, now he had an answer for Noah. He entered a bathroom, just before Victoria and Michel would notice him.
He looked up and was staring directly into the eyes of a woman. Eric whipped around, his face draining in embarrassment, “Sorry wrong bathroom.” He opened the door and popped out behind Michel and Victoria. He walked past them and turned into the men’s bathroom and closed the door. He entered, and made certain that he was alone. Once he had made certain of this, he looked into the mirror and sighed, Cire did not appear. Eric stared for a while, washed his hands and left. His eyes were beginning to settle out both becoming their original ocean blue. Eric went home to find Streak jumping off the sofa and flapping her wings. He smiled this part of his life was almost perfect.
“Wook daddeh. Fwuffy ca’ fwy,” she jumped off the sofa, her wings buzzing, and she landed very gently on the glass coffee table two feet in front of her; her hooves just tapping the glass. “That’s quite impressive Streak. So, how has your day been.” “Weww. Stweak fiwst nummed kibbwe den pwayed in yawd. Was waughin’ to woud, ‘cos mean soundin’ fwuffies began tawkin’ about Steeak wettin’ them into yawd. Buh daddeh Stweak nu did. Stweak towd them to go ‘way ow wouwd teww daddeh to gib dem wowstes’ gib owwies tu an’ foweba sweepies. Dey weft aftah that. Den fwuffy nummed again, swept, an’ began fwyin’. Den daddeh came home.” Eric smiled and nodded, “Good job girl,” he patted her head and picked her up. “Never let other fluffies in the yard, there are so few good ones among all the bad ones.” He brushed her fluff, and placed her on the floor.
Streak followed Eric outside and watched him go into the green house. He come out with an arm load of parsley. He distributed the parsley along the outside of the fence. Feral fluffies would love this. In order to put the male fluffies off guard, and to let their pregnant mares eat the parsley, Eric placed potatoes and carrots along the fence as well. Eric’s head slammed to the right his ear smacking into his shoulder his body began shuddering. Cire lifted his head up and shook his whole-body top to bottom. He looked over the fence, it took a little time remember what Eric was doing, but eventually he did. “So, you’re protecting her by going to the extreme. I wonder Eric what about the reject herd?” “Don’t worry about them,” they shook their head and Eric emerged, “they know not to let their soon-mammas eat parsley.”
Eric turned around to see that the auto waterer was running low. He popped the water container’s lid off, and filled it up, rinsing it out first. The kibble was also running low, so Eric dumped it out into the composter, and refilled it, adding a 40-60 mix of extra protein and estrogen supplements. Streak walked inside again and leaped onto the sofa using her wings to give herself an extra boost. She then leaped onto the coffee table flapping her wings. Once again, she landed with a quiet tap. She turned around, using her wings for balance, lifted herself on her back-hooves. She began to dance, her hooves tap-tap-tapping on the glass. Eric half laughed at this, and then she fell back-wards. Eric raced forwards, but Streak used her wings and tail to right herself like a cat, and caught herself before she hit the rug. Eric sighed with relief as he picked her up into a hug. “Okay, how about not dancing on the table.” Streak hugged Eric, “Stweak nu danci on tabwe again. Stweak pwomise.”
Streak loved this life, all she had to do was give her dad hugs and love, make good poopies in the litterbox, never talk with fluffies on da other side of da wall, and most importantly, never go down into the dark room. In return her daddy loved her back, made certain she was growing and feeling nice, bathed he every Friday, and smiled at her when she flew. She loved everything, her balls, her blocks, her little bath, she even loved the weird kibble. But her favorite days were Saturday and Sunday, and she loved Sunday a little bit more because that is spaghetti day. Overall, her life was happy, and she knew she was lucky. She walked over to her nest where her baby sling was, it was the last thing she had left of her parents. She hugged the sling close and somehow knew that her parents would be happy for her.

Part 1 End

Part 2

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An honor to give the first heart to such an amazing series. saltues

Thank you Because the reply must be 10 character long i am adding this sentence.

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Wow. This is long. I like it, it’s just a lot and it moves fast.

I can fix that, too.

please.