Suggested by FederalChemical1728. Loved the idea, had to run with it!
“Spechow fwend, pwease…” the red mare begged. “Babbehs am so hungwy.”
You couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at them. “Buh… nebah hab babbehs 'gain…”
“Yu nu hab babbehs nao if nu!” She snapped. “Babbehs gu foebah sweepies! Wose gu foebah sweepies!”
You didn’t reply. It wasn’t right. That place… it was horrible. You saw the former stallions laying on the pavement, sobbing and holding their special places. You saw the shame in their eyes even after it healed. There had to be another way.
“Yu nu eben wook at Wose.” She snorted. “Woostew am wowstest spechow fwend.”
“Yu nu gib up anyting fo babbehs!” You snapped back, spinning around to face her. “Woostew gib up bestest ting, Wose du nuffin!”
“Wose nebah hab babbehs 'gain eithew.” She said stroking one of the bony foals with her hoof. “Nu can if Woostew nu hab wumps.”
You blinked, tears suddenly flowing down your dark blue cheeks. “Wose… stiww wub Woostew if nu wumps?”
She stared at you then broke into something that was equal parts laughter and sobs. “Yus, dummeh! Wose stiww wub!! Nu pick spechow fwend fo’ wumps!!”
You felt hot shame prickle its way through your pelt. Your foals lay in a bony pile at her feet, curled against her drained teats. It was an awful, awful thing but… you could see sharp bones poking out from their thin fuzz.
“Otay. Woostew du.” You nuzzled into the pile of foals, feeling their little hooves hug your muzzle. “Wub babbehs. Nu wan… bad tings fo’ dem.”
You and Rose carried your foals down the road to the Wumps Machine. It was slow going, you hadn’t eaten for a few bright times now and Rose had only had the few scraps you were able to find. You kept careful watch for mean humans and other fluffies, being in no state to fight back against them. Eventually you rounded the corner and saw the horrible machine.
It was a bright green, with colorful lights depicting a stallion entering the small yellow flap on the side. There was a thick red line over his special lumps. You swallowed heavily. You hoped it didn’t hurt too much.
“Take babbehs.” You said, and Rose unloaded the foals from your back. You smiled down at them. “Daddeh wub yu.”
“Wose an babbehs wub yu too.” She set a hoof on your chest, a sad look in her eyes. “Awways.”
You nodded, turning back to the machine. Next to the yellow door was a small metal tough. Despite being licked clean by the previous users, your mouth watered at the faint smell of tomato sauce.
“Wook babbehs.” Rose whispered behind you. “Daddeh am su bwave. Wub yu su much, get yu sketties.”
It was worth it. For them.
You pressed your forehead against the yellow door, it folding up to allow you entry to the dark space behind it. The door shut with a solid click, and your heart jumped into your chest realizing you were trapped.
“He-hewwo??” You called out. “Woostew… wan gib wumps fo sketties!”
There was no reply. As your eyes adjusted you could just barely see a light at the far end, a dim red light. You stepped toward it, your hooves finding grooves in the floor to walk in. Squinting, you tried to make out what you were looking at. It was round, and kinda shiny. Like a ball, but stuck in the wall?
Suddenly something clamped around your hooves, holding them tightly in place. You struggled, feeling something else grab your burgundy tail, pulling it sharply and painfully up.
“SCREEEEEEE! NU WAN NU WAN! WOOSTEW NU WAN GIB WUMPS ANYMOWE!” You flailed as best you could, flapping your wings as hard as you could but the machine held you firm. You felt a cold thing touch your lumps and froze, scared pee leaking out of you. This was so much worse than you could have imagined.
The cold thing pressed upwards, squishing your lumps against your body. “N-n-nice… masheen…” you stuttered, trying to force a smile. “Mabbeh… nu take w-w-w-wumps? Jus’ gib nummies?” You stared at the shiny ball, hoping to win it over. “Babbehs hab ba’ tummeh huwties an-”
And then all you could comprehend was pain. Something crushing, far, far too tight around your special lumps. “NU WAN NU WAN NU WAN!” you screamed, but the machine carried on. You felt a sharp tug and a small snip and then the wet splat of something landing below you. “NUUUUUUUUUUUU!!”
“You are a good fluffy.” A buzzy voice said as your hooves were released. “For optimal healing do not touch the wound.”
You collapsed to the cold metal floor, feeling the wetness below you. The machine stank of piss, blood, and fear, and you sobbed into your hooves.
“Please exit the machine.” The buzzy voice commanded.
You stood and tried to compose yourself, stepping over the mess on the floor. “Gu’bye, wumps…”
You pressed your face into the yellow door, it folding open once again to release you into the alley.
“Spechow fwend!” Rose greeted you happily, sauce covering her cheeks. “Wook! Sketties!!”
You forced a smile onto your face. “Am… happeh.”
“Otay babehs!” Rose stepped back from the trough, sitting back and scooting the foals up to her teats. You watched your foals, the last you would ever have, nurse hungrily.
At least they would live. You may not be able to make any more beautiful little babies, but these ones would live.
“Gu, Dummeh!” The orange toughy jabbed his horn roughly into your flank. You yelped and jumped away, bumping into the yellow toughy on the other side. He spun and kicked you, sending you staggering the other direction.
“Nu wan twoubwe!” You pleaded, flattening your ears to your skull.
“Smawty wan twoubwe!” The pink unicorn laughed, pressing you forward from behind. “Mobe, ugwy Dummeh!”
You had been hiding from this herd for days now. What was once a very safe parking lot for a dull grey fluffy like yourself was taken over by a strong herd with no warning. From one of your hiding places under a car you watched how they treated the darker colored members of their herd and determined, rightly, that you needed to avoid them.
You… did not do a good job avoiding them. You started to make your escape, then got startled seeing the smarty coming and ran straight into the side of a pastel blue mare. Who happened to be the smarty’s special friend. Luck was not on your side.
They herded you along the sidewalk, taking any chance they could to hit you. The orange toughy headbutted you in the rear, earning a shrill yelp from you as your special lumps got caught in the way.
“Nu tuch spechow wumps!” The smarty snapped. “Nee’ dem fo’ get sketti!”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Nu… pwease…”
“Shaddup!” The smarty smacked your ankle with a hoof, kicking it out from under you. “Ugwy Dummeh nu nee’ wumps. Wha’ mawe wan yu?”
The smarty and his cronies laughed, shoving you down the road to the horrible machine. You knew of it, it was something spoken about by the other ferals you met. Somewhere a stallion could give up his most precious part in exchange for sketti. Worth it to some, the desperate, the starving. Some did it because they didn’t want to have babies, or didn’t think they ever could. You had always hoped to. You hoped that somewhere out there was a mare that could look past your dull fluff, and see you for who you are. You’d raise a few litters of foals together, grow old, and perish under the wheels of the same car.
It wasn’t much of a dream, but it helped you sleep at night.
“Gu!” The orange unicorn shoved you at the lime green machine.
“Nu wan!” You squealed, trying to back up.
“Jus gu, Dummeh.” The smarty said. “Nu fwuffy wan yu.”
“Fwuffy wiww fin’ spechow fwend! Make babbehs! Be happeh!”
The toughies roared with laughter. You looked around, frantic for a way to escape but they had you surrounded, back to the horrible depiction of a stallion being mutilated.
“Nu fwuffy wan’ yu.” Smarty repeated, a look in his eye that was almost… kind. “Nu wan’ yu cowwow, nu wan’ yu dummeh tinkies. Nu wan yu in hewd. Wai yu tink mawe gun wan’ yu?”
“Cuz… am guud fwuffy…?”
He stepped up to you, shaking his head. “Nu mattew. Yu nu pwetty. Yu nu smawty. Mabbeh if yu stwong it be diffwent buh…” He looked you over. “It nu.”
You looked down at your shaking hooves, the dull grey fluff patchy and matted. Your skin was visible in places, fluff chewed clean off from long nervous nights waiting for an opportunity to run to a new hiding spot. No mare had ever given you more than a disgusted glance. And why would they? You were ugly. Plain and simple.
With a heavy sigh you turned to the machine.
“It am fo’ best.” The smarty said, patting you on the rump. “Yu am usefuww, gib bettah fwuffies guud nummies.”
You hung your head and entered the dark machine, the door clicking shut behind you. Your heavy hooves pulled you forward, a sick feeling welling up inside you. What was even the point? You would get your lumps taken… and then what? Go back to being miserable on the streets?
Your nose bumped into the wall, you stopped. It grabbed your hooves firmly, you didn’t resist. What would you gain? Best to just let the machine work. You felt it feel your special lumps and a sob worked its way out of you. There was a sharp pain, the feeling of something falling from you, and then your lumps were no more. Your hopes of a happy family fell with them, leaving you an empty shell of the fluffy you once were.
“You are a good fluffy.” The machine said as it freed your hooves. “For optimal healing do not touch the wound.”
You sank to the floor, crying in earnest now. You could hear the smarty eating outside, gorging himself on the best food a fluffy could dream of. You would get none. Not that you deserved it.
“Please exit the machine.”
Why? To continue living in misery? To always be running, hiding, suffering?
“Please exit the machine.”
You would stay right here. Where an ugly fluffy like you belonged.
“Please exit the machine, cleaning protocol will begin in fifteen seconds.”
The sick feeling rose up your throat, almost like vomit. There was something building up in you, your pain curling into itself and growing.
“Ten.”
“W… waaan….” Your lips moved on their own, your eyes glossing over.
“Five.”
“Wan…” What did you want? What more could you possibly want now?
“Cleaning protocol commensing. Door will be locked.” There was a loud click, and some odd wooshing noises. You felt heat blast your fluff.
At least you were useful to someone.
“Wan… die.”
Sean Phillips, CEO of FluffMart Inc. sat back in his chair, staring at the screen before him. It showed the despondent fluffy, tinted green from the low-light camera, being incinerated along with his nutsack.
“Wasn’t this supposed to be… I don’t know, humane?”
“It was, sir.” You stood before his desk, stacks of papers in your hands.
“This…” he made a face, “is not humane.”
“No. But it is effective, sir.”
He put his head in his hands. “If anyone sees this we’re done for. We need to be sure these don’t breach containment.”
“They already have, sir.” You pulled out one of the print outs, showing the views on the video on xFluffy.net. “Two point three million people have seen it, approximately.”
“Then… we’re ruined.” He said, taking the printout from you. “This project was already risky. It’s expensive tech, and we get nothing out of it. You realize that someone has to fall for this, right?”
“Yes sir.” You held his gaze.
“And you realize, as the person who ran this project, that’s going to be you, correct?”
“Yes sir, that’s why I uploaded it.”
“…What?”
“Have you ever uploaded anything to these sites?”
“No! I can’t afford to be associated with any of this.” He threw his hands in the air.
“Sites like these,” you shuffled through the papers, “pay you per view. If we weren’t on company wifi you would see ads on the sides for porn and other abuser media. The normal stuff.” Finding the right paper you slid it across to him. “Content creators are given a small percentage of the ad revenue.”
He took the paper hesitantly, his eyes growing wider and wider as he read the figures. “This… is this just the one video??”
“That is only from the first week of that video I showed you.”
“…Shut up.” He stared at you, slack jawed. You smiled to yourself. “And… we have more?”
“Yes actually,” you handed him another print out, “this is not the only site they’re uploaded to. This is from one with a more… positive twist. Father gives up his testicles to keep his family from starving. More positive.”
“Inspiration porn…” He looked over the figures, tallying up the profits in his head. “So… how do these compare to running costs?”
“On the third party sites we are just about breaking even. They are all currently free to watch, so we’re not making as much as we could be.”
“So… monetize it? Maybe our own site?”
“Precisely sir. Tell folks they’re supporting humane population control with every purchase.”
He leaned forward, fists on the fine leather of his desk. “You realize this could have blown up in your face, right?”
“Yes, it already had. With the amount we were losing on every device I had to take some risks to keep it running in the black.”
He smiled at you, a toothy shark’s grin. “I do like a go-getter. What’s it going to take to get this project up and running?”
“A small IT team, a zero in my salary and a corner office.”
“Done.” He waved you away, and you gathered up your papers. “I’ll have it sent, get this set up as fast as you can.”
“On it, sir.”