Chapter 7
Finally, something he could enjoy. Punishments. Adam wasn’t an abuser by any means. He didn’t seek out fluffies to torment and didn’t torture them. However…he did enjoy punishing the bratty ones, and getting their attitudes in order. A lot of them needed a harsh adjustment too.
First was a light punishment of store foals. They’d broken the rules. When people passed by and asked to meet the fluffies, two of them had rushed forward and tried to beg for houses. It was reiterated to the foals that they do not beg for homes. They were play and answer questions if asked. The Mill didn’t like it when fluffies acted like common store fluffies, all clamoring and shamelessly begging for a new parent. They had the reputation of well trained fluffies to uphold. There was a third fluffy that had pooped in the playing area, and had claimed to poop where he wants. Worrying signs of smarty syndrome. It was always the damn unicorns…
Adam had to go into the store area again to retrieve the foals. He looked over the enclosures. They closely resembled pet store enclosures, set into the wall. They were far longer than they were tall. Each was designed differently, however. The pegasus ones had plenty of agility based toys and short stout structures and an extra padded floor. The pegasus tried to fly all the time. The structures and padding were also on sale in the store so the pegasus could feel like they were gliding, along with a harness with straps to let the pegasus be set in front of a fan…or to torment a fluffy scared of heights. Either worked.
The unicorn enclosure was set up with blocks and puzzles. Unicorns were said to be smarter, so this was to put their brains to use, limited as a fluffy’s mind was. They were also encouraged to use crayons. Crayons were all they got since paint was too messy…and there was no way anyone trusted them to not eat paint like the weird kid everyone knew back in elementary school.
Earthies had blocks as well, along with balls to play with. It was more basic but they seemed happy enough. They got to show off their robustness with the ‘lil toughie bucking stands’ which were also sold. Anything in the fluffy enclosures was in the store, down to the wallpaper and stickers. There were even a few kits to put together the things oneself. Adam didn’t know if the kits were easy to fit together or an IKEA level pain in the rear. He’d never bought one.
The alicorn enclosure was the best and priciest of all. They had little adventure forts which were insanely overpriced in Adam’s opinion. Yet they sold. Both creature and feature. Though they looked more like the dream toy set Adam would have for his action figures, just with no sharp edges and adapted for hooves. The slopes were gentle and had just enough texture that a marshmallow hoof could find purchase to pull themselves up on the slopes. The one featured this month was ‘Adventure Mountain’. A great mountain with all sorts of mini habitats. Plastic, painted ones…but good enough for a fluffy.
Adam knew he’d likely help Brad with stocking after punishing the fluffs (he owed the man a few favors) so he left the shelves be for now. He went to the ‘Time Out Box’ which was like a sorry box, but it was only ever one way. The fluffies couldn’t see out, but others could see in…and tell them what bad fluffies they were due to their ‘crimes’ being written on the white board above the box. Adam opened the top with one of his way too many keys, and scooped out the three fluffies with his gloved hands, wiping their sodden rears with a disposable paper towel. “Time for discipline, twerps.” He said, going into the back. Into the ‘Owies room’. A place feared by the fluffies. The three shivered, and might have pissed themselves if they didn’t already in the sorry box. Why did they just make more of a mess in these sorry boxes? Then again, they were foals. Fluffies had weak control over their bladder at the best of times. These were soft little foals. Untested.
The room was stark and bare with a cold metal table in the center. On the walls there were many implements of fluffy pain and torment. Many were unused and only for show. In fact, many would kill a little foal. Adam decided he’d start with the two who’d begged. A sorry stick jr should work. It was a smaller version of the sorry stick. It was made of a hollow rubber tube. It couldn’t gather much speed or power and wasn’t likely to leave marks. He put two of the foals in a clear cube at the end of the table. They got to watch the punishment of the other. The first one to be punished was sky blue with blue spots over him. She looked like Blue from that old kid’s show Blue’s Clues. Adam had the sorry stick in hand. “Do you know why you’re here?” He asked. He was careful not to assign nicknames, or they’d latch onto it, thinking it was their new name. They weren’t supposed to have names before they were sold.
“B-babbeh nu suwe…” the foal tried to lie. It was so obvious, the way it wouldn’t meet Adam’s eyes. It was as obvious as a little kid lying about eating chocolate while they practically wore a chocolate bar on their face.
Adam scowled, and thwacked the sorry stick on the table. It made a loud smack against the metal and made it vibrate.
The foal jumped and sobbed, covering his face with his hooves. “Babbeh sowwy! Babbeh asked fo nyu housie fwom nice mistah. Wan nyu daddeh!”
“That’s right. You broke a rule. Now you have to be punished.” Adam said. That was the routine. Make sure the foal knew they did wrong, what rule they broke, then punishment. “You get ten lashes from the sorry stick.” He said. Adam tended to be be lighter with the hits…but it meant the foals got more. He was usually careful to not leave marks on the little foals. It was bad for business, to have little foals with marks on them. He grasped the little foal around the middle and readjusted him. The darker blue tail tucked between the foal’s legs as much as it could.
Adam gave the foal a sharp thwack on his flank, and heard the same thing he did every time.
“Screee! Owies! Huwties!” The foal screamed, flailing its hooves. “Huuhuuu!”
Adam ignored this, bringing the sorry stick down. Each one elicited another ‘screee’ from the foal in his hand. By the time he’d given ten lashes, the foal was a crying mess, his face fluff damp. No blood, though the foal’s flank and rear would be bruised. The other beggar foal looked petrified, shaking in place, her tail between her legs.
Adam reached for her next. The foal looked prepared to run, but Adam said, “Running means five more hits from the sorry stick.” Her fear of more punishment outweighed her desire to run it seemed. She only shook as Adam lifted her up. Red on red. Reminded him of Clifford. Probably just because his mind was on old cartoons after Blue’s Clues. However, unlike Clifford this foal would not grow up huge no matter how much love she was given. “Do you know why you’re being punished?” He asked the foal.
The foal nodded. “Babbeh asked fo nyu home and nyu mummah. Babbeh sowwy.” It looked up with big brown eyes filled with tears.
Adam sighed. Guilt trip, huh? The foal at least seemed remorseful. “That’s right. You begged even when you know the rules say not to. Now you get ten lashes from the sorry stick.” He told her. He pressed her to the table similarly. The foal whimpered and cried shaking like a leaf, but took her caning without screams and struggles. There was hope for her yet. She didn’t even try to lie her away out of trouble.
Now…for the smarty. Or the wannabe smarty. He’d been staring with slightly puffed cheeks, but when Adam looked at him, the cheeks deflated like a balloon with a hole poked in them. Adam would know; he’d seen it once. A stud that turned smarty and became more annoying than his color was worth. After he’d been provoked to puff up his cheeks, a co-worker used a needle to pierce them. It had been funny as hell to watch him try to puff his cheeks back up and be frustrated by his failures. Adam picked him up. “I think you need to meet a real smarty. If you beat him, you can be a smarty.” This was always the deal. And the foal always lost against the adult smarty. The Mill took in a few smarties for punishments like this. Or just aggressive fluffies. Luckily there was one nearby. He was likely the most well behaved smarty and the least likely to screech, so he got to be the store punisher. He took to the job pretty well. He knew not to kill or seriously harm any foals. He especially knew no enfies to them. As long as he followed those rules and the rules all fluffies got, he’d get sketties and his own enfie mare. It was a pretty good deal for a fluffy, Adam supposed.
The little wannabe smarty was kiwi brown with the kiwi green mane to match. His fur was fuzzier as well, making him very kiwi like indeed. He took him over to the smarty pen. This was a pen on the floor, which was in view of the cube for the other punished fluffies. Adam went to a cage on the wall. It was actually pretty well furnished, and tapped on the bars. “Crusher. We’ve got a wannabe smarty here.” He said.
Crusher, a maroon fluffy with darker spots and a deep brown mane waddled up. His girth was part muscle, but probably mostly fat from the sketties and his tendency to lay around. “Cwushew get tu gib huwties?” He asked in a deep voice. Deep for a fluffy.
“That’s right. If he beats you, he gets to be a smarty. But I want you to show him why he doesn’t want to be a smarty. He’d have to fight all the time.” This was for the foal to hear. He lifted Crusher out and set him on the floor. Maybe he had to lose a little weight…or get a lower cage. He smirked at the smarty. “Still want to be a smarty? Crusher here is a big smarty. He’s had many fights with other smarties and won. As a smarty, you have to fight all the time. And people won’t like you.”
Crusher stomped the floor, pawing it like a bull or an agitated horse. “Tu widdle tu be smawty.” He charged…er, waddled forward and head butted the foal. It was more of a face butt, since he was told to not use his horn. That could do damage to the paper thin flesh of foals even if the horns were more rounded than a point. The little kiwi colored foal screed as he was hit and rolled across the floor. “Huuu! Wai huwt widdle babbeh?” It cried, flailing its hooves as if having a tantrum.
Crusher seemed to be rather uncaring about the foal’s plight. He was never father material. He gave out a fluffy roar- that sounded more like a squeaky ‘ahhhhhh!’- and charged at the young one, kicking him like a soccer ball.
“Didn’t you want to be a smarty, little foal? This is what smarties do. Stand up and fight.” Adam said. He could see the fear in the little one’s eyes. He didn’t like this. Was this what smarties were like? Adam could practically see those thoughts in the foals heads. “Mommies and daddies don’t adopt smarties. They’re mean and bratty. They give them to people who hurt fluffies, or just give them forever sleep.” He didn’t like using their language, but the foals needed to hear the programmed words. The foal looked at him with wide eyes before being kicked again.
“Nuu! Nu wan be smawty! Babbeh nu am smawty! Am dummeh! Dummeh!” It insisted. Adam put his arm between the two. “Enough, Crusher. He gets it.” He saw the fluffy huff, wanting more…but he got his reward after. Adam picked up the hefty fluffy and put him back in his home. “You did good.” He told the fluffy with a pat on the head. “Look forward to dinner. You’ll get your sketti.” The smarty was instantly cheered, his tail wagging. Adam normally hated smarties…but they were good for some things.
Now back to the foal. He picked up the sobbing, chirping mess. “You’re not a dummy. You’re a baby. Do you see now, why smarties are bad?” The foal nodded, sucking on his hoof. “Good. I’m gonna put you back with your friends, and you’re going to tell them what happened, and why smarties are bad.” He told him. Another nod.
He picked up the other two. “You two will tell your friends why you don’t poop anywhere but the litter box.” He got solemn nods from the other two punished. Punishing foals was pretty easy. They were still learning, after all. Punishments were good. It showed there were consequences for them messing up. It helped cement a lesson. He was sure he wouldn’t have any more problems with the kiwi fluffy, for example. He saw what happened to smarties and knew next time he pulled this, he could die. Or he would just be sneakier, in which case he was too far gone. He dried the fluffy’s tears before taking them back out. Appearance was everything.
Adam returned them to their enclosures, being careful to replace them. He told their fellows to be gentle with them, since they were still sore. Bruises at the most, but fluffies that looked injured were bad for business. He put the unicorn specifically in the nest so he could rest up. A small crowd of unicorns crowded around, asking their friend what was wrong.
Punishing the foals was done. He’d take a break to help with stocking. He shot Brad a text to say he was ready to help out. By the time he got to the back he saw Brad already unloading the truck. Adam pitched in. The boxes were mostly from Fluffco, Alenix, and some from Hasbio. Most of the Hasbio stuff was trash, though. Cheaply made and plastic. The other two and some independent companies took the fluffy business seriously. And it was. The Mill did as well. There was some good money to be made here. Even just being a warehouse guy with multiple tasks was more than enough to pay his bills and give him extra.
Next was unboxing and stocking. The boxes were no big deal to open, obviously. A boxcutter took care of any straps and tape. The rest were just the boxes the product came in. Adam took them out while Brad unpacked the boxes and took the goods out.
The first product out were the new brand of heated beds. ‘Sleepy Time Nesties’ to be exact. The exact same as the old beds but claimed to be ‘2x softer’ and ‘in 4 exclusive new colors’. The Mill’s store had a running promotion that if they paid $10 extra the store can embroider the fluffy’s name on the bed in a thread color of their choosing. They hired a few good sewers. Was that the professional term? Adam didn’t know. He put the boxes in their blank pace, next to the same beds that were apparently not as soft and in less colors. These colors were in secondary instead of primary colors. The tone of all the colors were muted to promote sleepiness…or so the box said.
Next was the same aisle…night lights. These were a redesign. The old ones had been called back because apparently the product tester was a morn. The design was a moon with a happy face. It looked normal enough when all lights were on, but when the lights were off and only the night light was on…well, it looked fairly horrifying. The eyes and mouth were thicker, making it look like a circle of light with blacked out eyes and a smile. …Yeah. Nightmares were had by fluffies, so it was recalled and redesigned. The new box even had pictures as ‘proof’ it was better. Adam still found it looked creepy to him, but the managers approved this one. Adam set them on the shelf with the other ones. The others were some mascots from fluffy TV shows or kids shows fluffies liked. Normal nightlights.
Another product…oh, these were punishment items. A new type of sorry box. This one had different protrusions from the floor to ensure the fluffy could not get comfortable. There was also a tiny speaker in the box to tell the fluffy what they did wrong, or to just berate them. Pretty high tech. And this was just punishment, not abuse.
Same aisle, next product. The sorry stick. This one had little spikes on it. It wasn’t meant to break the fluffy’s skin, but it added an ‘extra string to the swat’ to ensure the fluffy remembered that lesson. Why a regular sorry stick wouldn’t do, Adam didn’t know. Well, someone would buy it. They always did. The punishment aisle was truly that. Punishment. They could sell abuse things, but it would be overpriced, especially with even an earthie costing upwards of $100. These were purebred designer fluffs. Nobody was going to use them as an abuse toy unless they had way too much time and money on their hands. It was easier to just get a stray fluffy from the nearby dirty alleyway.
The next was the grooming aisle. A razor with a long guard for the long haired fluffies. Some people liked the groom the fluffy themselves. This was to get rid of excess fluff while leaving enough to keep the fluffy warm. They sold some long haired fluffies. They reminded Adam of Afghan hounds. They probably had that kind of canine DNA in them. They were also constantly tripping over their leg fur and complaining they couldn’t see. More trouble than it was worth unless you didn’t have to be the one to deal with the complaints. Along with the razor there was a special fluffy conditioner. ‘No More Huus’ which was advertised to help de tangle a fluffy’s fur without pain so the brushing was a breeze. It reminded Adam of the shampoo he used as a kid. No more tears it advertised. And his friend had poured some in his eye to try to prove it. …He wasn’t the smartest friend.
Next…toys. This one was a car that fluffies could drive. Great. Adam didn’t even think the kids should get those little cars they could drive. Now fluffies got one! They were meant to be lightweight so it wouldn’t hurt another fluffy if yours was a clumsy driver…or a homicidal one. It was the biggest set of boxes by far.
Adam ended up being wrong. This one was the biggest. A pirate adventure play set. A ship for your fluffy to explore, complete with accessories such as a pirate hat, eye patch, or parrot toy that clipped on like a barret. The bottom was a blue shallow dish for enough water to go up to a fluffy’s hooves for realism. Yet not enough to easily drown. Easily was the key word since fluffies could choke on their own spit. It did look like it would be fun if he was the size of an action figure.
There was a ‘Lil Toughies’ brand ball in three different sizes. It was a weighted ball meant to help improve a fluffy’s strength. It was not recommended for pegusai or runts. They went with the other exercise products. There were even little fluffy treadmills. The treadmill was recommended for fluffies who needed to lose weight, or overactive fluffies who needed to burn energy. There was also an alternate shape treadmill. It was shaped like a giant wheel on a base. It was brightly painted with hoof prints painted on the inside to encourage the fluffies. Thought it meant they could only see the pattern in front of them. The traditional treadmill meant they could be tempted by a treat. No TV though. That was tested by some YouTuber. The fluffy would sit and stare at FluffTV. No show would make him able to walk and watch at the same time. The same with music. They had to chase something. The same YouTuber found it was easy to make a mare exercise when a foal was dangled by the treat string.
The next exercise toy looked like a long leash. One end looped over a fluffy’s neck. The second was to be looped around a toy or treat. There was a circular base where the object could be seen by the fluffy when beside it. It was meant to be like a dog chasing the end of their leash around and object and never catching it. The base was circular after a few choking incidents with a square base. It was the Fluffy Runner. The fluffies pictured on the packaging had smiles that were obviously photoshopped. The fluffies looked distressed in every other way, chasing whatever was on the end of the string.
The stocking for this delivery was done. Adam wiped his brow. Now…he got to punish the adults.