(I’m glad my last mill chapter was so well received. My other stories will be coming soon. I was just inspired to write the second chapter of this one first.)
Chapter 2
Neutering young stallions was the next task. Not all of them got snipped, but a fair amount of them did. There were some who wanted to be able to breed their show ponies, and others that requested they have their pony neutered, pillowed, or otherwise modified. He looked over at the tub of foals and chirpies. Only a thin divider of plastic kept the two divided. Some of the ones Adam was surprised to see. They were stunners. Surely they could be bred to get big money? Ah well. It wasn’t Adam’s job to decide these things. It was his job to complete his list. He took the first one out. Mountain Dew green with the red and white striped mane to match. He put the sightless foal on the table, ignoring the peeps of distress from the cold. He got the pair of small but sharp scissors, positioned them, and in a squeeze of his hand, the two tiny nuts fell to the table.
“SCREEEEEEE!” The tiny chirpy made a high pitched scream before chirping madly. Adam took the second tool, a small version of the heated cylinder, and passed it over the incision, cauterizing the wound. The chirpy went into the outbox and he reached for the next.
Ah, this one could see. It was a white pegasus with a black mane and tail. It even had a few stripes like a zebra. Its eyes were a deep green.
“Nice nyu mistah be nyu daddeh?”
Adam didn’t bother to respond. He found it didn’t help, and only wasted his time. He pushed the foal down so it was flat on the table.
“Pway game?” It asked. Its tail wagged happily.
Adam had to push the tail up to place the scissors. It was easier with the chirpies. No tail, and they didn’t talk. He snipped the slightly larger balls.
“SCREEEEE! OWIES!” The foal started sobbing. “Huuuu! Why huwt babbeh? Am onwy widdle babbeh!” It cried.
Adam largely ignored this, using the iron once again to cauterize the wound. He was rewarded with another ‘SCREEEEEEE!’ Into the outbox with it. The chirpy hadn’t moved from its spot, still loud. The foal painfully waddled around it’s small space, calling for its mummah. Too late for that. His eyes were already open. He’d never go to his mummah.
Adam took the next foal. He pulled out one that was an eye watering red unicorn with a green mane and tail. Ah great. It looked like a chili pepper. The little shit had the nerve to puff up his cheeks at him. “Dummeh hooman! Nu take babbeh’s speshul wumps!”
Ah great. It was starting to show the beginning signs of smarty syndrome. Luckily they had a few measures to…strongly discourage that type of behavior before it got out of hand. He took a small rubber band from the side table. Looping it tight many times over a pair of tweezers, he opened them. In a flash, he grabbed the foal, turned him around, and closed the tweezers over his balls. Pulling the tweezers off without the balls, the smarty was left with a rubber band painfully squeezing them.
“SCREEEEE! HUWTIES!” The little foal screamed. Adam dropped him back into the inbox, and reached for another foal. That little shit would be left for last. He could think about his actions after.
He continued the snipping without problem. Seven more chirpies, and five more talkie foals. Finally he came to the red one, huuhuu-ing in the corner. Adam pulled him out, and snipped him, cauterizing him after. The foal started to peep like a chirpie. “The reason you were last and had all that pain was because you were demanding. If you are mean you’ll end up in pain. Too much, and you’ll go ‘forever sleepies’. You don’t want that, do you?” Adam said this in a monotone. They were meant to discipline foals when they saw misbehavior. Keeping the low smarty rate low. The foal gave a soft nod, though Adam suspected he’d need one or two more lessons until it really sunk in. They were all put in the outbox, and Adam sent the message on the pager. He saw John come in and take the foal bucket away with a nod, seeing hurried. Adam had to clean up. He put the biohazard bin on the floor at the edge of the table, before using a gloved hand to brush multicolored fuzzy fluffy balls into it. He had a small smirk on his face. A childish sense of humor, but it was one of the few lights in this work. He wiped down the counter with a sterile wipe, and looked to his next task. Pillowing and modification.
Adam went across the hall. There was a complex set of immobilization boards with blades underneath for fluffies and foal of all sizes. It was a high tech one with a nifty control pad so someone could make pillow, huggie, or enfi fluffs. Along with the boards shears to cut the wings off. There was also a plier with a small grinder for cutting horns off. Adding those things was a different matter. There was someone who could be called in, but it was easier to just wait until one was bred naturally. Usually the company got that specific fluffy within a few months, but some people didn’t want to wait.
The fluffies were already in. This time there were three compartments. Adult fluffies came in here. Sometimes the breeders were too difficult and needed to be modified so things were easier on the staff. Not a lot of them, though. There were only three adults. Adam sighed and looked down at his paper. He might as well start with them. First of all…he saw a name he recognized. “Well, well. Number 55.” He said. He picked her up by the scruff of the neck. “The foal killer!” He said loud enough for the others to hear. There was a huge fuss. The chirpies weren’t entirely sure what ‘foal killer’ meant, but knew it was bad as they chirped and peeped in distress, unable to do much more than wiggle. The walkie talkie foals all screed and ran about. The two adult fluffies gasped in horror. The shier one hid its face in the other fluffy’s fluff. They would have voided themselves had it not been standard procedure to empty them before handling.
Number 55 looked around in distress. “Nu kiww babbehs! Gib fowevah sweepies to munstas!”
“No. You killed your foals. You killed them because they were special.” He said. “This is the second time. You’re irredeemable. Luckily you’re too expensive to be disposed of. Even luckier we have a way to keep you and still get our profits.” Adam put the fluffy in the immobilization board.
“Wha? Why weggies no wowk?” Number 55 asked, trying to wiggle.
Adam ignored her as he powered up the machine. He pressed the pillowing option, with a cauterization and insta heal gel right after. He stepped behind the red line after the beeping, and watched the show.
The blade under the board moved like a sideways guillotine, chopping through all four legs. It took a moment for Number 55 to register the pain. Then “SCREEEEEEEE! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!” It tried to wiggle in the restraints but was stuck fast as the four red hot plates came up and sizzled against flesh. It caused a fresh wave of screaming, and was finished with a slathering of gel. Adam came in after the second round of beeping, signifying it was done. He picked up Number 55. “No more stomping on foals.” He said, putting her in the outbox. Best of all he didn’t even have to clean up the legs! There was a little box beneath that collected them all. He wasn’t sure what happened to them. Were they even worth the skinning and processing? Or did they just use them as cheap and fast dog treats? It wasn’t his job to know, so he didn’t care.
Next was the shier mare. She was to become an enfie toy. Adam personally found the idea distasteful but not his fluffy, not his problem. He strapped in that fluffy, who was whimpering and trying to plead with Adam. The fluffy wasn’t anything special. An earthie with blue fur and a purple mane. Must have been a custom order. He set the machine for enfie toy so it would only cut off her front legs, leaving her back legs intact. Her rear would always be raised and inviting and her front legs would be ineffective at letting her run away. The cauterization and instaheal gel would be applied after. The process repeated, with a lot of tears like last time. The fluffy was crying after about her leggings, not seeing to care much that her back legs were still intact. Adam put the new enfie toy next to Number 55, and the enfie toy protested, trying to back away, only to scree in pain from her newly injured legs.
Adam took the final adult fluffy. A green monochrome. It was a nice dark green that sparkled like emerald. This one was going to become a huggie fluffy. Only the back legs would be cut off. She would be able to hug and slowly drag herself around. She knew what was coming and only pitifully sobbed as it was next placed on the board, its legs slotted into the holes. Another button presses, a step back, and the process began. More screaming, sizzling, and crying. Adam moved the fluffy into the box. The emerald fluffy tried to hug the enfie toy, but accidentally brushed her legs, making her scream in pain.
Now he looked at what was in store for the chirpy babies. He only had two of them. The first was a de-winging. It was a white pegasus. To his surprise, it was the one he collected this morning. They wanted a fluffy that looked like a zebra. The wings ruined the image. Adam put the fluffy on a much smaller board. His little legs fit into the slots. The restraints were just Velcro. Adam got the de-winging device. It was really just a glorified pair of tweezers and shears. He grabbed a little buzzing wing with them and stretched it out, which elicited little peeps of confusion and distress. The shears closed over the wing close to the base. Chirps of distress came from the little zebra fluffy, and Adam worked on the second wing. The fluffy was crying and peeping like crazy while Adam cauterized both tiny wounds and put insta heal gel on. Into the outbox. Luckily the chirpies were so young that they wouldn’t even remember this procedure.
Next was a dehorning. Adam found of all the modifications, this was his least favorite. A large margin of error was there, as well as a risk of derping. This had to be done carefully and very young. He got the last little chirpy. The horse looked like a small, ordinary horse. Brown with cream speckles on the rump. The only difference was a horn. Adam didn’t have any mane to contend with, so he didn’t need the hair ties used when the fluffy was older. The older fluffies got the pliers crunched on the horn, then it was ground away, and a hope the process didn’t derp them. Adam strapped the little guy down, took the specially made tiny grinder, and ground the horn down so there wasn’t even a tiny nub. A lot of peeping and distressed wiggling happened. Adam only needed a light touch to keep the head still. No cauterization was needed, but insta heal gel was. After some of that, it was in the outbox.
After more medications, Adam sighed, and disposed of the gloves, washing his hands after. Next task…foals moving up from the milkbags to the walkie talkie pens.