Chapter 3
Sorting. Not much could go wrong here. Adam just had to be careful where he stepped, and sort out the foals that opened their eyes. He’d also have to see if any foals had to be disciplined. There were always problem foals. They needed to be either corrected or made an example of.
Adam went to the foal room. It was mostly filled with cheeps, peeping, and a replaying mummah song to keep them soothed. The room was warm, the floors made of soft fluffy fur over padded floors. It was perfect for the foals, but Adam had to roll his sleeves up. He knelt on the floor with his bin, knowing that most walkie talkie foals would come up to him out of curiosity. He had a smaller bin for waste.
A little red and white earthy colt toddled up to him. He had soda brown eyes and hooves. He looked like he was meant to be a Coca Cola fluffy.
“Nice nyu mistah?” The fluffy asked, wagging his mixed color tail.
Adam only gave a bland smile and lifted the foal. He lifted him over the waste bucket and pressed his thumb to the belly, pressing down. He got a tiny little ‘Owie!’ But Adam set him in the soft padded bin after. It didn’t seem to deter other foals from approaching someone interacting with them. The first human they’d seen come into their pens to do to more than look at the milkbags and make sure nothing died.
A cute monochrome white filly came up to Adam next. She had sparkling blue eyes and was a pegasus. She’d make some little girl happy so long as she behaved. Adam emptied her, which made her cry after, but once set in the bin, she started hugging the other fluffy.
Adam was half surrounded by this point. Hm. More than usual opened their eyes this time. It wasn’t his job to question, as per usual. He grabbed the next nearest fluffy. It was an odd type. A black unicorn colt, but patches of all sorts of color all over him. It looked like he’d been caught up in a paint war. Even his horn had an odd purple splatter on it. Adam emptied him into the waste bucket, then let him join the hugging fluffies. It was swiftly turning into a fluff pile.
On and on it went. Most of the fluffies had some complaints about being emptied, but were swiftly mollified by the presence of other fluffies. When he started to walk with the container, there were many questions.
“You guys are going to the foal place.” Adam said. The little ones were confused. Of course they were. They’d only known this place. Adam emptied the waste bucket outside, leaving it for the poor janitor to clean. He felt for them, really. Even if they made a good amount of money, they had to clean up fluffy shit, blood, and other biohazards. Not the most desirable of jobs. Second only to sewage.
Adam took the foals two doors down. Inside was a foal paradise. The floor was soft and squishy, along with the first foot of walls. The padding on the floor was all sorts of colors and patterns. There were beds and toys all over, with litter boxes along one wall. Foals of various sizes ran and played. Amongst them were milk mares. It was their job to be caretakers. Give milk to the unweaned, teach them to rules and litter box, settle fights, and wean them to regular food. It was found that the foals were happier to think they had mother figures to teach them and make them happier. Hence the giant playroom as well. The walls were painted to look pretty as well.
The bin was set down and gently turned to the side. The foals toddled out curiously, but the last three had to be slid out when Adam tilted the box at a slight angle. he left them to sort themselves out, and talked to one of the milk mares. She was a lavender earthie with a blue mane and sleepy pink eyes. Currently she was feeding an electric blue earthie with a turquoise mane. “Any problems?” He asked her.
The milk mare nodded. “Twouble makews in sowwy box.” She said. “Dey twy to be smawties.”
Adam sighed. It happened every time, but it was never a pleasant experience. It was also almost always the unicorns. Luckily he had a good way to solve this. It either fixed the smarty solution, or the fluffy was disposed of. Unless they had good colors and a fantastic pedigree, then they became a pillow stud. Milked for their semen to be deprived of the good feels they wanted.
He approached the small sorry box. It was nothing more than a small fence with a dip in the floor. It was enough for a fluffy to put in a fluffy, but the foals couldn’t get out. MAYBE if they used teamwork, but they were normally put in there for a lack of teamwork and getting along. Peeking in, there were three. Two unicorns and one earthy. The earthy was likely recruited to be one of their toughies. And all colts. There was a fire engine red unicorn with a black mane. A gold unicorn with a white mane. Finally a camo colored earthy. “So, you three. You think you can be smarties, hm?” He asked, surprising them.
“D-das wight, dummeh hooman!” The red one stated, seeming to have the most courage. “Am smawty. Hav tuffy!”
“Nu! Am bettah smawty. Am pwetty fwuffy!” The gold one protested. The two foals glared at each other with puffed cheeks while the earthy stood by the smarty with puffed cheeks as well. Adam sighed, and scooped the three of them up. “I’m going to show you why you don’t want to be a smarty.” He said. He took them to the next room. A reprimand room.
In this room were the ‘problem fluffies’. Well, that’s what they were called, at least. They were bullies to other fluffies, but they listened to their human caretakers. They seemed to know the deal. They got victims as long as they listened to the humans. “These are real smarties. If you can beat them, then you’re definitely the best smarties.” He plopped them all in. This room was different. The floors were still padded for fluffy benefit, but far less than what the foals were used to. Colder too. The walls were gray and plain. The older fluffs, grown, mean, and large looked down at them.
“Don’t hurt them too bad, boys. But teach them why being a smarty is a bad idea.” He told them, and leaned against the nearby wall. He would step in if one of the fluffies got too into it, or got turned on. There would be no enfing of foals here. It was against policy since a couple years ago. Something about too much psychological trauma revealed in later life.
It was a one sided breakdown. The other fluffies yelled about how horrible smarties were while giving them sorry hooves. There were even a few bites. But once the foals were down they waited for them to get back up before beating them back down. Before long the foals were crying and cheeping. That should be enough. Adam scooped them up. “This is why you should never be a smarty.” He said firmly to them. He returned them to the foal place, in the beds. He returned to the reprimand room, to write on the chart they would get their precious sketti for a job well done.
Next…checking on milkbags. This was easy enough. He just had to make sure they weren’t dead or struggling. That would affect the milk. Adam went down the line. He really only had to walk down the line to make sure their eyes followed him. If there was no eye movement, he’d have to check for other signs of life. He noticed the one he milkbagged earlier. It struggled and tried to make whimpers, but Adam ignored it. He smirked to notice an blue alicorn and brown chirpie feeding from it. The brown one looked just like a horse with its brown body and blonde mane. Adam turned the milkbag’s head to look down at the fluffies, smirking to himself at the scream of terror she made. Being fed off by a ‘munsta’ and a ‘poopie’.
He continued down the line, noting a few of the milkbags looked soon to expire, but were still living. They had a single diagonal mark on their chart so the next guy knew to check on those closer. The milkbags generally lasted a good five months. They fed them well, and only removed the legs. Though the psychological effects of having their milk ‘stolen’ by strange babbehs and not having legs took a toll on them. Their milk mares could last for years, but it was a far stricter criteria to be one.
A milkbag expired, so he unhooked it from the main apparatus. She’d had a mark, so he figured it was time. Pale yellow unicorn with a darker yellow mane and tail. He lifted it up to take it to the sink at the edge of the room. He took the feeding and waste tubes out. They were placed in the cleaning container, and the body tossed in the biohazard bin. They’d need a new milkbag. They could use formula, but why waste money on that when milkbags were cheaper? He went back to the space, putting a small board in front of the empty space. They didn’t want chirpies to go exploring or falling back there.
Two short jobs done. Next on the schedule. Breeding the studs. Ugh. Next to disposal, this was the most undersired part of the job. Who wanted to deal with constantly horny, sometimes demanding guys? The studs were always harder to deal with. They were bored. Their only event to look forward to was to screw mares. The didn’t even need to use aphrodisiacs. The studs were horny enough. He grabbed the chart from the door as he came in. There was a small explosion of noise from the studs, so Adam banged on the near the wall. Yes, a gong. Someone brought it in, Adam had no idea who, but it was a godsend. It made the studs cringe and stay quieter. The manager nearly removed it until he saw the amazing effect it had at quieting the noisy group.
Adam looked down at his chart. “Number 4, you’re going to be bred with mare Number 2.” He looked up to see the enthusiastic green alicorn with a yellow mane humping the air. “Save it for the mares.” He said. He opened the door, and picked up the hornball by the scruff.
“Eeee! Nu wike bad upsies!” The alicorn cried, but was ignored. They could carry any fluffy that wasn’t pregnant like this, so long as they didn’t drop the product. He brought number four into the breeding room. The mares were already placed in there. Number 2 was a pink monochrome mare with yellow eyes. She was a shy one, hiding under her hooves. Good thing Number 4 was more gentle. A rough stallion would give her trouble, but she’d be matched if the color possibilities were good enough. He placed Number 4 into the pen. “Have at it, you two.” He said sarcastically, and leaned against the wall. This part he hated. He had to watch, and make sure that they weren’t unnecessarily rough. He heard the greetings between them, and soon heard the ‘enf enf enf’ of Number 4 and the ‘eep eep eep’ of Number 2. It went on for a solid two minutes until he heard a ‘GUD FEEWS’ and Number 4 slid off.
“Numbah Too haf tummeh babbehs…” Number 2 didn’t sound happy, and was crying. Well, she’d had enough babies to know the drill.
Adam picked up Number 4, taking him back.
He put him in his cage, and checked again. “Number 64 with mare Number 30.” He said. He saw the enthusiastic young stud. It would be his first breeding, and he looked happy. He was a crimson unicorn with a white mane. He was wiggling in place, so Adam had to do the scruff carry again. None of them liked it. He took him to the breeding room. The mare had been removed, and replaced with another. This one was sky blue pegasus with a periwinkle mane. She was a more experienced mare, and looked at the eager young stud. “Numbah tiwty weady.” She said, and turned around. She sounded resigned. She knew the drill.
Number 64 had no reservations. He rushed towards the mare, bucking his hips like crazy, enfing away. The mare looked impassive. It was actually kind of funny. The young stud lasted barely a minute until the call ‘GUD FEEWS!’ Was heard and he collapsed sleepily off Number 30. Adam picked up that stud and headed back to the studs.
“Next is…Number 23 with mare Number 7.” He said. He took the excited stud, a yellow earthie with an orange mane to the breeding room. Number 7 was panicked, trying to run out of the pen, but the walls were too high, and jumping off would be certain death. Nevertheless, the mare wanted to escape. She had good colors, red with a yellow mane. They were likely to make fiery colored babies. Adam let the stud in, but the mare was just too fast in avoiding him, screeing. Adam had to use a hand to pin the mare down.
“Nu! Nu wan speshul hugs! Nu! Pwease!” The mare pleaded.
Adam looked away steadily. This was an unpleasant part of the job. He soon heard enfing from the stallion, but kept his hand on the mare.
“Screee! Nu! Bad huggies! Stahp! Nuuuu!” The mare sobbed, the fight going out of her. After the good feels, the mare sobbed about ‘bad babbehs’ in her tummy. Adam took a tired Number 23 away.
That was the last stud for this period. He made sure all the studs had food, and left to go to his next task.