Inside a dimly lit mill. A heavily pregnant fluffy mare sat inside a cage, sniffling and occasionally letting tears drop from their eyes. With a sky blue fluff and a white mane. The mare would be considered a pleasing shade to most eyes. She had no horn or wings, so she was an earthie type. But she was not lucky or fortunate to have an owner. This mare was caged up and bred every month to make sure she produced a brand new batch of foals for sale.
It hadn’t been this way. Mare B-17 was born in the forest to a feral herd. Her mother and father loved her and her brothers and sisters very much. The smarty was a good smarty who was fair and just to all fluffies who lived in the herd. There was no hate, no prejudice or malice. Only hugs and love. She even had a special friend who she loved very much. He looked like a pretty flower she saw once with his yellow fluff and brown mane and tail. Soon after they had special hugs. The mare couldn’t wait, she was going to be a mother soon and a fantastic mother at that with how she sang to her own foals.
That was, until the humans came by one day. They said that the fluffies couldn’t live there any more. That the space was being made for human houses. The smarty pleaded with them to let them stay. That was, until the human crushed his skull with a boot. The rest of the fluffies were then rounded up with nets, put into sorry boxes and taken away in vroom monsters.
B-17 was taken to what they called a “Shelter”. She had “Pretty colors” so she was chosen to stay at the shelter along with her special friend who also had “Pretty colors”. She wouldn’t know what happened to her parents, or her brothers and sisters. She didn’t know they had “Not so pretty” colors and were shipped off to a fluffy meat factory instead.
But these humans at the shelter were nice. They even gave B-17 a pretty name, Hilda. Hilda loved her new name. They gave her special friend a pretty name too. They called him Sunflower. She didn’t mind her life. They let her stay with Sunflower till she gave birth. It was nice to have both her special friend and her foals in the one place. She had four beautiful foals. While the shelter workers were happy for her She hoped that one day a nice human would give her big family a new home too.
But many bright times passed. And humans didn’t seem interested in Hilda, Sunflower and their chirpy foals.
“They are all so sweet. But I don’t have room for six full grown fluffies” was the usual refrain
But then one bright time after, a strange man came over to her pen and looked over her and her foals.
“Hmmm. She’s got two A-Grades, a B-Grade and one fail. We can live with the occasional brown if she’s pumping out two A-Grades each litter. Maybe breed it out of her with the right pairing” the man said
“And the male?” the shelter worker enquired
The man looked over Sunflower.
“The Yellow coat is good but the brown mane and tail doesn’t make our standards. We’ll pass on him”
“Are you sure you don’t want the foals? They are just starting to talk and will be on solids soon” the shelter worker asked
“With the mare we’re sure of the foal colors and we’ll just be guessing if we take a foal alongside the risk of contaminating bloodlines. We don’t want Sensitive Babbeh foals. Wastes months of resources. Plus who wants that brown? May as well just snap its neck and be done with it now instead of having to put it down later” the man said as he coldly assessed the foals value.
“Please don’t talk like that around the fluffies. You know the rules” the shelter worker whispered as she lifted her finger to her mouth for emphasis
“Sorry. Too used to working on the mill floor around our fluffy stock. Look we’re just interested in this mare, the Christmas green unicorn mare out and the black pegasus stallion”
The shelter worker sighed: “We’ll box her up for you with the rest”
Hilda wailed as she was being put in the travel cage.
“Sorry girl. But we can’t let you stay here forever. You’re going to a new home. So be good. OK”
“Buh Hiwda wan stay wit’ famawy”
“I’m sorry girl. There’s no more room for you. Sunflower’s going to the stallion pen. Your foals are going to the milkbag and you are going away to a new home” the shelter worker tried to sympathise with Hilda. But this was yet another mare to be sent Daisy Meadows Fluffy Mill. The top FluffMart supplier in the county.
Luckily. All of Sunflower’s foals were adopted. Unluckily for them. They all met with abusive fates. The brown foal in particular being last to go after months of torture.
Sunflower wasn’t so lucky either. A depressed fluffy doesn’t stand much chance at a shelter. He eventually was euthanized, calling out for Hilda just before he died.
Mare B-17 sobbed a little as she remembered her carefree life. She remembered Sunflower.
Then she remembered where she was
She remembers the first day when they put an owie in her ear.
“Tag that one as B-17”
“Buh fwuffy am Hiwda”
SNAP
“OWIES! HEAW PWACE HUWTIES” Hilda sobbed as the tag stabbed into her ear.
“You don’t have a name here. Just a number. You are B-17” the man coldly explained to her
B-17 cowered as she was placed in her cage. The final place she would end up in in her fluffy life. She was given low quality kibble and told to poop in the litterbox or else she would be beaten with the sorry stick. And it wasn’t a nice cage either. It was cold, metallic and she only had a blanket and a litterbox for company. B-17 looked outside her cage. Only to see a screaming mare in a workers hands.
“NU MOWE BABBEHS. NU WAN” an Orange fluffed and pink maned unicorn screamed out after she was placed back in a cage before she started wailing and crying.
The human coldly put her in the cage and closed the door before making a note on the file. B-17 noticed the same sort of file was on her cage as well.
B-17 adjusted to life in the mill over the next few days. She at least got fresh food and water every day from the human workers. But none of them were interested in helping her or even at least returning her hugs. They gently shook her off when she reached around their arm.
Then one day. B-17 was taken out of the cage by the scruff of her neck by a strange woman.
“Bad upsies!” she yelled.
“Place her with A-35. He’s an earthie too. But he’s got good colors. The litter at the shelter was good even with a sub-par sire. We want to take it slow at first, see how she does with one litter” the woman said.
Soon she was brought to a circular pen and placed into an immobilisation board
“Hiwda nu wike dis game!” she cried out as she wiggled her legs in the immobilisation board, unable to touch the ground. Just as a man was placing a stallion in.
The light yellow stallion with a blue mane walked over to B-17 “H-Hewwo nice mawe. Fwuffy am Ay-Thewtity Fiwe. Fwuffy hab tu gib yu speciaw huggies now”
“Nu wan special huggies! Pwease, jus wan’ ouw” B-17 yelped out
The stallion paused. He was having some second thoughts. Till the human tapped the side of the pen
“Remember what happened last time. If you don’t give her special huggies, you will get the sorry gel and no food for the next two days”
“Fwuffy sowwy! Gib’ speciaw huggies now!” the stallion yelped in fear before mounting B-17
“Sowwy, Sowwy!” the stallion yelped to B-17 between each enf.
Eventually he finished with a “Gud feews!” before whispering another “Sowwy” to B-17 before he looked to the human
“Good boy. Here’s a sketti treat for you for doing what you are told” the human told A-35 before lifting him out of the pen.
“Huuuuuuuuhhuuuuuuuuuuuu!” B-17 cried as she was taken back out of the immobilisation board and put back in her cage
B-17 went through the stages of pregnancy. The quality of her kibble went up slightly so it was some small mercy but she needed to eat and be ready for her foals.
One month later. “BIGGEST POOPIES!” B-17 announced to a mixture of sadness, fear and tiredness from the other mares caged in the room.
Soon. B-17 felt the pressure build up and release in her body
B-17 felt the pressure on her special place and felt movement as the foals started to crown out of her onto the bottom of the cage
“CHEEP! CHEEP!”
Soon B-17 was exhausted as she felt the last foal exit her birth canal. She embraced them all and started feeding them from her teats. Despite the horrible situation she was in. She was still going to be the best mother she possibly could for her foals
The next day. B-17 woke up with her foals. She ate her kibble and settled down to sing a mummah song
“Mummah wub babbehs. Babbehs wub mummah. Dwink wots ob Miwkies. Gwow up big an’ stwong…”
Soon the human workers arrived. B-17 didn’t know what they had planned. But considering where B-17 was. Their intentions were not good. Two big humans were walking down the aisle. One an older looking humans and the other a younger human. B-17 wouldn’t know it but the older man was experienced and showing the younger man how things operated in the mill.
“OK new guy. Here’s how we operate. You check each cage every morning to see if they gave birth. Check the chart on the wall for the color grades. It’s simplified for the fluffies so it’s very easy to pick up and make judgement calls for humans. But anything pastel and primary colored is good. Anything dull and brown isn’t. But always ask if you’re unsure”.
The workers peered in to the cage and saw the sight of B-17 feeding her foals
“B-17. This is a new one. Oh, looks like she foaled overnight. Good, we can teach her how the system works around here as well”
The man opened the cage. B-17 coiled around her foals and appealed to what she hoped would be the humans good nature.
“Pwease. Nu huwt babbehs”
The man then took out the file at the front of her cage.
“She has foaled before at a shelter. Johnny was good enough to write that down on her birthing chart for us. Just like at the shelter. She’s got two A-Grades, a B-Grade and a fail. So I’ll just write down a note to change up her sire next time to try weed out the browns”
The older man reached in and went directly for B-17’s foals causing B-17 to leap into action.
“NU! PWEASE NU TAKE BABBEHS!”
B-17 jumped on the mans arm. Only for him to gently shake her off.
“If they grab you or try to bite you. Shake it off and continue taking the foals. Just make sure you don’t damage the breeder mare”
The older man continued to take the foals out while B-17 protested
“Babbehs tu widdle! Pwease nu take babbehs!” B-17 pleaded.
“Remember. Don’t hit the breeding stock while you’re doing this. We’ve had some incidents before where an employee hits them and does some real damage. Damaged breeder stock comes out of your wages and you can kiss goodbye to your job if you permanently damage a seasonal fluffy”
Soon almost of the foals were in the tray
“Now we take the graded ones to the milkbags” The older man said “Put them in the collection tray here. We take them away so the mother can’t imprint on them or teach them things. Makes them way more reliant on humans and FluffyTV to learn. FluffMart loves having foals without imprints ready for the show floor instead of foals trained by parents who already know how to do things”
The man held B-17’s brown foal in the palm of his hands while B-17 scrabbled at the cage walls, begging him to give her foal back.
“So you’re probably wondering how do you get rid of the foals if the fail grade foal is alive” the older man said to the younger man, who was clearly taking this all in
The man grabbed B-17’s brown foal by the head and twisted violently, breaking it’s neck and killing it instantly
“BABBEH?!? NUUUUUUUUUU!” B-17 cried in horror as her foal was immediately given forever sleepies and discarded into the waste bin
“Just like that. Just snap em’ and throw them into the biowaste bag. We’re not paying people to fuck around with them either so just snap them or else management will be on you for wasting time” the older man explained
“Baaaaaahbeeee….” B-17 cried and wailed out as her newborn was discarded into the trash.
“Woah, doesn’t that upset the mare” the younger man asked
“It’s OK, we have a system so that you won’t be snapping it’s neck in the future. Watch this”
The older man spoke to B-17
“OK fluffy. See that foal. It was not a pretty baby. A “poopy baby”. We don’t like “Poopy babies” here. So whenever a foal is not pretty. You don’t feed it. You leave it for us and we take it away”.
The worker pointed over to a large poster on the opposite wall. Well lit up so all the fluffies in the wall of cages could see. On the left side it had “Pretty Colors” and on the right side had “Poopie Colors”
“See that picture on the wall there? See all the colors on the left. Those are the pretty colors. The ones on the right are poopie colors. We only want pretty colored foals. Any poopie colors, we get rid of. When you have your foals, you look at the poster and feed your pretty colors. Not your poopie colors. Do it right and you get rewarded. Do it wrong and we punish you”.
The men walked away while B-17 cried for her lost foals.
B-17 cried and bawled for many a bright time. All foals were pretty foals. How could the humans be so cruel. B-17 looked over at the chart and saw all the bright colors on the left side and all the not so pretty colors on the other side. But how could the humans be so wrong? Aren’t all babbehs good?
—------------------
Soon after. B-17 was placed with another stallion and the cycle started again
“Enf. Enf. Enf Sowwy, sowwy. Enf. Enf enf! GUD FEEWS!”
B-17 was pregnant again. She cried in her cage all night. She didn’t want to be pregnant again.
Again in a month, the contractions started in earnest. B-17 had enough litters by now to know what was coming
“Biggest poopies!” she exclaimed
The mares around her were roused. Locked up in the same predicament. They could only cheer on whenever one of their friends gave birth
“Fwuffy otay?” “Be mummah soon!” “Fwuffy gud fwuffy!”
B-17 strained and cried out as she pushed out her foals
Soon, she had finished birthing all of her foals
B-17 looked at her foals. Three that were pretty colors would what make it according to the pictures on the wall. One that was not a pretty color according to the picture. It looked like the same color as poopies. But it’s impossible. All babbehs are good babbehs.
B-17 knew what she had to do. She took the brown foal, placed it in her hooves
And moved it to her teat to feed.
All her foals were the “Bestest” foals. But the brown foal? It needed as much love as possible in the little time it had
The next bright time. B-17 had gathered all her foals. This time she cuddled up close and tight with her foals. Hoping to protect them
“Three A-Grades and a fail. This mare’s looking to be quite the lucky pick up considering we got it from a shelter. A-Grades to the milkbags”
“Pwease. Babbehs tu’ widdle” B-17 pleaded. Hoping to appeal to the humans better nature. Only to be ignored
The older “Dispose of the brown one”
The younger man obliged and took the foal in the palm of his hand while it chirped in distress
“Babbeh….nuuuuuuuuuu….”
The younger man snapped it’s neck only to react in shock immediately
“GODDAMNIT. The damn foal peed and shit in my hand when I snapped it’s neck!”
If B-17’s heart wasn’t broken. She might have cracked a small smile. She gave her foal as much love as she could possibly give it in the brief time she had with it and it paid her back by giving sorry poopies to her tormentor.
“It’s OK. It happens. Some of them over feed their failed foals to screw around with us. Let me check this one’s records”
The man rifled through the folder in front of B-17’s cage
“Her second litter here. We haven’t broken her in enough yet”
B-17 went to curl up and cry only to cry out as she was pulled upwards by the worker
“EEEE! BAD UPSIES” B-17 yelled out as she was dragged out of the cage by her mane and placed on the cart
“So if they try anything like that again you just take the sorry gel from the cart, and rub it on their teats. Remember. Don’t hit them.”
B-17 felt the man put some icky gel on her teats and was placed back in the cage. She didn’t know what it was till it started really tingling and burning her skin
“OWWWIES! BUWNY HUWTIES! HUUUUUUUUUHUUUUUUUUU!
“Don’t feed your poopie foals” The older man told her through the bars of her cage.“Remember what we said. If you keep doing it we start taking your legs and we turn you into a milkbag. You want your legs right?”
“Fwuffy wan weggies. Huuuuhuuuuu” B-17 sobbed as the gel continued to burn on her teats
“Then don’t feed the poopie foals”
The man placed a red X on her folder to signify her bad behavior and walked off with the rest of her foals
B-17 cried for an hour as the gel eventually wore off. She remembered what the man said. Don’t feed the “Poopie” foals. But she knew all foals were good foals. How could this be? How could she end up in a horrible situation like this?
—-----------
Soon again. B-17 was pregnant. Same stallion as last time. Still apologetic. But still gave her special hugs when she didn’t want to be pregnant
A month later. She once more cried “Biggest poopies”. And soon she popped out four foals. One for each hoofsie.
She looked at her foals. Two pretty colors and two poopie foals. She went to feed her two poopie foals
But then she remembered. “Feed your poopie foals and we take your legs”
She remembered what they did to her and gave her milky places the worstest burnie hurties the last time.
She placed the two pretty foals on her teats. And left the two “Poopie” foals crying and cheeping.
“Sowwy babbehs. Mummah wub yu’ buh mummah nu wan wowstest huwties again’”
B-17 cried with guilt as she fell asleep. Having put her own self preservation over her foals.
The next day. The same two men that had tormented B-17 showed up with their cart. Ready to take her foals again
“Oh this one gave us trouble the last time we knocked her up. Lets see” the older man said as the men peered into the cage
The older man observed “Two foals on the teats. Both A-Grades. Two Fails. She’s kicked away the fails and they seem to have died from starvation. So she’s learning. Low litter size rate but she pumps at least two A-Grades out reliably. Let’s try her with one of the better colored stallions and see what she pops out”
The older man tapped the younger man on the shoulder “Oh. And don’t forget. When they are good. Reward them”
The older man took out a treat from his belt and placed it in the cage next to B-17
“You were good this time so you get a sketti treat” the man almost smiled as he passed the treat over
B-17 sobbed and cried as she ate the treat. She knew she was doing something wrong by kicking her own foals away. But if she didn’t. They would take away her legs. B-17 got lost in her own mind. The pain of losing yet another set of foals stung through her body and mind. But suddenly she was interrupted by the screech of an upset mare in a cage next to hers in the wall
“God fucking damnit. This one killed her foals. Good colors too” the younger man said
“MANGO AM BEST MUMMAH. GIB WUB AND HUGS. NU GIB BABBEHS TU MEANIE HOOMANS. NU WAN BABBEHS NU MOWE”
“B-31 again? Let me check that one’s files…”
“She’s pulled this twice before as well.” the older man shook his head
The older man took out a red marker and drew a red cross on the front of her folder
“Three strikes for behavior so she’s out. Normally we use bad color stock from shelters as milkbags. But, occasionally we need to show them we mean it when we say we will take their legs” the older man helpfully explained to the younger man
“OK Fluffies. Listen up. Remember when we said we’d take your legs if you resisted. Well this “Mummah” didn’t do what she was told and now she’s going to lose all her legs”. The older man dragged the mare out by her mare as the mare screeched and “Huuuuhuuuuued” the entire time.
The fluffies in the cages immediately got scared when they could hear the “SCREEEEEEE!” in the distance as the disobedient fluffies legs were cruelly chopped off.
Murmurs came from the cages as they could hear the cruel procedure in the distance.
“Fwuffy scawed….”
“Huuuuhuuuuuuuuuu”
“Pwease nu huwt fwuffy”
Soon after the older man came back in with the mare holding her by the mane. Now crying and with all her legs removed, wiggling her cauterised stumps where her legs used to be in the air in a futile attempt to escape.
“This is what happens to fluffies who disobey the rules. No more legs. And we don’t just take your legs, we stick a pipe down your throat to force feed you, we blindfold you so you never see again and we strap you against a wall so you never move again. Remember what I said about your foals? We want the good ones. We don’t want the poopie ones. And we want the good ones ALIVE”
The man left with the crying, pillowed mare to take her to the milkbag room while the fluffies in the cages on the wall were left to take in the message. The humans weren’t just making threats. They would take their leggies and do all sorts of horrible things to them.
The wall of fluffies wailed and cried for the next hour. B-17 looked on in shock and disbelief. She was right to kick off the poopie foals. That could have been her if she didn’t behave and let her “Poopie” foals expire. B-17 thoughts turned to survival and survival only.
—------------------------------
Once again. B-17 was pregnant. This time they had matched her with a new stallions. A white stallion with an electric purple mane. He wasn’t as nice as the other stallions. He didn’t say sorry while giving B-17 special hugs and he was very rough.
But B-17 found herself in her cage once more. She didn’t stirr. She knew what was coming.
A month passed and B-17 had birthed again. Four pretty colors and one poopie color.
B-17 watched the poopie and her heart broke. But she couldn’t really do anything. The humans were mean and would take her leggies if she didn’t comply. She already saw it happen. Never mind the sorry gel that they rubbed on her milkie places.
She saw the brown foal and her heart sank. “Sowwy babbeh” she softly cried as she pushed it away
The next morning. The workers came around again
The older man looked in and smiled
“Jackpot. Four A’s and a fail. And the fail is dead. Match her with A-08 again. Dispose of the fail”
“Just for that we’ll give you spaghetti during feeding time” the older man explained
Spaghetti? That was nice. B-17 dreamed of spaghetti. She was so distracted she didn’t notice the other man take the dead foal and throw it in the waste bin
“Huggies?” B-17 asked as the younger man collected the other foals from her.
“Sure. Since you gave us such good foals”. The man softly petted her as B-17 coo’ed away.
The older man then put a gold star on her folder before walking away.
B-17 felt something for the first time since she was at the shelter. She felt love and acceptance.
—---------------------------------
Again B-17 was pregnant. Again it wasn’t pleasant. The same stallion as last time gave her rough special hugs again.
And once again a month after. B-17 was about to foal.
“BIGGEST POOPIES!” she once again exclaimed as she went into labor.
B-17 slumped in her cage. She looked at all four of her foals. As many as she had hoofs. And all of them were not pretty colors. She dreaded the morning when the humans came. They would not be happy.
“Wai babies aww poopie babbehs?”. B-17 sighed and then recollected herself. How could she say such a meanie thing about her foals. They were all good babbehs. But the big daddehs. They liked B-17 when she had good foals. How would they take it if all she had was “Poopies”
And then she remembered the orange and pink mare. And they took all her leggies.
B-17 pushed her foals away and went to sleep. Intentionally keeping her teats away from the foals chirping in distress to make sure she wouldn’t get punished in the morning
Soon enough the workers showed up
“Well fuck. Four foals. All fails. The good news is they are all dead so B-17 is learning”
“Babbehs…nu wan” B-17 sobbed out
“What do we do with the mare”
“Let me just check her records” The older man said
“Well, she has a good spread of A-Grades even with the worse colored stallions. This is the only shit factory litter she’s given us and most of A-08’s have been underwhelming considering his colors. We thought it would work out but might be a recessive gene. She’s fine though I suspect we’ll be culling A-08 by the end of the day”
“Thank god. Borderline smarty, that one” the younger man said
“There will be no shortage of volunteers on who gets to dome him with the bolt gun. If the bosses would let people take him home to be a stress toy, it would be even better” the older man chuckled
“So nothing with the mare” the younger man replied
“She didn’t fight. She didn’t fuss. She’s getting how the system works around here. But we need to send a message. So starve her for two days before we breed her again so she knows what happens if she has all bad colors”
The men walked off, leaving B-17 without any food. She wailed at the men when they walked by. Pleading for any kind of nummies.
The next two days. B-17 starved in her cage. There was no food. No love. No treats or anything nice. Maybe, just maybe having “Poopie babbehs” was bad?
—-------------------------------
Once more B-17 was pregnant. This time was a bit more pleasant. This time she was mated with the black pegasus fluffy with the yellow mane she remembered from the shelter. Better times. Just the black pegasus was missing his front hoof. He said something about not giving special hugs but he knew better now. It was a little awkward. Not that B-17 cared. She knew how it worked by now. She gets special hugs. She gives birth and loses her foals.
“BIGGES’ POOPIES!” B-17 cried out in pain a month later.
A few minutes and she had five foals. But one was “poopie”. B-17 looked on with anger. They starved her the last time she had “Poopie” foals. What are they going to do if she had another? B-17 had reached her limit. Her temper had gotten the better of her. She yelled at the foal.
“Dummeh Poopie babbeh! Mummah nu wub! Nu wub!”
With that. B-17 brought her hoof down and ended her foals life almost as quick as it entered the world.
But then B-17 realised the enormity of what she did. She didn’t just starve a foal. She killed it by her own hoof.
“Nuuuuuuu……babbeh……mummah sowwy…….mummah sowwy……” B-17 cried as she cradled the squashed foal in her arms and cried softly into the night.
The next morning. The workers came around to do their inspections as usual. Once more they peered into B-17’s cage and saw the familiar sad sight of a tear soaked B-17 feeding her foals.
“Fucking A. Four with amazing colors and all fed”
The man put another gold star on B-17’s folder
“Someone’s getting spaghetti tonight”
B-17 put on a grin “Fwuffy am gud mummah. Gib babbehs tu hoomans”
The other worker reached in to take the foals out. Only to stop when they realized
“Holy shit. She stomped the brown one” the younger man said as he picked up a squished brown foal corpse
“I knew she’d fold eventually.” The older man said “They all do in the end, or else they get milkbagged”
“Fwuffy hab huggies pwease?” B-17 asked the older man as he was plucking the good foals and placing them gently into the cart
“Sure. Why not for such a good litter”
The older man reached in and patted B-17 who gave a contented sigh at the only display of affection she had for months.
“So, why do we make the mares starve their own anyway” the younger man enquired
“I never thought you’d ask considering you’ve been quiet about it the last few months” the older man chuckled.
“The system is designed around apathy. We kill the foal every time after they care about it. They start getting stressed and stillbirths go up. We just take the foals away. They keep asking for their foals back because they still care about their foals and they also risk more stillbirths stressing about their old foals.”
The man pointed to his head to illustrate a point “But if you screw with their heads like making them starve or even kill their own bad colors and reward them for good colors, then you can alter their mind. So we punish them for any bad colors they keep alive and we reward them for good colors they keep alive. They lose the will to care about all of their foals and just feed the good colors because it’s the only chance of any sort of positive reinforcement like treats or spaghetti. And they know if they don’t fight when we take the foals, we give them more positive reinforcement like hugs and that’s all they can live for. We only have to kill the one foal at first to make an example and then the system is in play. In just a few months we got B-17 turned from a former feral who loved all her foals into a subservient worker bee that pumps out foals and doesn’t complain when we take her foals as she’s totally apathetic about them. The system works”.
The two men walked away with the foals chirping in the cart. Joking and laughing all the way how easy fluffies are to manipulate.
Meanwhile. B-17 sat in the cage, eating her sketti treat. Her heart shattered into a million pieces and a tear falling from her eye. All of her foals that she killed. All of them that were taken away from her. And she sat there and did nothing about it
She was the worst mummah of them all.