It was the third day. The man opened up the top half of the shed’s door and looked in at the teeming mass of fluffy ponies, which were huddled together in the middle of the room.
The leader was at the front, and looked up at him.
“Nu mowe twade.” He said quietly. “Hewd nu wan stay hewe nu mowe. Hewd wiww weabe.” The rest of the herd nodded along, all in agreement. Life outside was rough, but it was better than the endless fear and suffering they had to endure as part of the man’s twisted trades and deals.
Not only that, but the shed wasn’t great. It was small, it was full of old junk like twisted pieces of metal, broken glass and some rusty tools, and it was dark too. The only time there was any light was when the man came to visit with one of his twisted deals.
And not only that… but it was starting to smell bad. Very bad. The herd were all ferals, they were used to simply plopping out turds as they went and leaving them behind. As such the shed floor had very quietly, but very quickly, become carpeted with lumpy smears and stains of dark brown slime, which had begun to coat the hooves and coats of every fluffy trapped inside, embedding the smell into their own bodies too.
All in all, the shed had very quickly become a miserable place to live, and the herd wanted out.
“Well that’s a pity.” The man said, with a smirk, as a brand new idea came to him. “Because I’ve decided I like you all staying here. So now, I’m keeping you here.”
“WHA?!” One of the herd squeaked.
“That’s right. But if you still want to leave… then we can trade. Your freedom for something else. Is it worth that much to you?”
The herd looked around. This was obviously completely unfair, but they could hardly do anything about it. The shed was solid, there were no holes in the walls they could wriggle through, nor could they escape through the door. They were completely trapped, unless they agreed to whatever sick trade was proposed to them.
“…wha wan’ nao?” The leader whispered.
“Legs.” The man said immediately. The herd began to squeal in terror. “If any fluffies want to leave, then I’m going to take their legs.”
“Wha… wha if hewd wan’ stay?” The leader asked.
“Then you get to stay. Simple as that.” The man replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. “But of course, if you want something like food, you’ll still have to trade for it. Otherwise you’ll just be left here to starve.”
“Nu-u-u!” One of the herd wailed, burying it’s face in it’s hooves as it began to cry.
It was an impossible choice to make.
Either they gave up their legs in order to get outside, or they stayed inside and subjected themselves more and more to the tortures that had already been inflicted on some of them. The fat mare was still sobbing about the agonising burning pain shooting through her genitals, the leader was still limping from his own surgery, the loud mama was still inconsolable after watching her foal get squeezed to death in front of her…
The rest of the herd were traumatised just from exposure alone, but now they were faced with the prospect of having to endure some such tortures themselves!
Fortunately, the leader spoke up immediately.
“Wan’ out.” He said bluntly.
“Oh you do, do you?” The man asked. “Even if it means giving up your legs?”
“Yus. Weadew wan’ go.” He said, shooting an angry glare at the rest of his herd, some bruises still visible through his fur.
“Alright then, if you say so.” The man said, lifting the leader out from the herd and closing the shed door behind him as he went.
He carried the fluffy over to the garage, smirking as he went, biting his lip to stay silent.
‘Bad move, idiot’ He thought, as he carried the miserable leader over to his workbench.
He dumped the fluffy there and quickly bound up it’s legs with some cheap twine, performing a very basic hogtie on the animal. The leader looked scared, but didn’t bother to speak. He seemed to know what his choice meant for him.
The man was disappointed. He’d planned to do this nice and quick, but now… now it wouldn’t be any fun.
Unless…
He left the hogtied leader on the workbench and went over to a stack of old gardening tools in one corner. After a few minutes of digging, he found what he was looking for.
With the plug jammed into the wall, he flipped the switch, and the machine in his hands, made primarily for cutting trees, roared into life, almost growling in anticipation of what was soon to come.
“EEP! SCAWY NOISE!” The leader wailed, as the growl of the chainsaw filled the garage. The man smirked and carried it over to the leader, only regretting he didn’t own a Leatherface mask to complete the visual.
One hour later, he emerged from the garage, blood on his clothes and a limbless leader fluffy tucked under one arm. The leader had screamed the entire time, but after the chainsaw was shut off, had been reduced to snivelling sobs. Then the blowtorch had come out, which had brought the screaming back again.
Now it was finally over, but he was still crying away.
The man carried the fluffy from the garage to the back of his home, trudging from his garden out to the rear street, placing the leader down in the middle of the road, directly on the painted lines, between both lanes.
“Okay champ, there you go!” The man said proudly. “You gave up your legs, and now you’re free!”
“Fw… fwee?” The leader asked, looking around at last, his eyes blurry from crying.
“That’s right. You can go wherever you want now, I won’t keep you anymore. You’re completely free.”
The leader was overjoyed, and immediately tried to scamper away… but didn’t move. He seemed confused, and for a moment wriggled around in baffled frustration, before he finally made the connection.
He needed his legs… to walk.
“NU-HU-HU!!!” The leader shrieked, flailing in impotent rage as he jerked and twisted and writhed around in the middle of the quiet road. “NU FAIW! WAN WEGGIES BACK! PWEASE GIB WEGGIES BACK!”
“Nope. You made your choice, dumbass.” The man said, looking down at the fuzzy shit-smeared blob lying on the road. “You wanted to leave. I said you’d have to give up your legs for that. You didn’t even think about it, you said ‘yes’ and that was it. Now you’ve lost your legs, but you’re free to go anywhere you want.”
He kneeled down and smiled at the fluffy.
“Shame you can’t go anywhere, isn’t it?”
And with that he stood up and left, walking back into his garden as the leader continued to howl and shriek and whine. The man never saw the leader again, but the leader remained on the road for several hours. Sometimes a car would drive past at a high speed, roaring and shooting past, blasting grit and dust into the leader’s screaming, terrified face as it drove by, sometimes while drivers shouted at the idiot creature to get out of the damn way, prompting the leader to begin crying at how unfair it all was.
Eventually one driver made a choice, and either took pity on the fluffy, or was just in a sadistic mood, but all it took was one quick turn of the wheel and the fluffy was gone, leaving behind nothing but a red smear on the road.