The manager filed the quarterly report.
The new foals-in-a-can line had done extremely well, and in only a month the fluffmart had added 12% extra gross per day. Now, Hasbio was making plans for an industrial extension to the production floor at each mart: a full foal-factory set up alongside the production floor so they went straight from breeder to can to vending machine.
Apparently, the suits at the top had been able to negotiate bringing back the factories in a smaller form.
PETA was up-in-arms, of course, as were plenty of fluffy-rights groups, but there wasnât much they could do now that fluffies were the most profitable business on earth. Money made even bleeding-hearts reconsider their views.
Hasbio sent a few new normal breeders in the meantime. All of which seemed to have taken their training well, and had raised a decent first clutch each. 16 foals born in only 3 days. Several browns and greens, but they were being cared for. There was even an alicorn.
Along with the breeders, three professional handlers had finally been sent out to train the production staff. In a week or two, the manager probably wouldnât have to constantly be down on the floors fixing things.
There was one report left on her desk today concerning the potential use of the milkbags and sound recordings for rearing some of the stock foals, instead of having the breeders do it. Apparently, it was a little faster and cheaper and it kept the foals âfreshâ mentally as they wouldnât imprint on a breeder- perfect for human sale.
She gave it the approval stamp and sat back, looking out the window at the sunny day outside.
Yes, things were going quite well, and the past months of stress seemed now like a small obstacle on the road to easy-living.
Wiggle had been adopted by an older man.
He was placed into a little Fluffmart stamped box and kept there the whole car-ride to the old manâs home. He asked lots of questions through the cardboard about all the new things he was smelling and hearing the whole time, but the man gave only small answers.
âWhud am dat sound daddeh!?â
âIts a car,â
âWhud am dat smeww daddeh?â
âProbably that burger shop we just passed,â
And on it went for a good long drive.
When they arrived at the manâs house, he sighed when he picked up the box and opened it. Wiggle reached up, hooves out in the âhuggyâ pose. The man grabbed him with one hand in a somewhat tight grip.
âYay! Wub upsie-huggies daddeh!â Wiggle cheered, his hooves waving with excitement. A little poop nugget shot out of him, but neither he nor the man noticed.
The man said nothing for a few moments, staring forward. Wiggle turned- difficult due to his daddyâs grip- to where the man was looking. A small house, on a street of many similar looking houses. Wiggle recognized what a house was from his training- it was where human mommies and daddies lived⌠and where fluffies like him got to live when adopted!
âNyu daddeh, dis am nice housie foâ Wiggwe?â heâs said, with a little innocent smile.
âNice? Heh, not with her in itâŚâ the man had said under his breath, leaving the car.
A few seconds of confusion later, Wiggle heard the manâs special friend shouting from the house, âHAROLD! YER LATE GETTING HOME! YA WERENâT SEEING ANOTHER WOMAN, WERE YA?!â she screamed, bursting through the front door.
âNo, as usual I wasnât! I just took a trip ta the shop and-â
âDONâT GIMME THEM EXCUSES YOU BASTARD!â
âWILL YA GET OFF MY ASS FER EVEN FIVE MINUTES!?â
The pair shouted at each other for some time. It scared Wiggle deeply- he cowered, closed his eyes, and placed his hooves over his ears. Eventually, the noise stopped, and when Wiggle looked up, he found he was in a dim room with tools and boxes strewn about.
He hugged the manâs hand, âwuv upsies nice daddeh!â he cooed, looking around. They were in the manâs garage, not that Wiggle knew, âwuv nyu housie, tuu!â he said instinctively, âwai daddehâs speshuw fwend du shouties? She nu wub Wiggwe?â
âNot quite. She doesnât love me,â
âNu wub? Mebbeh twy huggies? Huggies maek fings bettah!â
The man simply smiled back and placed Wiggle down on a workbench, holding him steady with one hand, âknow why I picked ya, buddy?â
As his legs were strapped down, Wiggle replied, âdaddeh am wonwey fwom nu wub speshuw fwend? Wan Wiggwe to gif wub instead?â
âHa! Ya ainât too far off ta be honestâŚâ
âDis am nyu game, daddeh?â Wiggle said, sniffing at the straps on his front legs, âWiggwe wuv pway gamies!â
Without warning, a small wood mallet came down on his back left leg, popping the knee out if its socket.
âEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEâ
âYa see, I picked ya 'cuz I need to blow off a lotta steamâŚâ he banged another leg, and then another.
âEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE PWEEZ DADDH PWEEZ HEWP WIGGWE HAF BIGGESâ OWIES- NU MOWE HUWTIES PWEEEEEZ EEEEEEâ
âDonât worry, I ainât gonna kill ya. I used ta be vet! Used ta be. I want ya ta stay alive so I can hear yer little squeals⌠better than killing that hag and going to prisonâŚâ
Softpetal had sat in the bargain bin for the last week. Lots of humans came by and looked at her but every time she thought she was going to be a new mommy or daddy- they simply moved on, leaving her behind.
She, along with the other bargainfluffs, mostly just laid somewhere in the pen, hugging, waiting for a human to walk by. When one did, they would all rush for the closest wall to them, and start begging desperately.
Rarely, one of them would get taken.
Their happy cheers served only to make the others more desperate. When the nummie-human came and filled their kibble trough and water bottles, they all greedily ate and drank what they could.
One day, the manager came and picked a few of them into a box-including Softpetal.
âWhy takie fwuffies?â
âNyu mummah?â
âWan huggies!â
For the most part though, they simply cheered, happy to finally leave the bargain bin.
The manager spoke once theyâd quietened down some, âyou guys probably werenât gonna sell, so iâm gonna try and make use of some of youâŚâ
They were all brought back to the production floor, and their excitement only increased. They could smell and hear mummahs and foals all around them!
âWE GOINâ BACK TO MUMMAHS!â they all shouted in joy.
âNot quite,â the manager interjected on their celebration, âyou see- weâre trying a few things out when it comes to⌠uh, making new babies, and so a lot of mommies canât, uh⌠play with them⌠or give them any hugs or love! So, we need you to play with and hug all those babies. Think you can do that?â
The fluffies cheered in agreement. They got adopted AND they got to play with babbehs all day!?
The box was lowered down and slowly tilted, allowing them they all to walk out into pen full with foals. At the back were several mummahs- only, they had no legs and were sitting up straight, with lots of pipes and tubes coming out of them, and their milkie-places were very big too.
Some of the fluffies immediately ran over to the foals and started to introduce themselves. Some of the fluffies thanked the manager for âadoptingâ them. Some went up to the mummahâs and hugged them.
Softpetal only stared in disbelief.
One of the mummahs was⌠her mummah!? Yes, she was sure! It was mummah! But⌠why was she here? Why was she-
Oh it didnât matter. She ran up and hugged her mummahâs engorged teats.
âHewwo owd mummah! Sofpetaw am big fwuffy nao, an haf nyu mummah! Bud stiww wub owd mummah tuu!â
The mare above her began to twitch and shake, her ears perking up and down at the familiar sound.
âM-mummah? Sowfpetaw am hewe- wook down siwwy!â
The mare shook harder, faster- and a muffled, desperate screech could be heard.
âM-mummah? Why nu tawkies tu Sowfpetaw? Nu wub nu mowe?â
The mare began breathing heavily, her breaths making hissing noises as they shot out of the apparatus on her face. She shook so hard now that the entire frame she was propped against was also beginning to shake.
âMummah am anwgy? W-whadebah Sowfpedaw du, am sowwy! Pweez sowwy mummah! Gif Sowfpedaw wub nao?!â
The manager, watching her new four-legged âemployeesâ settle into their jobs, noticed quickly one of the milkbags becoming agitated as a purple fluffy, also distressed, was beginning to shout at it.
Realizing exactly what was happening, the manager sprung into action, and pried the purple fluffy away before it caused a reaction from the others, shuffling it away to a side room.
âOwd Mummah angwy! Huuuu~ owd mummah nu wub Sowfpedaw nu mowe. Nu wan gif wubsâŚâ
âAh, no no- that uh⌠that wasnât your old mommy!â the manager lied on the spot.
âWhu? D-dat nu am mummah?â
âNo of course not- your mommy was adopted! The one in there just uh⌠looks like your mommy, thats all!â
Softpetal fell for the lie, âw-weawwy? Sofpetaw mummah stiww wub?â
âYes, in fact your mommy said she loved you very much when she was adopted,â Softpetal beamed brightly at this news, âhow about we go get you some sketti before you go back to the foals, hmm?â
Softpetal nodded, and the manager sighed internally. Skettis saved the day again.
It was normal behaviour for milkbags to scream sometimes. In fact, it was odd if they didnât occasionally scream.
Their muzzles would suppress the noise, turning it into a fast huff of air out of their snouts. It was often accompanied by writhing and shaking in their restraints.
It was a sign of agitation, and would usually stop after a few minutes. Sometimes, they heard a baby get hurt in the play-pen, sometimes they just had an itch. Sometimes, reality was just giving them a little mental check-up. It was normal, and employees were advised to give agitated milkbags a few strokes to calm them.
Ocassional screams were a sign that the Milkbag was not completely braindead- in which case, they would stop producing milk.
Cupcake screamed all the time.
Milkbags, despite their situation, were actually fairly comfortable. They were tilted such that they laid slightly on their back against a warm faux-fluff plate, and their restraints were also kept loose enough that they could move a little.
Cupcake had been placed such that she was sitting almost straight up on her plate, thus her waste collection tubes dug into her insides.
The plate itself also itched her back and sides constantly due to a manufacturing mistake causing its faux-fluff to be made of longer and stiffer polymers than normal; its warming feature was also not fit for purpose, randomly becoming much hotter or colder throughout the day.
Her restraints were too tight, which restricted her already confined breathing. She felt as though she was always being slightly choked.
And due to her position in the middle of the foal-feeding area, employees rarely came that far in to stroke her, if they even noticed her agitation at all.
What truly tormented Cupcake, however, were the many babbehs in her pen.
For the other milkbags, hearing the babbehs chirp for milk and burp and giggle as they played kept them calm. Thus, when the vacuum on their teats was activated, they were more than happy to help the hungry babbehs they listened to all day. Even more so when they were allowed to nipple-feed the babbehs on reward-days.
It had been over a month since she had last seen her own babbehs, and Cupcake, in her agony, had deluded herself into believing that she would see (ha!) them again. She believed that the babbehs in the pen with her were in fact stealing her milkies, which she needed for her own babbehs!
She screamed and writhed as much as she could, not that she could really do much else. Yet, day after day her milk continued to be âstolenâ. Her own poor babbehs would have nothing, while these thieves would have it allâŚ
It was maddening.
And unfortunately for Cupcake, it was going to last for a very long time.
Warmy had been taken as part of a special order for a fluffmill.
She never saw Booboo again after she was sold. His ever-crying face on the storefront accessory shelf was the last thing she saw of him, not that she wanted to see more of him after⌠that.
She didnât say anything these days, and did as she was told. She hated numming poopies. She hated being a litterpal.
But⌠she knew she deserved this. She was a very bad fluffy. In fact, she was the worstest fluffy who ever lived. She knew she was.
Anytime the fluffmill fluffies came over, they would shout at her and say mean things and poop all over her. Some of them would even give her snout sorry-hoofsies.
But with a forced smile, she accepted the treatment every single time. Unknown to anyone, she had given birth. Two little babbehs. They chirped and crawled around in the box behind her. She could barely hear them, but she could feel them. She loved the feeling of them nursing from her teats, and snuggling up in her back-fluff for sleepies.
She was a bad fluffy, but she didnât think her babbehs were. They deserved better.
She had to eat poopies most of the time, but every 4 bright-times a human would come and feed her kibble and some kind of milk. It always filled her up and gave her energy.
The last time that had happened was 3 days ago, just before she had biggest poopies.
She had to stay silent until the human came back, though. If the other fluffies found out, they might rip open her litterpal box and kill her babies. She needed to tell one of the humans.
They would take her babies, yes, but she was ok with that. She might accidentally kill them like she did⌠before.
As long as they were safe.
They didnât need an awful fluffy like her for a mother.
Blueberry had been adopted only a day after being put on the salesfloor.
The human said that she wasnât his nyu mummah, but her daughter was. She wanted him to call her ânice ladyâ.
The nice lady walked him home, answering his questions along with way and petting him once in a while. They stopped at a park so he could do poopies and look around. There were a lot of other fluffies there, and he was allowed to play with some of them for a few minutes.
At the house, the nice lady fed him, gave him a lovely warm bath, and played with his fluff and mane and tail. Afterwards, he looked very pretty, he thought. His mane and tail were all curly and soft, and his fluff had been combed straight.
âAm gon see nyu mummah nao?â
âThatâs right Mr. Blueberry. Sheâs not home right now, but its not a far walkâŚâ
She picked him up and carried him outside, picking up a large bag with a heart on it along the way.
They walked from the house for a little while, Blueberry staying close and doing as he was asked- especially when they came to a road crossing; in training, he had learned about things called âcarsâ- big monsters that served humans by carrying them around, but they only stayed on roads. He had to stay at the side of the road and wait for the car monsters to pass.
Eventually, the pair reached a new housie- only this one was huge and white and had a big red cross above the door.
The nice lady had him climb into the bag and told him to stay quiet until they were inside. He sat silently in the bag with a big smile. He was seeing and smelling so many new things!
Heâd only seen the outside once during training, but the world was so much bigger than heâd thought.
After a little while, the nice lady opened the bag again and looked down at him, âalright Blueberry,â she whispered, âyour new mommy is just inside this room. When I pull you out, I want you to say âhappy birthday Hannahâ and hold out your little hooves, ok?â Blueberry nodded, âright then⌠here goes,â
They entered the room, and Blueberry heard two new voices.
âHey honey, weâve been waiting for you all morning!â
âMomâs here! Momâs he- coughâ
âLay back down Hannah, you remember what the doctor said, right?â
âOkay dad, sorryâŚâ
âNow, we got you a very special present for you, sweetieâŚâ the nice lady reached into the bag and Blueberry readied himself.
âHAPPEH BIWFDAY HANNAH!â he shouted, holding his hooves out as he emerged from the bag.
âA FLUFFY!? Cough YAAAAY! THANK YOU MOM! THANK YOU DAD!â
Blueberry opened his eyes and before him was a bed with a little mommy laying inside. She was skinny, had lots of little tubes on her arms, and she had no fluff on her head. Next to her was a big daddy sitting in a chair.
The nice lady placed him down on the bed and he ran up to the little mommy. She picked him up and hugged him, and he snuggled into her neck.
âHappy 7th birthday Hannah!â the nice lady and the daddy said.
Uglyface snuggled up against his new daddyâs hand.
âDaddeh⌠when doctows cough takie huwties 'way?â he asked, resting his head on his daddyâs hand. It was warm.
âTheyâre doing their best, bud⌠iâm- iâm sure theyâll work out something soon,â the hoses connected to the fluffy disagreed. The doctors said that there was a slim chance that the poor he might live, he was so badly injured and infected.
Theyâd had to amputate his limp leg and remove his swollen eye. Unfortunately, several of his wounds had become infected, and they could only give a fluffy so many painkillers and antibiotics.
Uglyface been at the vet for a few days since he was taken from the dumpster, and daddy had been with him the whole time. Heâd never felt the kind of love he received now.
When he first arrived, he got a bath- but this one was good. It was warm and smelled very pretty, and the doctors were careful and gentle with him. When they dried him off, they used a special handtowel made of recycled fluff, and placed him a nest of pillows next to a heater. As he sunk into a post-bath sleep, he felt as though he was being snuggled by aâŚ
By a mummah.
By a mummah that loved himâŚ
He didnât have to num poopies or nasty sharp kibble anymore, either- instead, the nice doctors gave daddy something nice to feed him- sketti sauce! It tasted like love itself was caressing his tongue. He couldnât really eat solids due to the deterioration of his body, but he didnât much care.
Daddy said that he loved him. Nobody had ever said that to him. He got stroked and petted and hugged all the time, too. Despite all the pain, he had never been happier.
But what made him most happy was when Daddy gave him a new name.
Trooper.
He didnât know if it meant something like his last name did, but he didnât mind. Anything was better than Uglyface.
Today, the doctors had talked with daddy. He was too sleepy to concentrate on what they were saying, and daddy had come over and laid down next to him after. They played for a little while with a ball, and some toy cars.
âSay, budâŚâ Daddy said when they both too a rest, âhow would you like to go to a special place where you can play and hug all day long with other fluffies, and eat as much sketti as you like?â
Trooper weakly looked up at him,âCan weawwy cough gu tu pwace wike dat?â
âYou sure can! Its called Skettiland! The doc said that its a place for really good fluffies like you to go! There will be so many friends who will love you so much! And so many toys to play with⌠Oh- and your leg and eye will come back too, and-â
âWiww daddeh be thew?â
âWh- what?â
âWiww daddeh be thew?â
âO-of- course I will, Trooper⌠Iâll be with you alwaysâŚâ
âOtay, den Daddeh. I wan gu to speshuw sketti pwace denâŚâ
The doctors came back shortly after and took Trooper to a shiny metal bed with a warm light above it. He didnât cry when the poked him with something sharp, as daddy held his little hoof the whole time.
âWuv⌠yu⌠daddehâŚâ Trooper peeped out as he slowly became sleepier and sleepier.
âI love you too,â
The last thing Trooper saw was his daddy smiling at him.
And then he was gone, off to play forever in Skettiland.
