The Fluffy Factory: Family Business

>It's Monday morning.  You arrive for work.
>There's a sign in the window advertising a foal amputation service and its cost.
>It's not a fixed amount, but 25% tacked onto the base price of the foal.
>This is new.  You wander through the offices until you find Sarah.
“So, I have to hack the legs off of baby fluffies now?”
>She shakes her head.  “Actually, no.  I've brought Tiffany over from the weekend shift, she'll handle it.”
>Oh, Christ.
>Tiffany is Sarah's cousin, a blonde with her ears full of rings.
>She is also, at least from what you've heard, a tremendous sadist.
>Every two weeks when she gets paid, she buys a foal and takes it home.
>God knows what happens to them.
“Are you sure she won't kill all the merchandise?”
>”She knows better than to fuck with me.  Besides, Rob wanted the weekend shift and she was willing to switch if I let her do the amputations.”
>You're working with the crazy bitch now.  Awesome.
>You head to the storage room to access the basement.
>There's a new metal table in there.
>Tiffany is already in the basement when you arrive, checking on the fluffies.
>They're awake, but a great deal of them are clinging to each other and whispering.
>She coos to each fluffy as she walks by.  “Awww, don't be scared.  We're going to be spending a lot more time together from now on.”
>She gets a lot of whispered 'no wan''s in reply.
“No wonder the fluffies are so happy to see me on Mondays.”
>Tiffany startles a bit.  “Don't sneak up on me like that!”
“Pardon me.  You know the drill, right?”
>She nods.  The two of you get to work.
>You check the papers and begin the process of mating.
>Tiffany volunteers to do overseeing and manual fucking.  Fine.  You want to see how she treats the stubborn ones.
>It's not long before trouble starts.
>A purple pegasus stallion named Plum, who is getting up there in times mated, is placed in the sex pit with a new pink mare named Bubblegum.
>”No wan' fun huggies!” he snorts.  “Fun huggies huwt funny pwace, no wike!”
>Bubblegum is perfectly fine with that.  “No wan' too!  Wike new fwiend Pwum!”
>Tiffany steps over the side of the pit and picks Plum up by the scruff, holding him right in front of her face.
>”Fuck the mare, Plum.”
>”No wan', fun huggies make huwties!  Pwum no wan' huwties!”
>She snaps her wrist back and forth a few times, shaking Plum.  “Fuck the mare.”
>”No...w-wan'...wan'...fun huggies...” he slurs, a bit dizzy from the shaking.
>”You better fuck this mare, or you're going to be an example.”
>Plum begins crying.  His wings flutter and his legs flail as he tries to run away.
>”No wan' zampwe!  No wan' zampwe!  Pwum make huggies!” he cries.
>Tiffany sets him back down into the sex pit.  He rushes over to Bubblegum and mounts her.
>”Bubbagum no wike!  Why new fwiend do dis?!” she wails, unable to free herself from Plum's furious thrusting.
>You blink at him.  Usually, you have to thwack them on the nose or manually fuck them when the stallions refuse.
“That was effective...what do you mean by 'example'?”
>Plum cries again when you say that word.  “No wan' be zampwe!  Pwum make fun huggies as fas' as can!”
>Bubblegum cries loudly; at this point he's hurting her with his terror-fueled fuck storm, but she'll live.
>Tiffany just smiles at you.  “I reckon you'll see soon enough, knowing these stubborn little fuckers.”
>The rest of the morning goes as usual, but the fluffies are incredibly well-behaved.
>Unwilling stallions and mares are subdued with the threat of becoming an example.
>You breeze through the copulations in no time.
>Okay, maybe Tiffany isn't so bad.
>Around noon, Steve comes down into the basement.
>”Hey, Tiff, we've got some foals for you in storage that need amputations,” he says.
>”You gonna help me with 'em?”
>He shakes his head.  “Can't, Sarah has me on shop duty today.”
>Tiffany looks at you next.
>You just shrug and nod.  Once you get the last stallion and mare back into their cages, you follow her up to storage.
>There are four foals in a box beside the metal table.
>Unlike the fluffies in the basements, they are all in extremely good moods because of the constant care and love they receive.
>You hear one singing mindlessly.  “Fiwwy am sgettis, fiwwy am happies, fiwwy am fwuffy!”
“What do you need me to do?”
>Tiffany reaches down under the table, grabbing a metal basin full of tools.
>Beside that basin on the shelf are deeper basins, stacked within each other.
>”Put 'em in the empty pans, then help me clean up.  I'll whack 'em and fry 'em.”
>Seems easy enough.  You pick up the singing, dark green pegasus foal first and put her in a basin.
>These young fluffies are about four weeks old.  They're just over halfway to full size.
>”New fwiend!  Fiwwy am sgettis gif huggies!” she chirps happily.
>She's already wearing a collar with a tag from the tag shop.  Apparently her name is 'Fiona'.
>Tiffany holds her, belly up, in the pan, keeping her hand on the happy fluffy's stomach.
>Fiona wiggles her legs.  “Fiwwy am huggies, fiwwy gif sgettis!”
>Tiffany grabs a pair of heavy shears from the tool basin.
>Fiona giggles as her front left leg is pinched between Tiffany's thumb and forefinger.
>”Fiwwy tickwe!  Fiwwy wike tic--”
>She falls silent as her leg is detached and lands in the pan beside her.
>It takes her one full second to process what's happened.
>In a flash, Tiffany has a small butane torch in her hand, cauterizing the stump.
>”WHY GIF FIWWY WEGGIE BIG OWWIES?!” Fiona squeals.  Her little wings buzz so hard, they vibrate the table slightly.
>The other three foals, now in basins by themselves on the floor, begin to cry and try to escape.
>With surprising speed, Tiffany lops off the other three legs and cauterizes the stumps.
>Fiona has lost control of all her bodily functions.  She spews piss, shit, and vomit, which pools in the basin around her.
>After applying antiseptic gel to the stumps, Tiffany picks Fiona up, empties the blood and liquid waste into the trashcan beside her, then sets the wailing, thrashing foal back into the basin.
>”Next.”
>You set the next basin on the table and the process is repeated.
>Behind you, Fiona flops around, sobbing as she tries to escape.
>Once Tiffany is done with all of them, she grabs a stun gun from the tool basin and crouches, resetting the four foals.
>”You have never had legs.”
>Once they come back to consciousness, their only complaints are “Shiny cowd!”, “No smeww pwetty!” and “Tummy owwies, pwease huggies?”
>The reeking, filth and blood-soaked fluffies go back into the original box.  Steve is called in and takes them to the grooming shop for a bath.
>You help wipe the basins and clean the splatter that reached the table, as well as cleaning the tools.
>Tiffany has a satisfied smirk plastered on her face.
“Enjoying yourself over there?”
>She grins a bit more widely.  “Too bad there were only four.”
>You thought Rob was off.  Now you're beginning to miss him.
>No matter, time for lunch.
>Tiffany doesn't take her break; she says she wants to go check on the dams.
>The smile on her face as she walks down makes your skin crawl.
>Maybe it's time you asked for a transfer to a street level job...