The Alicorn Farm (FB 21273) (NOT MINE)

The Alicorn Farm

You are Blue, a navy alicorn with a indigo mane and tail. You live at what is called an alicorn farm with your special friends and babbehs. It is a fairly good life, you have plently of toys, a nice-sized cage, good sketti-flavored kibble, and Fluff-TV. You don't have a hoomin Daddeh or Mummah, but your special friends and babbehs are more than enough to keep you busy.

You are quite smart for a fluffy, or at least that is what your trainers tell you. You know the alphabet, how to count, add and subtract. You haven't met that many other fluffy stallions, so you really can't compare youself with them. You have talked with the fluffy families in the cages on both sides and across from yours.

You also know how to talk to the nice mistahs and ladies that come into the alicorn farm. Your trainers (which is what you the call the nice mistahs who take care of you) want you to talk a certain way to the customers: the nice mistahs and ladies that will be the new daddehs and mummahs for your babbehs. You have to call them "sir" or "madam," you need to try to sell all your babbehs, even if you want them to stay, you can't talk about "bestest babbehs" or even "gud babbehs," you have to say, "wuv aww babbehs da same. You can't even call yourself "fluffy" you need to call yourself by your name: apparently, if you call yourself "fluffy", the customers will think you are lying. The rules are very complicated, but you understand them fairly well.

It is morning, before the farm opens and the customers come in. You wake up all 8 of your special friends, all of which are alicorns, and count your babbehs. You have 24, 21 of which are alicorns, two are pegasi, and one earth pony.

You repeat your morning speech, "Otay, famiwee, wememah ta be gud fwuffies fah da customahs. If babbehs be gud babbehs, den maybe babbehs get nyu daddehs and mummahs. Wet Bwue do da tawkies, onwee tawk ta da customahs if custumah tawks to fwuffy. And wemembah, be happeh, customahs no wike saddie fwuffies." You drag out all the toys into the front of cage, making sure that no-one is hiding. Normally, you don't have an issue, but Peaches, who has just given birth, is hiding her housie. Each of your special friends has their own little housie for themselves and their babbehs.

"Peaches, Bwue say ta go ta da fwont of da cage," you say to the light orange mare with a slightly darker mane and tail.

"NO! Babbehs to wittah! Babbehs need mummah! No wan nice mistahs take babbehs!" she shouts. You bop her on the nose. "OWIES!" she shouts.

"Wead da sign," you say, leading her to the front of the cage. There is a picture of each of your special friends, and below those, are pictures of each of the babbehs. Beside most of your babbehs is a number, varying from 150-700, which the price of your babbehs. Beside your picture, and those of your special friends is an X, signifying that you are not for sale.

"Peaches, wook at pictahs of wittah babbehs. Wittah babbehs no am fah sawe. Customahs no can buy wittah babbehs. Just wook happeh and pwettah, fah da customahs, so customahs buy othah babbehs," you say.

"Speciah fwiend pwomise?"  she asks.

"Speciah fwiend pwomise," you say, as you hug her. She takes her spot with her 3 chirpy foals, and sings her mummah songs.

The first customer of the day is a stallion-hoomin with brown head fluff.

"Hewwo, siw, wan buy babbeh fwuffy? Bwue have severah babbehs that need a nyu daddeh," you ask as he passes your cage, remembering to use big words like "several."

"How many?" he asks, with a smirk.

"Bwue have twenty-foah foaws, siw.. Da thwee wittah foaws, eawth pony, and two pegasi no am fah sawe, so Bwue have... eighteen babbehs," you say.

"You can do math!" exclaims the hoomin.

"Bwue can just add and subtwact, siw," you say.

"Still, that is quite impressive. Ok, then which foal is the best?" he asks.

"Bwue no have bestest babbeh, siw. Bwue wuv aww babbehs da same, siw," you say.

"I mean, which foal is the smartest?" asks the hoomin.

"Siwvah am stiww wittah foal, but can count and add, siw," you say, fetching a gray foal with a dark blue mane.

"Hewwo, siw," says Silver, waving at the hoomin.

"Siwvah be an eight week owd cowt, be weaned, and be wittahbox twained. Siwvah can count ta ovah 100, add, and know da alphabet. Siwvah cost thwee hundwed dollahs," you say.

"Three hundred seems a bit expensive for a gray fluffy," says the hoomin.

"Bwue no set pwices, sir," you say. The hoomin laughs. "Pwease tawk ta a sawes pewson about discounts fah muwtiple puwchases, sir," you say. You don't even know that phrase meant, but your trainers told you to say it whenever a customer mentions fluffies being too expensive.

"We have a buy-one, get another for equal or lesser value for half price offer on all fluffies. We try to sell fluffies in pairs, so that they do not get lonely," says a trainer, standing next to your cage.

"I already have one, and am actually looking for a playmate for him. He is a unicorn, about 6 months old," says the hoomin.

"Is he tolerant of alicorns?" ask the trainer.

"Yes, of course," says the hoomin, "Anyway, Silver, what is 18 plus 35?"

"Uh... thirteen and fourty, so 53, nice mistah, siw," says Silver.

"Quite impressive for an 8 week old. My unicorn can only count to 10, and he's considered smart. Do you do any tricks?" says the hoomin.

"Siwvah can sing a song," you say.

"OK, lets hear it," says the hoomin.

Silver takes a deep breath, and sits up on is hunches, "Mine eyesies have seen da gwory of da coming of da Lahd
He be twampwing out da vintage whewe da gwapes of wath be stowed
He have loosed da fateful wightning of His tewwible swift swowd.
His twuth be mahching on.
Gwory, gwory, hawwewujah. Gwory, gwory, hawwewujah
Gwory, gwory, hawwewujah. His twuth be mahching on.
I have seen Him in da watch-fiwes of a hundwed ciwcwing camps
Dey have buiwded him am awtah in da evening dews and damps
I can wead his wighteous sentence by da dim an' fwawing wamps
His day be mahching on.
Gwory, gwory, hawwewujah. Gwory, gwory, hawwewujah
Gwory, gwory, hawwewujah. His twuth be mahching on."

"Dat as faw as Sivwah knows, siw. But sivwah stiww am babbeh, siw," you say.

"Well, it does go with his color scheme. I'll take him," says the hoomin.

"WUV NYU DADDEH!" shouts Silver, be begins to run over to the edge of cage but you stop him.

"Siwvah, what gud fwuffies do befah weave cage?" you ask.

"Be back in a minute, nyu Daddeh siw," he says, going back to the litterbox.

"Siwvah take potty bweak befow weaving, no wan accidents, siw," you say.

"Sivah done, nice mistah Daddeh siw," he says, running to the edge of the cage. The hoomin picks up Silver, and gives him huggies.

"The price covers vacination. We also do neutering for free if you want it," says the trainer.

"Of course. It's not like he is b-r-e-e-d-i-n-g material anyway," says Silver's new Daddeh.

"You'd be surprised what some basement breeder's try. They act like any alicorn is the holy grail. If you'd tried to sell an alicorn with silver's color scheme but no petigree or training, you'd be lucky to get $20 in store credit," says the Trainer.

"Daddeh siw, wat neutahing?" asks Silver.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Your doing to have to make a little trip to the doctor for some medicine," says Silver's Daddeh.

You know what neutering is, but you don't dare tell your special friends and babbehs what it is. At first, you couldn't believe that hoomins would actually do much a thing. However, your trainers did explain it to you. Not every fluffy can have babbehs. If every fluffy had babbehs, and their babbehs had babbehs, it would create an unholy number of fluffies.

To show you how big it was, your trainers had you add 4 to itself 4 times. Then, add 16 together 4 times, then at 64 together 4 times. When you got to over 1,000, you got the idea. Your trainer said that is a fluffy is neutered while it is still a babbeh, it won't even realize what it has lost, and it is better than wanting babbehs, but never getting any. Silver will have a friend to play with, so he won't be lonely.

The next customer is a lady with white head fluff. She has a pink earth pony fluffy with a purple mane on a lease. Many customers bring their fluffies here.

"Hewwo, madam, wan buy babbeh fwuffy? Bwue have severah babbehs that need nyu mummah," you ask, as she passes your cage.

"Well, aren't you proper," she says.

"Thank, oo, madam," you say. She leans down and picks up the pink earth pony.

"Well, Candy, do you see any foal you want?" asks the lady.

"Candy, wan, wittah chiwpy babbeh!" shouts the fluffy.

"Oh, did she lose a litter?" asks the trainer.

"No, no. She wanted a foal, even though she a fluffy friend at home. I promised her that I would buy her a foal if she could start producing milk. Well, to my surprise, she did it, with no hormones or anything. She is even S-P-A-Y-E-D," says the lady.

"She is alicorn tolerant, right?" asks the trainer.

"Oh course, her "special friend" is an alicorn," says the lady.

"Mummah, fwuffy see wittah babbehs back thewe, wifh owange mummah fwuffy," says Candy, pointing at Peaches.

"Sowwy, madam, but wittah chiwpy babbehs no am fah sawe," you say.

"But fwuffy wan wittah chiwpy babbeh!" says Candy.

"Sorry, Candy, but that is what this sign says. Maybe we can find a newborn foal somewhere else," says the lady.

"But fwuffy wan babbeh ta be awicown wike speciah fwiend," says Candy.

"Well, ma'amm every fluffy here is potentially for sale at the right price. Which one did you want?" asks the trainer.

"Da gween one. Dat wook wike speciah fwiend. Wan babbeh to wook wike speciah fwiend," says Candy.

"Well, that one is, $175," says the trainer.

"That sounds reasonable, I'll take it," says the lady.

"NO! BABBEHS TO WITTAH! BABBEHS NEED MUMMAH, NOT DUMMEH NO-WINGIE NO-POINTY FWUFFY!" shouts Peaches, as she runs with Spruce back to her housie, leaving the other two foals, you start crying. They are picked up by another one of your special friends.

"PEACHES! BE GUD FWUFFY FAH NICE CUSTOMAH!" you shout, chasing after her, "Da nice wady wiww be a gud mummah fow Spwuce."

"NO! MEANIE WADY TAKE WITTAH BABBEH! BABBEH NEED MUMMAH!" she shouts.

"Oh dear, maybe I should get a foal from somewhere else. I don't want to tramatize the poor thing," says the Lady.

"No, no. Its just the post-partum hormones. Some mummahs get like this, she'll be over it in hours. Notice how the father wants you to take the foal. He knows it will have a good home," says the trainer.

You bop Peaches forcifully on the nose. "OWIES!" she shouts as she drops the foal, covering her nose with her hooves. You grap Spruce, who is now crying, by the back of scruff of the neck, and quickly walk toward the trainer.

"GIVE MUMMAH BABBEH! BABBEH TOO WITTAH!" shouts Peaches. You look over your shoulder; Peaches is running toward you. You speed up, the trainer graps Spruce, right before Peaches tackles you. "BWUE WORSTEST SPECIAH FWIEND EVAH! TAKE WITTAH CHIWPY BABBEH FWUM MUMMAH!" she shouts. You two wrestle a bit, and you manage to pin her down.

"PEACHES! Babbeh have nice mummah noa. No be bad, babbeh get nice nyu mummah. Gud fwuffy mummahs and daddehs wan babbehs get nice nyu mummahs and daddehs," you shout.

"Are you sure taking him is a good idea?" asks the Lady.

"Yes, ma'am. The foal is going to be an only child, I assume. So it will get much more attention than here," says the trainer.

"Can mummah have nyu babbeh noa?" asks Candy.

"Well, we probably should make sure that they get along," says the trainer.

"OK," says the Lady, as the trainer hands Spruce to Candy.

"Hewwo, wittah babbeh. Fwuffy am nyu mummah. Wan miwkies?" asks Candy as she sits on her haunches, and places the foal on her teats. The babbeh latches on, and starts drinking. "Ah, babbeh wuv nyu mummah, and mummah wuv nyu babbeh," says Candy.

"NO! DAT PEACHES'S BABBEH! PWEASE BABBEH! WUV MUMMAH, NOT MEANIE POOPIE FWUFFY!" shouts Peaches. You bop her on the nose again.

"PEACHES! BE GUD FWUFFY!" you shout.

"WAN BABBEH! COME BACK TO WEAL MUMMAH BABBEH!" she shouts.

"Our fluffies normally don't act like this. We better leave before she upsets your fluffy. Trust me, the foal is going to have a much better life at your home, rather than staying in a breeding facility," says the trainer, as the Lady picks up Candy. She cradles Candy in her arms, while Spruce continues nursing. Candy mutters various "mummah wuv babbeh, hav wots of miwkies" as she leaves.

"MUMMAH WAN WITTAH BABBEH! TAKE BIG, KIBBAH-NUMMING BABBEHS! NO TAKE WITTAH CHIWPY BABBEH!" shouts Peaches.

Another trainer walks in, carrying a sorry box. The other fluffies go silent, just staring at him. Peaches, however, continues to shout about "WAN WITTAH BABBEH!" She doesn't even see him when he graps her by the scruff on the neck. She tries to bite, but he is wearing a padded glove. "BUT MUMMAH JUST WAN WITTAH BABBEH! WITTAH CHIWPY BABBEHS NO AM FAH SAWE!" she shouts.

"Blue, she is your responsibility, so you are going in the back too. Are you going to be a good fluffy, or will I need another sorrybox?" asks the trainer.

"Bwue be gud fwuffy," you say dejectedly as you stretch out your arms for uppies. You want to plead that you are good fluffy. You didn't do anything wrong. But, you know that won't help you. She is your special friend, and you are responible for her. Still, you did what you were supposed to do. Maybe your punishment won't be that bad. You are both are taken back into the sorry room. You are placed in a sorry cage, and Peaches is dropped out of the sorrybox into the same cage.

"I'm going to give you a minute to calm her down. Calm her down however you want," says the trainer.

"Otay, siw," you say.

"BWUE WIE TA FWUFFY, SAY DAT WITTAH CHIWPY BABBEHS NO AM FAH SAWE! WITTAH BABBEHS NEED MUMMAH..." she says, being cut off by your hardest bop to the nose. Boo-boo juice is steaming down her face. "BIGGEST OWIES!" she shouts. You rear up, she covers down. You place a hoof on her back, right below the neck, and stare deeply into her eyes.

"Dat no am biggest owies. Hoomins gonna give weal biggest owies soon. Peaches am bad dummeh mawe, no wisten to twainahs ow Bwue," you say.

"But fwuffy jus wan wittah chiwpy babbeh back," she pleads. You bop push down with your hoof.

"Hoomins no give bad fwuffies wat fwuffies wan. Bad fwuffies onwee get saddies and owies. Did dummeh Peaches think dat if Peaches be bad, den hoomins wet Peaches keep Spwuce?" you ask.

"But just wan wittah..." she is cut off, as you press down harder.

"Do bad fwuffies get wat wan, ow get saddies and owies?" you ask.

"Bad fwuffies no get wat wan. Bad fwuffies get saddies and owies," she says.

"When twainahs come back, Peaches say dat Peaches am sowwy, and happeh dat babbeh have nyu mummah," you say.

"But Peaches just wan keep wittah babbeh untiw babbeh am big babbeh," she says.

"Peaches am gweedy fwuffy. Wots of fwuffies no even awwowed ta have babbehs at aww," you say.

"Dat no am twue!" she shouts.

"Why dat customah wady buy a babbeh faw Candy? Why Candy no have own babbehs?" you ask. Peaches stares back in confusion. "Cuz Candy's hoomin mummah no wet Candy have own babbehs. Spwuce might be onwee babbeh dat Candy EVAH have," you say. Peaches just stares into space, in shock, apparently not knowing how to respond.

"Well, it looks like Peaches has been a bad fluffy, which also makes Blue a bad fluffy," says a trainer.

"Bwue am sowwy, siw," you say.

"Well, Peaches are you sorry too?" he asks.

"NO! DUMMEH CUSTOMAH NO WET DUMMEH CANDY HAVE BABBEHS! SO CANDY STEAW MUMMAH'S WITTAH BABBEH!" she shouts.

"Peaches, no yeww at nice twainah, pwease be gud fwuffy," you plead.

"NO! MUMMAH WOSE WITTAH BABBEH! DAT WOWSTEST THING EVAH TA HAPPEN TO A FWUFFY! IF HOOMINS BE MEANIE TA MUMMAH, DEN MUMMAH BE MEANIE TA HOOMINS!" she shouts. You turns around to give sorry poopies, but you buck her in the side, knocking her down. She releases her bowels on the floor, covering her tail. "BIGGEST OWIES!" she shouts.

"Bwue am sowwy dat speciah fwiend am bad meanie fwuffy, siw. Twainahs am nice hoomins, give Bwue and famiwee gud housie, and toysies, and wots of gud nummies, and give babbehs nice daddehs and mummahs. Bwue wan teach Peaches ta be gud fwuffy, but Peaches no wisten ta Bwue, siw," you plead.

"Well, Blue, it seems that you are trying to teach her. However, Peaches appears to be quite bad, almost untrainable I would say. We only sell high-quality alicorns here, so we can't keep her or her foals," he says.

"But Siw, babbehs no am bad, onwee Peaches am bad, siw," you plead.

"Yes, I know, but if Peaches is too much of a dummy to be a good fluffy, then her foals will also be untrainable, and we don't want to give our customers bad fluffies, do we?" asks the trainer.

"No, siw," you say. It isn't fair that her babbehs, which are also your babbehs, will have to suffer, but arguing with the trainers never helps.

"I am going to have to sell her to another breeder. This one won't be as nice as here," says the trainer.

"DUMMEH HOOMIN NO AM NICE, AM POOPIE MEANIE!" shouts Peaches. You bop her in the nose again, more boo-boo juice flows out.

"Sowwy, siw, Peaches be bad fwuffy," you say.

"Anyway, before I was interupted, she and her foals are going to another breeder. As for your punishment, Blue, you have tried to be a good fluffy, so I will go easy on you. You will accompany Peaches for a day, to see what other places are like. You appear to realize that you have a good life here, but I think you should see with your own eyes what can happen to bad fluffies. Tomorrow, you will return to your cage with the rest of your family," says the trainer.

"Dat be weasonabah, siw," you say. You don't want to leave your family for a whole day, but, you also wonder what other places are actually like.

"Blue, I will place you back in your cage, to say goodbye to your family, and round up Peaches' foals. You do know which one's are hers?" asks the trainer.

"Yes, siw. Peaches have Ivy, da big yewwow-gween pegasus fiwwy wif a pink mane, Mocha, a big aww-bwown cowt babbeh, Wemondwop, a yewwow fiwwy chiwpy babbeh, and Chewwy, a pink cowt chiwpy babbeh," you say, as the trainer takes you back. He looks at the letters on the side of the cage.

"Well, it looks like your list is correct," he says, as he places in you the cage.

"Siw, wat fwuffy wouwdn't know his own babbehs?" you ask.

"True, but some fluffies aren't smart enough to know not to lie," he says. "OK, Peaches has been a bad fluffy, so she and all her foals are leaving. That would be Ivy, Mocha, and the two newborns, Lemondrop and Cherry. Blue will be going with then for a day, but he will be back, I promise," says the trainer.

"But Ivy no am bad fwuffy, why Ivy need weave?" asks Ivy. You glare at her. She is smart to enough to know that she isn't going anywhere good. But, she should also know that whining is never rewarded.

"Ivy, do gud fwuffies compwain?" you ask.

"No, Daddeh," she says, dejectly.

"Well, I'll let you all say goodbye as I get Peaches ready. Also, make sure the newborns are fed, I don't trust Peaches to watch them unsupervised," says the trainer.

"Daddeh, am babbeh and bwuddas and sistahs going ta a bad pwace?" asks Mocha.

"Bwue no know whewe fwuffies going, but Mocha gonna be wif Mummah and bwuddas and sistahs," you say. Technically, that isn't a lie. However, you do know that Peaches is being punished, so you know you aren't going somewhere good. On the other hand, you don't want to worry Ivy, Mocha, and the rest of your family. Worrying won't change what will happening, and complaining won't make the hoomins any nicer.

You give all your special friends and babbehs huggies, and make sure Lemondrop and Cherry drink plently of milk. You also have Ivy and Mocha go make poopies before leaving. The trainers place you and the babbehs in one crate, you hold Lemondrop, while Ivy holds Cherry. You are placed in a car, beside another crate which is covered by a blanket.

"MUMMAH WAN BABBEHS! GIV MUMMAHS BABBEHS NOA DUMMEH HOOMINS!" you hear.

"Peaches!" you shout.

"Bwue!" she says, "Whewe Bwue!"

"Bwue am in cage beside Peaches wif Ivy, Mocha, and wittah chiwpy babbehs," you say.

"GIVE MUMMAH BABBEHS!" she yells.

"Bwue can no give babbehs. Nice twainahs no wet Peaches have babbehs cuz Peaches am bad fwuffy," you say.

"GIVE MUMMAH BABBEHS, DUMMEH SPECIAH FWIEND!" she shouts.

"Can you shut her up back there?" asks a hoomin, in the seat in front of you. You recongize him as one of your trainers, although you don't see him every often.

"Sowwy siw, but Bwue no can weach Peaches, siw," you say.

"So, if I put you her in box, you could shut her up?" asks the trainer.

"Yes, siw. Bwue can at weast twy, Peaches am bad fwuffy," you say. The hoomin gets out of the car, and opens your cage. You hand Lemondrop to Ivy, and put out your weggies for uppies. He takes you out, and opens Peaches cage.

"Dummeh hoomin wet Peaches out of sowwy box?" she asks.

"No," he says, as he sticks you in with Peaches.

"SPECIAH FWIEND! Whewe babbehs?" she asks. You bop her on the nose, then stare into her eyes.

"Bwue said dat nice twainahs no wet Peaches have babbehs cuz Peaches am bad fwuffy. Noa, be qwiet, ow get owies," you say.

"But speciah fwiend..." she is cut off by another bop on the nose.

"Wat did Bwue say?" you ask, glaring at her.

"Mummah sowwy," she says, as she curls up in a ball in the back of the crate, hu-hu-ing quietly. You don't talk to her for the rest of the trip. You can hear Ivy talking to the babbehs. Peaches says "Wan babbehs" a few times, but you manage to silence her with your stare.

Eventually, the car stops, and the crates are picked up. You are taken inside, and placed on a table.

"OK, now remember, the blue stallion is ours, and we want he back unharmed tomorrow," says the trainer.

"Lets see what we have here," says a no-head-fluff hoomin. "Is this orange one, or the lime one, the mummah?" he asks.

"Mummah am mummah!" shouts Peaches.

"Siw, Peaches, da owange awicown, be da mummah. Da nice twainahs say dat they no twust Peaches wif da babbehs, siw," you say.

"He is quite well trained," says the no-head-fluff hoomin.

"That is nothing. Bwue, what is 365 plus 277?" asks the trainer.

"Five hundwed an one thwity an twelve, six hundwed an thwity and twelve... six hundwed foahty two, siw" you say.

"Its a shame Peaches had to be a brat though," says the trainer.

"MUMMAH NO AM BWAT! JUST WAN BABBEHS!" shouts Peaches. You bop her on the nose again.

"Sowwy, siws," you say.

"See what I mean," says the trainer.

"Well, I better get to sorting this lot," says the no-head-fluff hoomin.

"I'll be back tomorrow for Blue," says the trainer, as he leaves.

"Lets get a good look at you," says the no-head-fluff hoomin, as he picks up Ivy. She quickly hands the chirpy babbehs to Mocha.

"Hewwo, siw, Ivy am gud fwuffy, wisten ta nyu nice twainah," she says.

"Well, common race, bad coloration, and a family history of behavioral problems. Your going to euthanisation pile," he says, as he places her in a cage.

"Fank oo, siw," she says.

The hoomin then picks up Mocha. "Hewwo, siw, babbeh wuv nyu nice twainah mistah," says Mocha.

"Well, at least you are a alicorn, but your color scheme is horrible. It looks like you are going into the euthanisation pile too," says the hoomin.

"Fank oo, nice mistah, siw," says Mocha, as he is placed in the same cage as Ivy.

The hoomin then picks up both the chirpy foals. "You two look like you have decent colors, at least as far as I can tell. You are going to the nursery," he says.

"NO! GIVE BABBEHS TA MUMMAH!" shouts Peaches, before she is silenced with another bop on the nose, as the hoomin exits through a door. Another hoomin takes Ivy and Mocha away.

You glare at Peaches. "How many chiwpy babbehs do oo have noa?" you ask.

"Why meanie hoomins takes babbehs?" she asks. This earns her another bop on the nose.

"Because. Peaches. be. bad. fwuffy," you say. "Do Peaches think dat Bwue wike givin speciah fwiend owies? Ow wan hoomins ta take chiwpy babbehs? Bwue no wan Candy ta have Spwuce. But Bwue no can stop nice hoomins. Being bad fwuffy no get fwuffy wat wan," you say.

"But mummah just wan be gud mummah ta wittah chiwpy babbehs," says Peaches.

"But nyu daddehs and mummahs be gud daddehs and mummahs," you say.

"But wat if nyu daddehs be meanies? How Bwue know dat aww nyu daddehs and mummahs be nice?" you ask.

"Fwuffy know dat gud fwuffies get gud thingies fwum hoomins, an' bad fwuffies get saddies and owies. Bwue am gud fwuffy, and go back to famiwee, but Peaches be bad fwuffy, and wose aww babbehs," you say.

"Babbehs! huuhuuhuu," whines Peaches. You here the door open, the no-head-fluff hoomin has come back.

"Hewwo, again, siw," you say, sitting up on your haunches.

"Now, I guess its your turn. Your old owners say that you tried to bite them," says the hoomin.

"Sowwy, siw, Peaches am bad fwuffy. Bwue give her sevewah nose-bops, but Peaches no wisten, sir," you say.

"Well, that calls for a quadruple amputation. I can't have you biting my employees," says the hoomin.

"Siw, wat be dat?" you ask.

"Oh, you probably have never seen one of those at that fancy farm. Well, I better show you, you are supposed to here for a learning experience, right? Lets go to the surgery room," he says. Be picks up your crate, and graps another metal cage. He walks through a door, and down a hallway, eventually entering another room. He sets the crate down on the floor, and puts you the metal cage.

He looks around, and eventually finds a shelf to put you one. "I normally don't have an audience, but come to think about, that might not be a bad idea. I should see if I can fit some shelving in here," he says.

"OK, the first rule of surgery is safety first, that is why I need to put this apron on, and use these bite proof gloves to restrain her," he says, as he suits up. "The next step is to restain the fluffy," he says, as be picks up Peaches. "As you can see, the subject is not violently resisting, however, she has a history of biting, and could turn on me at any moment," he says, as he lays her stomach down on the table. "For this operation, and really, for almost any operation, we need to strap down the torso, head, and all four legs," he says, as he straps Peaches down.

"WET GO!" she shouts.

"Now, some people would be tempted to flick her in the nose, like how you do a nose bop. However, you should always use a sorry-stick. Nose-bopping runs the risk of a bite. Well, if you were a hoomin, anyway. You can't very well hold a sorry-stick with your hooves,, and you if get bit, you aren't going to file an accident report," says the hoomin, before swating Peaches.

"BIGGEST OWIES!" she shouts.

"Now, if we were intenting to sell her, I'd make sure that I didn't leave any marks. But since she is breeding stock, that doesn't matter," he says, as he swats her again.

"OWIES! FWUFFY BE GUD! PWEASE NO MOAH HEWTIES!" shouts Peaches.

"Notice how she starts begging after a couple hits? However, she will start disobeying again in a few minutes. Any, the next step is free one leg, and dislocate it. When doing a multiple amputation, always work on one limb at a time," he says, as he unstraps her bottom left leg, and gives it a sharp tug.

"PWEASE! FWUFFY BE GUD FWUFFY!" she yells.

"The next step is to cut blood flow to the limb. Cable ties work well for this. Remember, they can never be too tight," he says, as he places something around the top of Peaches's weggie.

"OWIES! TOO TIGHT!" she screams.

"Ideally, the fluffy should be complaining about the cable tie being too tight. If not, it is probably too loose. For the next step, you need to have rubber gloves, and a face shield. Also, it is important to have the liquid bandage ready. You want to minimize blood loss," he says, as he suits up again, and places a bottle on the operating table.

He picks up a pair of pruning shears, and slips them over Peaches' weggie. What is he doing? Is he going to...

*SNIP* He cut her weggie off! Why would anyone do that!? You want to scream, but your jaw just hangs open.

"WEAL BIGGEST-EST OWIES!" shouts Peaches, as the hoomin pinches the stump of her weggie, and puts some sort of liquid over her boo-boo.

"Properly closing the wound is the most important part. Otherwise, the mare may die of blood loss or risk infection," says the hoomin. He looks up at you. "What, have you never seen a legless fluffy before?" he asks.

"No... no siw," you say. "Siw... why... why take Peaches's weggie, siw?" you stutter.

"Because she is a bad fluffy. Good fluffies get good homes, while bad fluffies get punished," he says. "Anyway, after removing the leg, show the severed body part to the fluffy, making sure that she knows that it is. Hey, Peaches, I took your leg."

"WHY TAKE WEGGIE! BWUE! HEWP! NEED WEGGIES TA PWAY WIF BABBEHS!" shouts Peaches.

"Bad fluffies don't get to have legs," says the hoomin.

"PWEASE! BWUE! HEWP MUMMAH!" she shouts, looking up at you.

"He couldn't help you if he wanted to. Besides, he is a good fluffy. Good fluffies know that bad fluffies get punished. Blue, tell your special friend that bad fluffies don't get to have legs," says the hoomin.

"NO! MUMMAH NEED WEGGIES! JUST WAN BE GUD MUMMAH! HOOMINS BE MEANIES!" shouts Peaches.

"Bwue.. am... gud... fwuffy. Peaches be bad fwuffy. BAD FWUFFY AN' BAD MUMMAH! BWUE TEWW PEACHES TA BE GUD FWUFFY! TEWW PEACHES DAT BAD FWUFFIES GET SADDIES AND OWIES! But Peaches no wisten ta Bwue! Noa dummeh Peaches gonna wose weggies. Bwue no cawe. Dummeh Peaches no desewe to have weggies!" you shout.

"PWEASE! PEACHES WUV BWUE!" she shouts.

"BWUE NO WUV PEACHES! BWUE GONNA WEAVE SOON AND NEVAH SEE DUMMEH PEACHES AGAIN!" you shout.

"WAN DIE! WAN DIE! CHHIRRPP!" shouts Peaches.

"Contrary to popular belief, the "wan die" loop is merely a sign of extreme anguish, not necessarily a desire for suicide. Anyway, lets continue," he says. The hoomin continues to repeat the process Peaches' three other weggies.

On some level, this seems cruel to you. However, Peaches has been a bad fluffy, a very bad fluffy. You had to bop her on the nose how many times today? Does she think that bad fluffies get what they want? No fluffy gets everything that they want. No hoomin does either, at least that is what they told you. You didn't want Candy to take Spruce, but you know that your trainers had their reasons. You are a good fluffy, and are generally good to you. You know that they don't make your life miserable for no reason.

Why can't Peaches understand that? Why did she have to a bad fluffy, and worse, keep being a bad fluffy. All she could think about was losing Spruce. Now, she lost Lemondrop and Cherry too, and her legs, and she won't see you again ever. At least, she won't be able to get you in trouble anymore. She wanted to hide her last 2 litters too, but you managed to coax her out, albeit, with a few nose-bops.

"All done," says the hoomin, as he glues the wound on her last weggie shut. "I better go show you where she will be staying. Most fluffies pass out during quadruple amputation surgery. It is best not to wake them until they get back to their cages," he says. He picks up the passed-out Peaches, and then your cage, and takes you back into the hallway to another room. This one smells like poopies, and you can hear several fluffies hu-hu-ing. There is an array of cages on the wall.

"Before I put her in here, I better show you her living conditions," he says, opening your cage. He lifts you up, and puts you in the cage. It is very tiny, too narrow for you to turn around, too low to stand up, and barely long enough for your body to fit in. There are no toys or litterbox, although there is a grate in the back.

"I think her old cage was a bit bigger," he says, laughing.

"Yes, siw. Fwuffy can bawely fit in dis cage. How Peaches' nyu fwiends fit in hewe with Peaches?" you ask.

"We only put one fluffy in a cage. We once tried putting several mares in a cage, but it was too much work to stop them from fighting," he says, as he puts you back down in the metal cage.

"So, sir, Peaches gonna be aww awone fahevah?" you ask.

"Yes, for all intents and purposes," he says.

"But siw, wat if Peaches have babbehs?" you ask.

"Well, we don't let the brood mares, the ones that birth foals, raise them. They need to have foals constantly. The babbehs are raised in the nursery. I might as well show you that next," he says, as he places Peaches in her new home. He takes you through a door. In this room, there is the sound of a fluffy singing the litterbox song. There are several babbehs in cages, apparently sorted by age.

"Do you know what a milkbag is?" he asks.

"No, siw," you say.

"Good, because we don't use those anymore. Instead, we feed all the foals artificial formula, it's much cheaper. We have a few attendant mares who take care of the foals. Once they are weaned, they are shipped out to pet stores. I think your babbehs are in the newborn cage," he says.

You see a row of fake milky places, most of which have a foal feeding. There is a low wall separating each foal. You can hear a fluffy saying, "Mummah wuv babbeh, babbeh am gud babbeh, dwink wots of miwkies," but you don't see one. Its probably hoomin sound magic.

"We don't have an attendant for the newborns, that room has to be kept hot for the newborns, and any adult fluffy in there would be uncomfortable. Since they don't move or talk, they really don't need much interaction," he says.

"So, siw, babbehs no have a mummah no moah?" you ask.

"Well, they will be taken care of by someone until they get an owner. Not having a specfic Mummah keeps the foals unattached, so final adoption is less traumatic. At any rate, life in here is much better than in the brood-mare room," says the hoomin. While the foals don't have a fluffy mummah or daddeh, they do appear to be playing and happy.

"So, siw, if babbehs have no mummah, den babbehs no have saddies when babbehs get nyu daddeh?" you say.

"Right. Well, I better show the stud room," he says, taking you back out into the hallway and into another door. There are several cages, still smaller than your old home, but larger than in the mummah room. All the fluffies in here are stallion alicorns, and are housed 2-3 per cage.

"We keep all our males in here. At you can see, we only keep about a dozen studs at a time, and we keep them in better conditions than the mares. If they aren't kept reasonably happy, they won't preform. That is why he keep 2 or 3 to a cage, if they are alone, they will get depressed, which is worse than dealing with the occassional fight," says the hoomin, looking at his watch. "It seems to be breeding time, I better check the schedule," he says looking a piece of paper.

"We do breeding time every day. Each stallion gets a mare. Sometimes, we don't have enough brood mares that need bred, so we keep of few spayed mares on hand. Peaches isn't pregnant is she?" the hoomin asks.

"Siw, Bwue no give Peaches speciah huggies since Peaches find out dat Peaches have tummeh babbehs," you say.

"Good, I'll have her mate with Blaze. No offense, but I don't know why they would breed a blue stallion to an orange mare," he says, writing something on a list and handing it to another hoomin. "Here, get these mares, Peaches is the new arrival, she should be in cage C-12," he says.

"OK, boss," he says, taking a cart out of the room.

"I'll set your cage up here, you should get a good view of what is happening. I would put you in the cage down there, but these stallions can get a little agressive, and I don't want to send you back injured. The yellow stallion with the red mane is Blaze. His pink cagemate is Magenta," says the hoomin. The two fluffies are playing with a ball, apparently ignoring you.

"OK, breeding time!" shouts the other hoomin, returning with about a dozen small cages. Apparently, those cages can be removed from the self.

The stallions arrupt in cries of "WUV SPECIAH HUGGIES!" and "WAN ENF-ENF-ENF!" The mares remain silent, except for some hu-hu-ing. The hoomins remove each mare and place it in a cage. You see Peaches, being placed in Blaze's cage.

"Hewwo, fwuffy, be nyu fwiend?" she asks. Blaze ignores her, and instead mounts her from behind.

"NO! MUMMAH HAVE SPECIAH FWIEND! ONWEE GIVE SPECIAH HUGGIES TO SPECIAH FWIEND!" she shouts.

"NO TAWKIES DUMMEH MAWE!" shouts Blaze, as he hits her on the back of the head.

"PEACHES NO HAVE NO SPECIAH FWIEND NO MOAH!" you shout. Peaches looks up at you.

"PEACHES SO SOWWY! WAN GO HOME! NO WAN MEANIE SPECIAH HUGGIES! WAN WEGGIES BACK! WAN WEMONDWOP AND CHEWWY BACK! HUU-HUU-HUUU!" she cries.

"BWUE TEWW PEACHES TA BE GUD FWUFFY, BUT PEACHES NO WISTEN! PEACHES GET BWUE AND IVY AND MOCHA AND EVEN WITTAH CHIWPY BABBEHS IN TWOUBAH TOO! PEACHES AM DUMMEH POOPIE FWUFFY!" you shout.

"PWEASE SAVE PEACHES, SPECIAH FWIEND!" she shouts.

"BWUE NO AM PEACHES SPECIAH FWIEND NO MOAH!" you say, turning her back. You are half tempted be blow her a raspberry, and if you tried, you might even be able to hit her with sorry-poopies. But, you are a good fluffy, and good fluffies don't do those things, even to bad fluffies.

Still, the meanie enf-ing does make you uncomfortable. You look away, covering your ears, and think about your the rest of your family back home, your 7 good special friends and 18 remaining babbehs.

After a while, the hoomin announces that breeding time is over, and it is now euthanisation time. You have no idea what that means. All the stallions and the attendant mares are taken into the mare-room. The hoomin sits your cage on top of the mare cages. You see the no-head-fluff hoomin take Ivy and Mocha out.

"ATTENTION!" shouts the no-head-fluff hoomin, "These two fluffies have been bad fluffies, and are going to get forever sleepies," he says.

"But siw, what babbehs do?" you should, reflexively, covering your mouth with your hooves.

"OK, well, technically, they didn't do anything bad, but their mummah did. So, they have to die," says the hoomin.

"NO HEWT BABBEHS! GIVE MUMMAH OWIES!" shouts Peaches.

"No, I think you want death. But mainly, you are still of use to me as a brood mare. These two babbehs are ugly, and aren't worth selling," says the no-fwuff hoomin.

"But, siw, Mocha cost two hundwed dollahs at old pwace," you say.

"Really? Do they actually sell poorly colored foals for that price," he asks.

"Yes, siw, today, Siwvah, who be gray, seww fah thwee hundwed dollahs, and Spwuce, a gween chiwpy babbeh, seww fah one hundwed and seventy five dollahs," you say.

"Pwease, siw, Ivy and Mocha am gud fwuffies, wisten ta twainahs, be gud fwuffies fah nyu daddehs," pleads Ivy.

"Pwease, siw, give Daddeh owies," you say.

"Bwue, you know I can't do that, and Peaches had been a bad fluffy. But, Blue and you two have been good fluffies. So, what if I let you go?" asks the no-fluff hoomin.

"Wat nice twianah mean, siw?" asks Ivy.

"I will let you go outside, and whatever happens happens," says the hoomin.

"Ivy no wan go outside, but bettah den fahevah sweepies, so Ivy pick go outside. Fank oo siw," she says.

"Bye-bye, Daddeh and Mummah," says Mocha and Ivy as they wave.

"Bye-bye babbehs," you say, waving back.

"NO, WAN WASTEST BABBEHS! NO WEAVE MUMMAH!" shouts Peaches, as another hoomin hits her cage door.

The no-fluff hoomin takes you back into the first room that you saw. "You have a litterbox, water, and food, so you should be OK," he says.

"Yes, siw. Siw, am babbehs gonna be Otay?" you ask.

"Ivy might join a feral herd, and she might get adopted, if she is smart enough to flaunt her training. Mocha, on the other hand, will probably he attacked for being a 'monster fluffy.' Most fluffies are afraid of alicorns, and will probably attack him on sight," says the no-fluff hoomin.

"So, siw, dat why twainahs ask if othah fwuffies wike awicowns," you say.

"Well, Good night, someone should be here to take you back to your home tomorrow morning.

"Nite-nite siw," you say, as he leaves the room and turns off the light.

You have learned much here. Life for bad fluffies is even worse than you can imagine. This will definately scare your other special friends straight. Still, you wonder if all the fluffies here are bad fluffies...

Of course they are. You have been a good fluffy, and you were rewarded. Peaches was bad and she was punished, along with her babbehs. Mocha is probably dead by now, through no fault of his own. Hoomins don't cut of the weggies of fluffies just because they like to give owies. Every mare, and stallion in there was obviously a bad fluffy, a very bad fluffy. The babbehs lived in relatively good conditions, and are going to get nyu daddehs and mummahs. True, your babbehs have a better life, but the babbehs there have all their weggies and do seem happy. While this was a useful learning experience, you can't wait to get back to your family.