>you are Joey
>its been a few days since Rick used the lemon on Grimace and made Agua eat his shit
>now you’re nursing his newest victim
>Hans was trying to make a fluffy version of Colgate but the stallion refused to cooperate
>Hans went to the limit of his disciplinary skills which was the “sorry stick” but the fluffy was stubborn
>you told Hans to go to you first with any fluffy problems but you were sadly in town getting lunch with Hailey
>so with no other options he turned to Rick
>all the pregnant dams and mares with foals in the breeding rooms began to whimper and hide their foals behind them when Rick entered
>he offered the stallion one warning but it still blew a raspberry at him
>Rick being a master of fluffy torture went out to his van and retrieved four flat head thumb tacks
>he found a soft skin part on each hoof and pushed the thumb tack in
>to a human it would hurt but only enough to make us say ow, by fluffy standards its like nails in our feet
>the fluffy shrieked in pain but the worst came when he placed it on the floor
>it hopped around from hoof to hoof throughout the breeding room and the whole pen room shrieking “why hoofsies owies? Why hoofsies huwt fwuffy?! Pwease hoofsies, fwuffy sowwy!”
>Rick removed the tacks only after the fluffy promised to mate the mare

>you now sit with the injured fluffy whimpering in your lap with its hooves in the air
>you apply small amounts of disinfectant and then a band aid to each area
>you stroke his mane for a bit then ask if he’s feeling better
>he nods and you give him a hug then return him to his pen
>the door opens and you see your boss Mark standing there
>”Rick do something?” he ask
“yeah, nothing I couldn’t handle”
>”well good, no need for broken tools” he says
“why do you let Rick do this?
>”Rick doesn’t kill them Joey, not here at least, I’d fire him in a second if he killed one of our handpicked breeders or a customer’s order. But these things need discipline, otherwise I have no use for them.”
>Mark doesn’t hate fluffies, but he doesn’t like them either.
>he started this business all on his own, says he bought the building for just a $100 from the landowner and spent only $150 more setting up the facility
>now he makes a pretty lucrative living off of special orders and pretty, well behaved fluffies
>Mark ran the place by himself for 2 years until he hired you and Rick on the same day
>you didn’t like Rick then either

>now Mark sits in his office taking care of paper work and training the special orders
>”speaking of which have you seen Rick?” he asks
“he stepped out for a smoke”
>”ah alright, talk to ya later Joey” he says closing the door
>you and hailey care about the guys, Hans is like Mark and is just in it for the money
>Though Hans actually does take a lot of pride in his breeding, and he is amazing at it
>you really cant wait to see how this cutie mark crusaders order turns out
>Hans is also a brony, he monitors all pony boards to see of any new developments
>the thing that really makes the business is when people want a fluffy of their “OC pony”
>Mark charges them $100 for an OC and his usual extra $50 for potty and manners training, also $20 if they want his patented “My First Fluffy” kit
>Hans then looks at a picture of their OC the gets to work, surprisingly he is 95% of the time successful, its incredible how he does it
>he often helps Rick with rounding up strays to see if their fit for breeding
>which is probably why Mark was looking for him

>you are Rick
>smoking a cig wishing your job didn’t suck while Hans crouches next to you on his phone listening to music
>you hear the front door opens and you see Mark step out
>”hey Rick, got a call of a herd downtown. You and Hans head down and take care of it”
“You got it Rick”
>You finish your cig and tap Hans on the shoulder and head for your van
>you arrive at the spot where you got the call, and old run down factory
>this palce is rarely used so you don’t know why the city called it in and but don’t care, its fluffy time
>you go to the last known location and follow the scattered turds from there
>you cant drive any further and cant leave the van behind so you return to the street and drive looking down the alleys
>Hans pats you on the shoulder and you see them, chewing on some grass growing up through the sidewalk between two building

>roughly twenty of them
>you back the van up to the front of the alley and you and Hans hop out
>you only need 4 things, 2 fences and two boxes
>the fences are those “kid fences” that parents put in doorways to keep their babies or toddlers from getting out of a room
>you bought a whole lot more and connected them so they could stretch across an alley
>Hans grabs on and takes off for the other side of the alley
>the fluffies noticed the van backing up but instead of running they formed their typicals barrier to protect their mares and foals
>Hans leaps the herd and sets up the barrier behind them while you set yours up just behind the van
>now to find the…
>”Go ‘way munstas! Dis smawty’s hewd!”
>Found him, a purple unicorn with a pink mane
>you look behind Hans and see an open dumpster
“Hey Hans, what’s in that dumpster?”
>Hans takes a quick jog back to the dumpster and replies “broken glass”
>perfect
>in you van of fluffy hell you take out a bottle of lemon juice and one of those giant salt container things (fuck I don’t know their name, the Morton salt things)
“Hey Hans, do me a favor and pour these in there”
>you toss the two items and he looks at them, gives a “yikes!” look and does as you asked
>he dashes back over and returns them to you

>”smawty gif biggest ouchies if munstas no- AHH!!” he shrieks as you pick him up by his horn
>you hold him like a football (‘merican style) and judge the distance
>50 yards maybe, not hard, you weren’t starting quarterback 2 years in a row for nothing
>”pwease no huwt fwuffy! Fwuffy sowwy! Be gud! Pwease no EEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!” he cries as he flies through the air
>he soars until he hits the lid propped against the wall with an “ouchies” then falls into the bin
>after about 3 seconds you hear glass shifting as the smarty thrashes around screaming “OWWIES! HUWTIES! BAD HUWTIES! SMAWTY SOWWY! PWEASE SAVE SMAWTY! AHHHH!!!!!”
>eventually the lid falls down on the bin and his creams become muffled
>his whole herd is in shock, shaking and whimpering/murmuring with fright
“Anyone else wanna join him?”
>they turn to you with fear in their eyes
“I didn’t think so, Hans you’re up”
>you pick up the first fluffy and hand it to Hans
>he does his regular check, first comes colors, are they attractive, bright, catchy, do they bear any resemblance to any MLP ponies?
>if they pass appeal then comes health: eyes, teeth, fluff, age, injuries, diseases
>the ones who pass goes in Mark’s box, rejects go in your box
>the first one is lucky, and goes in your box
>”Color scheme is unattractive and she’s missing her two front teeth” is Hans diagnosis, handing the fluffy to you, which you quickly drop in your box

>Hans picks up another fluffy, who lets out and “owwies!”
>these things are pussies but that was a yelp of physical pain
>Hans puts it down and watches it return to the herd
>an obvious limp in its back right foot
>Hans picks it back up resulting in another “owwies!” as he begins to feel the fluffys back-right side
>”Feels like two broken lower ribs and upper right leg break as well. While the mane is a good shade of shamrock I see no use for this one” he says handing it to you
>you drop it in your box with an audible crack, followed by the biggest OWWIES yet
>Hans then picks up a mare, bright pink with a dark blue mane
>he checks her health and she passes
>another step with mares is you have no clue if they’ve been knocked up recently or not, since they don’t begin to show for at least a week and a ½ -2 weeks
>from his bag he takes out a fluffy pregnancy test from Hasbio called “fiwst wesponse” smart ass bastards
>Hans holds the mare by her stomach region and the test under her, giving her a gentle squeeze and an “ouchies” from her the mare begins to pee
>after 20 seconds the result is in “she’s bred” he says
>Hans stares at her for almost half a minute rubbing his chin until he says “she’s in good health and has a good color scheme, at least one of her foals will be worth something”
>he hands you the fluffy and you gently put her in Mark’s box

>you hear a something that catches your attention
>not a fluffy noise but almost a jingle
>its coming from a light blue fluffy with a mint green mane
>she cowers as you reach for her
>you gently scoop her up and brush her neck fluff away
>sure enough a bell collar, with a number on it, to a ms. Pam Iverson
“hey Hans, keep going we got an escapee here”
>you can tell because most abandoners take the collar off, so no one can return it to them
>you call the number and her a woman’s voice on the other end “hello?”
“Ms. Iverson? This is Rick Sampson, I work for the Fluff Shack breeding company. I have her a fluffy with a collar with your name and number on it”
>”oh thank God, you found Minty! Oh thank you so much, where are you? Should I meet you somewhere?”
“That’s not necessary ma’am your address is on the collar, we’ll stop by in about 30 minutes and drop her off”
>”thank you so much! Thank you!”
“Its no trouble miss, we’ll be there soon”
>you hang up and reach into your lunchbox
>you pull out a cookie and place in in front of minty in the back of your van
“stay still, and you don’t get hurt”

>after 20 minutes only 7 of about 20 fluffies passed the test
>13 whimpering fluffies sit in your bin, unaware of their soon to be fate
>you drive to Minty’s owners home to drop her off
>the woman, about your average fresh out of college babe, is overjoyed at her return
>you refuse a reward and go on your way, its good for PR
>you stop by your apartment complex before you go back
>and by your apartment complex it really is YOUR apartment complex
>you own the whole building expect no one besides you lives there, you and about 50 fluffies
>a building that could hold about 6 people has been completely cleared except your bedroom
>all other room hold cages that hold fluffies
>you walk upstairs with your box of rejects to the main room
>a room with about a 15 foot ceiling and is about the size of a boxing ring
>with a 10 foot high octagon in the middle
>you pour your bin of rejects into a cage and walk back to the van
>you cant wait for tonights fluffy matches with the guys