author:differential_Sloth buried_alive explicit extermination fluffies-burn foal-dies foals-die headcannon kill'em_all


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The Cull

By differential_Sloth


Fluffies were released into the world in late 2019, when the PETA splinter group Tea-tree raided the two key Hasbio labs in Vermont and Kentucky. Public knowledge of the creatures began with wild forum posts and video of tiny talking horses who emerged from the woods begging for food. Next were local news stations, who's bewildered field reporters struggled to make sense of the babbling creatures at their feet. Not long after, cable news picked up the story and it went global.

The following months were a blur. Hasbio executives destroyed as much evidence as possible, then fled the country with as much wealth as they could grab. They left a leaderless army of middlemen to front the press, Congress, and even less amicable audiences. Hasbro cut all ties with the subsidiary, quietly terminated everyone tied to the project, and forced them to sign ferocious NDAs. Investigative reporters and amateur sleuths alike pried what details they could from the wreckage for their magnum opus book, or 30 minute YouTube documentary.

In the background of this drama, fluffies tried to make their way in the world. Many of the naive creatures fell victim to dozens of threats, both natural and man-made as they stumbled around the wild. If not for those who took them in out of pity, or the chance to get rich where Hasbro and Hasbio failed, they might have died out in a few months. But for better or worse, fluffies were saved from extinction.

About two months after the raids, the first fluffy breeders opened shop. A generation of backyard and garage breeders fought to make their fortune out of the technicolour creatures. In time, their struggle would give birth to the hellish foal mills, were misery was by design rather than ignorance and inexperience. Meanwhile, in remote parts of the American wilderness, scattered survivors of the original releases managed to band together. Bolstered by strays, runaways and dumped stock from bankrupt breeders, the first feral herds were born. Many didn’t last, but it only took a few.

The ferals smart or lucky enough to live more than a few weeks in the wild learnt how to survive. They discovered how to find food, water and shelter. They learnt how to hide from danger, and how to fight on the rare occasion it was a good idea. Over time feral herds grew in size and number, and eventually started to expand their territory. From the Appalachian mountains, feral herds moved east to the coastal planes and into the vast space and farmland of the Midwest.

While an annoyance at first their numbers steadily multiplied, and with it the threat they posed. By 2021, an estimated 10 to 20 million feral fluffies inhabited the area between the Midwest and Atlantic sea. Small towns were frequently invaded by herds who sought a better life. Abandoned and sparsely populated regions became hotbeds of fluffy activity; one defunct Kentucky factory was estimated to house nearly 7,000 fluffies at any one time.

In the countryside, herds made their presence known by wreaking havoc on farmlands. Small scale growers often woke to find their crops picked clean, while larger operations had to deal with the constant presence of herds in and around their fields. Reports show it was a very profitable time for companies who repaired and maintained combine harvesters.

In June 2021, the National fluffy control act was passed with near unanimous support. Among the measures laid out was all herds within 15 miles of urban centres, farms and other vulnerable areas were to be destroyed. It was by no means revolutionary, and served more to formalise and coordinate culls and extermination activities already underway across the affected areas.

Late June 2021, Northern Texas

Even though the sun hadn’t risen, the tractor shed was a hive of activity; nearly three dozen men were hard at work, and at first glance one might think they were preparing for war. Some worked in pairs to load magazines, others loaded trucks with supplies. A group of three attached and wired up a pair of speakers to a steel scaffold to the back of their pick-up. All the while, a tall man in his late 40s strode through the prep area to see how things were. He was running this little show, and wanted it to start on time.

The man walked up to a table, one of a few where magazines being loaded. ‘How we doin here boys?’

‘Good so far Pav,' another middle-aged man said as he put a loaded magazine into a box. ‘We’ll have the rest of these ready up in time.’

‘Good man Dylan.’ Pavel patted Dylan on the back and looked at the tables around them. ‘You fellas have been busy,’ he remarked at the dozens upon dozens of loaded magazines.

‘Wouldn't want to run out would we?’ One of Pavel's friend's said.

‘Nope,’ someone else said.

‘How many do think are out there anyway?’ Dylan asked.

‘No idea,’ Pavel and his brother Peter, like many, started to encounter herds on their land about a year ago. The problem was manageable at first, and they’d gotten a lot of fun out of shooting the colourful little bastards. However, it didn’t take long for them to get deep into the fields. In the relative safety of the crops, the fluffies multiplied and did significant damage. Unable to control them on their own anymore, the brothers called in every friend and favour they had to clear the herds out for good.

Pavel moved on from Dylan's table but stopped at another. There a young man, Pavel nephew in fact, loaded magazines like many others, but with a difference.

‘Didn’t you get the memo?’ Pavel said as the young man slotted another .308 round into the mag. ‘We’re not going on a hog hunt.’

‘Come on Uncle Pavel,' Dimitri said, ‘You know I don't like poodle shooters.' A roar came up from the others.

‘Alright boys, save it for the BBQ; I want you ready by dawn.' The men went back to work, and Pavel walked to a large table where his brother was. ‘How's the plan? Any changes?’

‘No, same as before.' Peter said. ‘We drive them down the field into the trenches and as many on the way down as we can, and the sweepers torch the dens and kill any we miss.’

Pavel nodded. ‘How about our time estimate?’

Peter shrugged; ‘If everything goes to plan we should get it all done today, but we’ll just see. Are the boys ready to go?’

‘Should be soon.’ Pavel looked back at the prep area.

‘What are Chester and his friends doing?’ Peter pointed at the young men by the pick-up with the scaffold and speakers.

‘Little project of theirs,' Pavel said. ‘They're gonna blast music from those speakers to flush these bastards out.'

‘Good a plan as any,’ Peter said. ‘So long as they get it ready in time.’

Pavel nodded ‘They will. Anyway, we know anything new about the herds in field five?’


The first light of dawn peeked over the horizon and bathed the land in soft yellow, orange light. Deep in the crops, far from the buzz of human activity, many hundreds of feral fluffies woke up. From dens dug into the fertile soil, adult and juvenile fluffies emerged and walked to the communal latrines to relieve themselves. Soon after came the incessant chirps and peeps of hungry foals, and the sound of their mothers attending to their needs. Activity picked up the further the sun rose. More fluffies emerged from the dens, followed by foals of many ages.


‘Babbeh cachew fwend!’

‘Newa get babbeh! Am tuu fas!!’

The foals ran, stumbled and giggled madly; their games took them to all corners of the Herd’s home, its borders roughly defined by where the crops thickened. At all times their parents kept a close eye on the foals and made sure they stayed close. The herd, like many, learnt from experience birds of prey and other predators wouldn't try to grab foals when multiple adults were nearby. Despite their efforts, there were always some juveniles too adventurous for their own good.

While the young fluffies played, stallions fanned out to gather food; they were joined by mares who were unattached or widowed. Most, however, stayed and tended to the home front. Some cared for the youngest foals, either their own or those of other mares. Others looked after dams or stayed above to supervise the young fluffies while they played.


Soon after the desperate call came from the den, three other mares dashed inside to help while another ran out to the fields to find the dam’s mate. This and a dozen other daily routines were overseen by the herd’s Smarty and his toughies; they patrolled their territory ready to mete out discipline and protect their home from danger.

‘Gun getchu soon Speciaw-fwend!’ A young powder blue pegasus chased his soon to be mate, a light purple and salmon pegasus, through the crop field.

‘Hehe, nu can! Fwuffy am tuu fast!!’ The young mare darted around the stalks and kept just ahead of the blue stallion. He was determined though; gradually, he closed the gap.

‘Fwuffy cwosah nao! Gun getchu!!' The pair giggled madly as the chase continued, unaware of how far from their home they'd gone. The stallion didn't worry though, all he cared about was catching the mare. He put everything he had into the chase. Hooves pounded against the ground, nostrils flared, and his lungs started to burn; but he was so close!

‘Hehehehehe!!!' The purple mare giggled wildly as the stallion caught up. They were so focused on the chase, they didn't notice they were close to the edge of the field.

‘Ngahh!!' The stallion leapt at the mare and tackled her; the young fluffies rolled and squealed in surprise and excitement then came to rest just shy of the crop line.

‘*Haff* Nu faiw!’ The mare protested. ‘Nu am sposed tu du dat!’

‘*Haff haff* Fwuffy *Haff* stiww getchu soon Speciaw *Haff* fwend.’

The mare giggled, despite her annoyance, and hugged the stallion.

‘You hear that?’

The fluffies looked up; through the crops, they could see strange shapes. Pushed on by curiosity and the adventurous nature of pegasi, they walked out of the field to investigate; there stood three men around a truck. Being young, the fluffies didn’t have the experience to know these things were to be feared, and the smart course of action was to run back and warn the herd. One of the men stepped away from the truck and walked toward the fluffies. On instinct the young mare walked over too; she met the man roughly halfway between the pick-up and the crop line.

‘Hewwo nice Mistah, fwuffy name am Fwuffy!' The mare sat on her haunches and looked at the man. ‘Du nice Mistah wan be fwends an pway? Huggie tag am bestest game ewa!' When she got no answer, ‘Du nice Mistah have saddies? Fwuffy can giv huggies an make bettah!'

The stallion watched from a distance, still winded from the chase. Something about the man unnerved him, but he couldn't put words to the feeling. If the stallion was older, he would have taken it as a sign to flee. Instead, he got up and went to join the mare. As he made his way over, the human moved a hand to his belt holster. The stallion watched as the human pointed the strange thing at-


The sound seemed to fill the entire world; the stallion froze, ears ringing and bladder voiding. It took him a few moments to realise his mate was on the ground, and a bloody red mess was where her head should have been! The young fluffy stared in dumbfounded terror; ‘S…so-oon Sp… Spec-


The hollow-point bullet shattered the stallion's skull and blew liquefied brains in all directions. He fell to the ground dead; limbs twitched, and his destroyed head leaked blood and brain matter.

‘Nice shot,’ Chester said.

‘Which one?' Dale walked back to his friends.

‘The blue one stupid. Even Johnny can hit something right in front of him, even if it’s his own foot.’

‘Shut up,' Johnny tried to focus on wiring up the speakers, and force the memory of his youthful misadventure from his mind. Sure it had only been a 22, but Johnny had a limp ever since; damn Jason and his homemade cut-

‘We heard shots; what’s goin’ on down there?’

Chester picked up the hand unit; ‘Just a couple of fluffies made the mistake of coming out of the crops. That a problem?’

‘Well if we heard it, they heard it,’ Peter said. ‘Hope you boys are ready to go; gonna have to kick this off a bit earlier than we wanted.’

‘You sure?’

‘These bastards have been chewing through Pavel's crops for months,' Peter said. ‘If we let them get away, boy I tell you, I'd rather spit in my drill Sargent's face.'

‘Got it,’ Chester put down the hand unit. ‘All set Johnny?’

Johnny clambered in through the back window with an aux cord in hand; ‘Sure am,’ he plugged the cable into his phone, and the speakers thumped loudly.

‘Ooooh boy.’ Dale climbed into the back, ‘these are gonna loud aren’t they?’

‘We want em loud,’ Chester said. ‘Even your big mouth can’t scare a whole herd. Anyway, you sure you want to be back there with them?’

‘I’ll be fine.’ Dale slotted a magazine into his rifle. ‘Got my plugs and muffs on.’ he yelled.

‘Suit yourself!’ Chester closed the back window. ‘Ready to roll?’ He asked Johnny.

‘Yep.' He flipped through his music app to the playlist made especially for the day.

‘Don’t hit play till we’re rolling,’

‘I know I know,’ Johnny said. ‘I’m not stupid.’

Chester was about to bring up the incident with the rifle and Johnny's foot, when Peter’s voice came over the radio; ‘Let’s roll boys!’ Chester put his truck into gear and drove into the crop field; the Dodge pushed over the stalks. Chester couldn’t help but cringe at the damage, but there was no other way. Besides, what was this after what these fluffy bastards had done?

‘Say when.’ Johnny said.

Chester nodded and kept his attention forward. Meanwhile, back at the herd's safe place the distant gunshots brought activities to a screeching halt; concerned fluffies tried to figure out what the noises were, and what they meant. As they discussed what they'd heard, a low rumble in the distance came to their attention. It didn’t concern the fluffies at first, similar sounds were common. Except this time, the sounds came closer.

‘Wat am dat? Speciaw-fwend, wat am dat?’


‘Peep peep! Mummah, babbeh hav scawdies!!’

‘Hewd wisten tu Smawty!’ The leader moved to get a handle on the situation; ‘Get aww dah babbehs an wittwe fwuffies in dah dens. Big nummie findahs cum wif Smawty an toughies; odas stay with mawes an babbehs!’ He turned to face the noise; ‘Hewd gun beat dummeh munstahs!’ The toughies and larger stallions assembled behind the Smarty and advanced toward the noise.

‘Get weady!’ The Smarty ordered. ‘Nu wet dummeh munstahs get tu-

"TWISTING THE STRANGLE GRIP WON'T GIVE NO MERCY!" The booming voice drowned out the Smarty. "FEELING THOSE TENDONS RIP TORN UP AND MEAN!" Every fluffy in the ad-hoc army flinched; many screamed and dropped to their bellies. Before the Smarty and his toughies could rally them, deafeningly loud metal boomed out over the field. It drove most of the stallions into full-blown panic.

‘BACK TU SAFE PWACE!!’ The Smarty yelled. ‘SABE HEWD!!’ But none of the others could hear him over the music. The stallions charged back to the safe place to find their families and flee, though some were so scared they ran straight past and further into the field. The safe-place itself was in pandemonium; mares desperately tried to gather their foals, but the task was made nearly impossible. The young fluffies scurried about in blind terror, and many ran off alone.

Dozens of mares were faced with a heartbreaking choice; run and save the foals they had, or take time to chase down the rest while an unknown terror bore down on them. Unfortunately for the mares, their task was made harder by the terrified stallions when they galloped past. Some stopped to help, but others ran on; many unfortunate foals were trampled under hoof, sometimes by their own fathers. Then, the first adult shrieked and fell to the ground.

Dale scanned the field ahead; this close to the herd’s home the crops were thinner, and the contrast between the surrounds and the fluffies made it quite easy to pick out targets. He lined up on a patch of colour and squeezed off a round. The bullet slammed into the side of a mare searching for her foals. The expanding hunk of lead and copper shredded the fluffy’s heart and dropped her like a rock.

‘Squeeep!!’ Her foals, barely 2 weeks old, spilt on the ground. They gathered themselves and stumbled to their dead mother's aid. ‘Mummah! Mummah nu go sweepies!!'

‘Mummah!! Sabe babbehs fwom woud munstahs!! Peeep!!’

Around them fluffies of all ages ran past; one careless individual leapt over the dead mare and landed on one of the foals, crushing his lower half.

‘SQUEEEEEEE!!!’ The foal squealed in bug-eyed agony.

‘BWUDDA!!’ The colt’s sister rushed over and hugged him, but it was no use. The colt squealed in pain and terror until more hooves killed both of them. By now Chester’s truck was upon the safe place; most of the herd got away, but dozens of foals were left behind. Those who could walk stumbled after their parents, but younger ones were helpless.

‘Mummah! Peep! Mummah sabe babbeh!!’

‘Peep peep peep peeep!’

Foals who’d recently opened their eyes but not able to walk desperately called for rescue. In one den, a dozen and a half foals only days old lay in a communal nanny nest; two attendant mares who hadn’t fled tried in vain to keep them calm. In another, the mare who had given birth earlier huddled with her terrified brood.

‘Speciaw-fwend! Speciaw fweeend!!!’ She cried. ‘Speciaw whewe am yu!? Sabe babbehs!!!’

Outside, Chester drove over the safe place; the pick-up lurched to one side as it’s weight collapsed an empty den. The truck rolled on after the herd and left the stragglers behind. It disappeared into the crop field and took the loud music with it.

‘Peep peep peep!’


‘Sh-shh, i-id am otay b-babbehs,’ the newest mother said. ‘M-munstahs am gone nao. Mummah an babbehs am-




The mare stiffened at the noises. Outside, one of the sweepers flooded the nanny den with fire. The attendants and foals screamed in agony as the propane flame scorched the fluff from their skin, and the flesh off their bones. Bradly killed the torch and stepped away from the den. ‘Nothing like a bit of barbeque.'

‘I hear that,’ *BANG-CRACK* The second man, Franklin, shot foal with his Ruger 22. While he hunted for more foals, Bradly walked to the next den; he put the nozzle of his heavily modified weed torch in the entrance and pulled the trigger.


A long tongue of fire shot into the den, but there were no screams of agony like the first. Bradly stepped to the next den and repeated the process, over and over. In her den, the terrified new mother listened to the sounds outside; unable to flee with her foals, all she could do was hunker down and wait for the danger to-


‘SCREEEEEEEEE!’ Blinding white hot pain filled her world. The mare’s foals screamed with her as they were roasted alive. On instinct, the mare tried to shield her foals from the flames, but they were everywhere. She inhaled, which took the flames and hot gases into her lungs and destroyed the tissue on contact. It took less than ten seconds for mare and her foals to die, but each moment was pure agony.


Further down the line of pick-ups, Dimitri rested his M-14 on the truck’s padded roll bar and lined up on a fluffy; this part of the field was badly eaten out, which gave a clearer view of the targets. Dimitri steadied the rifle, moved his finger to the trigger and sq-

‘Ahh!’ The truck suddenly pitched under him; the movement threw off his aim, and only luck stopped him from firing the gun. Righting himself, Dimitri smacked the roof. ‘Slow down dammit!’

‘I’m trying to catch these fucking things!’ His little brother Alex, short for Alexei, protested.

‘You don’t need to catch them!’ Dimitri brought his rifle back up, found a new target, and squeezed off a round.


The round flew straight and true, entered the fluffy’s back and passed out his chest. Everything in its path was pulverised. ‘They can’t outrun a bullet. Now slow down and let me shoot!’

Alex grudgingly slowed the truck; with a steady platform, or at least steadier, Dimitri got more shots off. A few missed, most didn’t. He took down what could have been a yellow fluffy with his last shot, dropped the mag and went for a fresh one.

*BANG-CRACK. Ca-chunk. BANG-CRACK. Ca-chunk. BANG-CRACK. Ca-chunk.*

Beside him, Steve shot at the fluffies with his goofy fucking AR, a straight pull or whatever it was called; it never failed to make Dimitri shake his head. He can have all the semi auto rifles he wants, and he buys that gimped thing? Dimitri slammed the new mag into his rifle and retook aim.







Terrified fluffies ran from Chester's truck as fast as their legs would take them. The Smarty and his toughies didn't try to organise or even help their herd mates; they operated on pure "every man for himself" survival instinct. Fluffies barely noticed when another was struck down by a bullet, even if it was a mare with foals.


‘Peeep!! Hewp! Sabe babbeh!!' One cried. ‘Sabe ba-huwek!!' An errant hoof crushed the filly's midsection, and she was left to suffocate in pain. Behind the fleeing herd, Dale squeezed off round after round; not used to shooting from the back of a truck, his accuracy suffered. Still, he bagged a fair amount. Up ahead, he could see the edge of the crop field and mounds of dirt. It wouldn't be long until the little bastards’ fate was sealed.

‘Peep peep! Mummah!!’ A foal gripped her mother’s back with all her strength; ‘Sabe babbeh!! Wun way wun way!!’

The mare didn’t respond; every bit of her energy and focus went to escaping with her filly, her last foal. In the rush to flee the herd’s home, she was forced to leave some of her litter behind. During the flight through the field, one of her colts was knocked from the mare’s back by a crop stalk.


‘Bwudda!!’ The colt’s brother leapt to his aid without thinking, only to land awkwardly and break his back. ‘Screeeeee! Wowstest owwies!! Mummah! Muuumaaahh!!!’ But his mother didn't return, or even hear him. The colt was left to writhe on the ground, crying and peeping in agony until Bradly and Franklin caught up. As for the mare, she ran on; her lungs burned and legs throbbed, but nothing would stop her. All the mare had to do was run! If she kept ahead of the monster and got out of its sight-

‘Screeeee!’ She’d heard plenty of screams, but this one was different; it came from in front of her!


‘Eeee! Hewp!’


More screams came from up ahead, but before the mare could figure out what they meant, she emerged from the crop field and saw massive hole in the ground. A group of four fluffies plus their young disappeared into it.


‘Peep peeeee!!’

The mare skidded to a halt in front of the trench, which to her looked like a massive abyss. At the bottom, the first fluffies who fell in lay broken and bloody; bones stuck out of broken limbs, bodies were twisted, and necks snapped. The first wave was lucky enough to die on impact, but they cushioned the next fluffies enough to survive the fall. Not enough for them to escape injury though.


‘Wowstest owwies!! Owwwieeess!!’


The unfortunate creatures writhed in pain, bodies horribly broken. Shock took some, but most had to wait longer to die.

‘Eeee!’ The mare yelped as another fluffy ran past and tumbled into the pit.


The mare ran back toward the crops; she dodged oncoming fluffies and called out desperate warnings as she went. ‘Stahp, stahp!! Nu go dis way!! FWEND NU!!!’ The mare screamed at a dark green mare, then watched in horror as her friend tumbled over the edge with her foals. She tried to get back to the relative safety of the crops,


but a new roar from the monster stopped the mare in her tracks. In a moment of panic, she ran back in the direction of the pit before she came to her senses. Dread washed over the mare; in front was a massive pit, and behind was the most terrifying monster she’d ever heard! She was trapped.

‘Mummah!! Peep peep!! Sabe babbeh!!’ Her last foal cried. ‘Scawies!!! Peeeep!!’ Not knowing what else to do, the mare plucked the filly from her back and clutched it to her chest. She pushed the terrified foal deep into her fluff to protect it as the rest of the herd barrelled past. A few others noticed the trench and stopped in time. Some ran down its length in search of an escape, but others realised the hopelessness of their situation; they hugged one another and cried as the monsters approached.

‘THERE'S THE CROP LINE!’ Chester yelled to Johnny.

‘I SEE IT,’ he yelled over the music, loud even in the cab of the truck. Johnny hoped Dale’s ear plugs and muffs were enough to shield him from the sound.

‘SHUT IT OFF!’ Chester yelled again when the pick-up emerged from the field.

Johnny hit pause and the music stopped. ‘Come on.' Chester jumped out of the truck, ‘We gotta get em' all in the pit.' Johnny and Dale joined him in short order. In front of them was the trench meant to trap the fleeing herds; all six had taken nearly two weeks to dig, and everyone was glad the fluffies didn't figure out what they were for. On the stretch of ground between it and the crops, a couple dozen fluffies sat in place or ran about in circles. Dale grabbed a young stallion by the scruff.

‘Screeeee!!’ The stallion flailed in terror. Dale swung his arm back and tossed the fluffy into the trench. ‘EEEEEEE!!’ A tiny stream of piss showed his path through the air. Chester and Johnny followed Dale’s lead and tossed the stragglers in.

‘Screeee! Nu huwt fwuffy!!!’

‘Nuuuu!’ An earthy mare shrieked. ‘Nu wan fwy!! Nu am wingiEEEEEEE!!’

Fluffy after fluffy was tossed into the trench; so many had fallen in by now, the new arrivals were cushioned enough to escape serious injury. It wasn’t long until only a few fluffies were left, among them the mare with her last foal.

‘Peep peep peep!! Peeeep!!’ The foal was beyond words; her mother's warm fluff was barely any comfort. The mare heard footsteps approach. She looked up and saw Chester in front of her. ‘Pw-pwease nice Mistah,' she tried, ‘Pwease nu huwt mummah ow wastest babbeeeee!!' The mare shrieked as Chester grabbed her by the scruff and heaved her into the trench. ‘Screeeee!!' The world spun and blurred, and on reflex she scrabbled about with her legs, only to realise her mistake seconds later; ‘BABBEH!!!'

‘SCREEEEEE!!!’ The foal’s vision was a blur of ground, sky, ground, sky, colour, sky. ‘MUMMAHH!! MUMMAAAH!!’ With no control over her path through the air, all she could do was scream. ‘SCREEEE-OOF!!' After a terrifying ride, the filly landed in the trench. Cushioned by another fluffy, the worst she got was slightly winded. She had no time to gather herself though; the fluffy she landed on shifted and threw her off.

‘Screeee!!' The filly tumbled off the fluffy and came to rest on the body of another; already wounded by her fall, the poor mare was trampled to death by the fluffies who came after. On either side of the trench, able-bodied fluffies scrabbled at the sheer dirt walls.

Pwease weggies!! Wet Fwuffy scape!!’

Meanie waww!! Wet Mummah an babbehs go!!’



Where there was room, fluffies ran down the length of the trench to find another way out; the only thing they came across were fluffies from other herds with the same idea.

‘Mummah!! Mummah!!!’ The filly got to her feet and stumbled away. She clambered away over the bodies of the dead and dying. ‘MUMMAH!! MUMMAHHH!!’ She called out over and over.

‘Babbeh!! Babbeh!!!’

The filly whipped her head around and searched for the source of the call. But in the tangle of dead, dying and scared fluffies, there was no way to follow the calls.

‘Babbeh!! Babbeh cum tu mummah!!!’

‘Whewe am yu Babbehs!?! Babbehs!!!!’

Especially when dozens of mares yelled similar phrases over and over.

On the rim of the trench some ways down, Peter yelled out to the men who stood by their backhoes on the other side; ‘Fill it in!!'

The men climbed into the backhoes; nearly a dozen more diesel engines rumbled to life, and the machines went to work. With the front loaders, they scooped up buckets full of dirt from the nearby piles and dumped it in the trench; smaller piles were pushed in. Thick soil fell on the fluffies bellow and burried them alive; many didn’t have time to scream.



Fluffies ran in every direction, desperate to escape the dirt pouring in from above. Some hit on the idea to scramble up the newly formed ramps to the top of the trench,




but were shot and killed before they got even halfway.

‘SCREEE!! MUMMAH SABE BABBEH!!’ The little filly scurried over the carpet of bodies, searching for her mother while dodging other fluffies. ‘SQUEEEEE!!!’ But she wasn’t quick enough; an errant hoof crushed one of her hind legs. The foal tumbled and fell in a space between two dead adults. She craned her head around and saw the bloody broken remains of her leg.

‘SCREEEEEE!!! MUUUMAAAHHHH!!! HUWTIES!!!' She tried to clamber out of the space, but didn't have the strength or purchase, not to mention the pain from her crushed leg. Hopelessly trapped, all the filly could do was cry for help.

Outside, more dirt poured into the trench.


A backhoe dumped a bucket of dirt directly on a fleeing group. The weight crushed some to death instantly, but a few unfortunate ones survived the impact. Under the pile of dirt, they suffocated in darkness and pain.

‘Mummah!! Mummah huhuhuhuuu!!! Wai nu sabe babbeh!?!' In between the two dead fluffies the filly cried her lungs out, consumed by the pain from her leg and apparent abandonment by her mother. ‘Huuhuhuhuhuu!! Owwieeesss!! Mummaahh!!!' Over her own cries and those of other fluffies, the filly heard something; it was an odd sound but similar to the noise made by fluffies when they dug, only louder. The noise crept closer; as it did, the sounds of fluffies grew quiet or were cut short. Then, it was upon her.


The wave of dirt appeared in front of the filly and washed into the cavity; in an instant, her world went pitch black. After a moment of shock she tried to escape, but no matter how much she tried the filly couldn't move; not an inch. No sooner did she process that, the filly realised she could breathe either. An impossible weight bore down on her tiny chest; it cracked ribs and squashed her lungs.

A tight clawing sensation filled the filly’s throat, and her body willed, demanded she breathe! But under nearly a ton of dirt, there was nothing to breathe. Trapped under the earth, immobile and in total darkness, the filly's body burned for want of oxygen. Her ears and head buzzed, her throat burned with the erg to breath; all this as well as primal terror. Soon though, she along with the others buried alive slipped into unconsciousness and shortly after death.

Above ground, the backhoes finished filling in the trench. Job done, Peter took stock; ‘Okay boys, that's one field down.' He said over the radio. ‘Once the sweepers catch up we'll move on.' About a dozen acknowledgements came back. Peter leaned back in the driver's seat, and caught a quick rest before the action started up again.

‘How many did you get?’ Steve ask.

‘Dunno,' Dimitri picked up an empty mag and tossed it in a bucket, then grabbed a fresh one and put it in his belt holder. ‘Maybe 30.'

‘30? You’re like the damn terminator!’

‘You’d bag more if you got a proper AR Steve,’ Dimitri checked over his rifle; the barrel was warm, but it was ready for another run.

‘Yeah, but I like shooting this one.' Steve said. ‘It just feels better.'

‘Man, you’re like those ass-holes who brought vinyl back.’ Dimitri put his rifle down and jumped out of the pick-up to stretch his legs. ‘Doesn’t matter what feels better, it’s what works better.’

‘Hey leave him alone,' Alex said from the driver's seat. ‘You're the same guy who won't buy anything that doesn't have wood on it.'

‘The difference is, my stuff works just the same.’ Dimitri said. ‘Give me some water.’ Alex passed Dimitri a bottle from the cooler on the passenger seat.

‘When are we heading for the next field?' Alex asked. ‘How much longer we gotta sit here?'

‘Until Dad says we move.’

‘Can I swap with you on the next field?’

‘You didn’t bring your rifle.’ Dimitri said.

‘No, I figured I could use yours.’

You know it’s a .308 right? You’re still a bit small for it, don’t you think? That was the first thing Dimitri thought to say. But, painful memories made him think better. ‘Sure. If you think you can handle it, be my guest.’

‘Thanks bro.’

The trio sat around shooting the shit until their sweepers caught up. ‘Okay boys,' Peter said over the CB not long after, ‘Let move.' Dimitri passed the water bottle back to Alex, and everyone jumped in the pick-up. Alex pulled a quick three-point term, a bit too quick for his brother's liking, and drove back through the field. Dimitri sat down in the bed of the pick-up, propped against the side wall and the cab; but it didn't feel right. They were going too fast. Dimitri stood up and banged on the cap roof.

‘Hey! Hey!! Slow down!!’

‘Relax Dimitri, it’s fine!’

‘No it’s not fine!’ Dmitri yelled. ‘There’s still dens out here, and we don’t know were the hell they-’

The truck lurched violently to one side and bounced. Dimitri threw himself down; smashing into the truck bed was a lot better than getting thrown out. The pick-up bounced and swerved to the right until Alex brought it to a halt.

Dimitri stood on shaky legs, and took a few deep breaths; ‘Ok, everyone alright?’

‘Urgh, yeah...’ Steve said. ‘Just banged my shins a bit...’ The two sweepers said much the same.

‘What about you Alex?’

‘I’m good,’ came the reply, but Dimitri jumped down to check for himself. His little brother was white-faced and had a death grip on the steering wheel. Otherwise, he was ok. Since there were no human injuries, it was time to check the truck. Dimitri walked around to the other side of the truck, which had an awfully bad sag-

‘Holy shit,’ Exactly what Dimitri warned Alex about had happened; the truck hit an unseen den, and at the speed they were going at ripped the tyre off the rim. The rim itself was bent. Not catastrophically so, but enough so a new tyre wouldn't sit properly.

‘Oh shit!' Dimitri turned; Alex was right next to him. ‘I… Dimitri, I'm so-'

‘Dammit, Alex!' His tempered flared. ‘I told you to slow down! Didn't I tell him, Steve?'

‘He's right Alex,' Steve said from the bed. ‘He said slow down.'

‘I’m sorry!’ Alex yelled. ‘I… I didn’t want to be late!’

‘For what? You think there's a damn race on? Cause this is what that gets you!' Dimitri pointed at the broken wheel.

‘Dammit man, I said I was sorry!’ Alex’s voice cracked.

Dimitri was about to carry on, but memories of another young brother threw water on the fire. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. ‘Alright, alright. I ain’t angry at you.’ He patted Alex on the shoulder; ‘You just scared me.’

‘Thanks,’ his brother said softly.

Dimitri opened the passenger side door and grabbed the CB. ‘Hey guys, we need some help over here.’

‘We see you, on our way,’ someone said. A few moments later a dark blue F-series pulled up. ‘What happened Dimitri?’ The driver, a friend of his called Gus asked.

‘We hit a den, took out a tyre.'

‘You need help changing it?

‘No, just take these guys to the next field. I’ll sort this out and catch up.’ Before Alex or Steve could talk, Dimitri walked around to the truck bed and got his M-14. He handed the rifle and supplies to his brother. ‘Here you go.’

Alex stood still for a moment; ‘But-’

‘Go on Alex, clear that field.’

‘Yeah man hurry up!’ Steve yelled from the bed of Gus’s pick-up. ‘You’re the one who wanted to get there so quick.’

‘Which is why I drove too damn fast.' Dimitri said quickly. ‘Should've known better.' He nodded at his little brother. Alex nodded back and joined Steve.

‘You sure you’re good?’ Gus asked.

‘I’ll be fine; go on, don’t keep my Dad waiting.’ Gus nodded, put the pick-up back into gear and drove off into the distance, leaving Dimitri with an immobile truck. ‘*Sigh*’ He went to grab his tools from the back of the pick-up. ‘Let’s just hope it’s just the damn wheel and tyre.’





In the next field, the hunters chased the fluffies toward the trench; those in the back picked off as many runners as they could. It was easier this time, as the crops were shorter and gave less concealment.


Dozens of rounds went down range and dropped the fluffies as they ran.

*BANG-CRACK* ‘Damn!' His brother's rifle bucked hard against Alex’s shoulder and pushed the scope away from the red fluffy he'd aimed at. ‘Did I hit it?' He asked.

‘Hit what?’ The man next to him said.

‘Yeah man,’ Steve added. ‘No idea. *BANG-CRACK. Ca-shunk.* Too busy tracking my targets.’

Alex cursed under his breath and raised the rifle again; he regretted not bringing his. He was no slouch as a marksmanship, but the weight and recoil of Dimitri's M-14 threw him off. ‘Alright,' Alex lay the cross-hairs on another fluffy, and tried to fool himself the rifle was-


The rifle bucked and rose, but when Alex put the scope back on the area he couldn't see the fluffy he'd aimed at. He took that as a good sign and searched for a new target.

Far above, a large agricultural drone tracked the fluffies and hunters as they moved. Peter controlled the drone from his truck; it beamed a live video feed to him and Pavel back at the ranch house.

‘Second field looks good so far,’ Pavel said to his brother over the Radio. ‘How are things on the ground?’

‘We’re doin pretty well,’ Peter reported. ‘Might get this wrapped up by-’

‘Wait a minute, you see that?’


‘Something’s going on in field three.’

‘Hang on,' Peter shifted the drone's camera to where Pavel meant. ‘Aw hell!!'

‘Yep, looks like we spooked them.' In field number three, right next to number two, herds were already on the move. Without the trucks to push them, the fluffies scattered and fled in all directions. Some were headed in the general direction of the trench, but a few herds banded together and were attempting to push down a fence! ‘Dammit, we can't let them let them get away!' Pavel said. ‘Can you sent anyone over there?'

‘They won't make it in time,' Peter said, ‘but I can scare them away with the drone.' His brother asked if he was sure, but Peter didn't answer. He dropped the drone's altitude and piloted it towards where the herds were gathered.

‘Hawdah!! Nee scape!!!' A stallion yelled as he and others pushed against the fence post. Behind them, mares tried to keep their foals calm, while they looked anxiously over their shoulders.

‘Mowe!!! Mowe!!!’

The fluffies’ combined efforts worked; slowly, the fence post leaned over. Encouraged by the progress, the stallions pushed harder; they were moments away from opening an escape route from the-



The drone came to a hover just above the herds; it's sudden appearance plus the engine and rotor noise terrified the fluffies. In a moment of panic, they turned and fled back into the field. Those near the back were pushed aside or trampled. Peter chased the herds back, moving back and forth along the fence line. When the fluffies were scattered, Peter raised the drone and searched the field for any other groups trying to push down fences to escape.

He saw what looked to be two herds moving to the edge of the field, swooped low and drove them back. Peter again took the drone to height and checked the fuel; another five minutes before he had to send it home for more. Factoring in flight time and refuelling, it would be gone about 15 to 20 minutes; He hoped the fences would hold.

Back on the ground in field two, the line of pick-ups reached the trench and the men got out to toss in the stragglers. Inside, the trapped fluffies scrabbled at the sheer walls and stood on the bodies of the dead and wounded. Soon they were buried under tons of dirt. Like before, everyone waited for the sweepers to catch up so could move on.

Somewhere back in the field, a mare and her foals cowered in their den. A few hours ago the little bundles of joy had opened their eyes, and moments later spoke their first words.

‘Mummah!! W-wub!!!’

‘Mm-miwkies!! Chirp, miwkies!!’

‘Hehe, w-wub!! Wub!!’

It was the happiest moment of the mare’s life, same for her mate. Not long after they heard strange noises in the distance, but it didn’t concern them. They like the hundreds of fluffies who lived in the fields were used to the sound of far away machinery. So they ignored it, and focused on their foals; however, the noises got closer. The stallion went out with the other stallions and those from a neighbouring herd to investigate, and fight if needed. The mare stayed and tended to the foals, who were unsettled by the sounds.

‘Peep peep, scawies!’

‘Nu wike huhu! Peeep!’

‘Nu be scawdies babbehs,’ she said. ‘Daddeh nu wet scawy tings get tu nestie.’ Her special-friend was a toughie after all, and the bravest stallion she’d ever met. ‘Mummah sing pwetty songies an make scawdies go way; Mummah wub babbehs, babbehs wub-


The scream sent hot prickles through-




Before she knew it, the mare was curled tightly around her brood. Outside the terrified screams and strange sounds got louder.





Fear paralysed the mare, and her foals pissed and shat everywhere.

‘Peep peep peeep!!!’

‘Mummah!! Peeeeep!!! Scawies!!’

‘Sabe babbeh!! Sabe Babbeh!!!’

The youngsters huddled as close to their mother as they could, oblivious to the filth in their fine fluff. In her mind, the mare screamed at herself to run away and save her babbies! But she couldn't move, much less go outside with those monsters!! Instead she stayed put to protect her foals, and waited for her mate to return. Outside the noises got louder until it seemed they were right on top of the den! A low rumble passed nearby; bits of dirt fell from the roof of the den Terrifying seconds ticked by, and the mare waited with breath held. But, the noises passed by and grew smaller.

Whatever the danger was, it was gone. Still, the mare couldn’t bring herself to move. Please cum back special-frend! Sabe Fluffy and babbehs!! She stayed put and waited for her mate to return. As time passed though, it became clear he wasn’t coming back. What could have happened to him? Was he in trouble? The thought her special-friend been hurt, or worse, was almost too much! But, it was clear she couldn't stay in the den, and not just because it smelled foul; she couldn't protect and care for their litter alone.

The mare summoned her courage. ‘*Gulp* C-cum on babbehs,’ She gathered her terrified littler onto her back.

‘Peeep!! Nuuu!!’

‘Nu wan!! Peep peep!! Scawies!!’

‘P-pwease babbehs,’ the mare said. ‘Nee find Daddeh an wun way!’ Though they were terrified, the foals could do little to resist. Soon she had them all on her back and tentatively left the den.

‘*Gasp!*' The scene outside was pure carnage; fluffies of all ages lay in crumpled, bloody heaps. Blood dripped to the ground from gunshot wounds, intestines and organs spilt from larger holes. One stallion fell into the sites of a guy who brought a 45-70 of all things; the round had quite literally torn the fluffy to pieces. The mare gazed in horror at the dead fluffies, many she knew! Tears formed in her eyes when she saw the foals trampled to death in the mad dash to get away. Then, her gaze wandered to the edge of the herd's home.

‘N-nu. Nu!’

There she saw a familiar patch of fluff, the one thing she didn’t want to find; ‘Nu! Nu!!’ The mare ran as fast as she dared, careful not to drop her precious foals. ‘Nu!! Pwease nu!!' The mare arrived at the dead fluffy, her special-friend. For a few moments, she stared at the corpse and refused to believe what she saw. The foals peeped and cried in fear from the smell of death all around.

‘Nuuu!!! Nuuhuhuhuhu!!!’ The mare felt her heart rip in two; she collapsed forward and hugged the corpse. ‘Nuuuhuhuhu, pwease Speciaw-fwend!!! Pwease wake up!! Nu be fowewa sweepies!! Fwuffy nee Speciaw-fwend!!!’ The mare cried and begged her mate to wake up. ‘Pwease wake up Speciaw-fwend!! Fwuffy nu can take cawe of babb-


The mare felt an incredible weight knock her to the ground. She screamed in fear and surprise, or at least thought she did. After a moment's shock the mare tried to right herself and go to the aid of her foals, but she couldn't. Her body wouldn't respond to her commands, and before the bewildered mare could figure out what was wrong, blood loss from the shotgun wound killed her.

Paul stepped through the crops, shotgun lowered. The mare he'd shot twitched a few times, but grew still before he got there. Around the body, her surviving foals peeped loudly and crawled around on the ground.

‘Peep peep peep! Mummah!! Peeeep!!’

‘Sabe babbeh! Sabe babbeh!!!’

‘Mummah!! Peeeeeep!!’

Paul crushed the foals into the dirt with his boot; he despised the sounds they made, like rats or pigeons but worse for some ungodly reason. With the last foal dead, Paul moved on to take care of the other stragglers.


The cull took longer than expected, mostly because the herds in field five successfully pushed down a fence and made their escape before the hunters arrived. It turned into a mad dash to corral and kill the escapees. A little after three in the afternoon, the last trench was filled in. Work was far from done though; fences needed repair and reinforcement, and repellent sprayed around the perimeter so ferals wouldn't return. There would be time for that latter though. Right now, all anyone wanted was to unwind; most headed to Pavel's house, where the biggest celebration was planned.

‘You should have brought your own rifle Alex.’ Steve said in the back of the truck. ‘No one’s ever gonna let you forget I got more with this thing!’ Steve tapped his rifle.

‘Come on Steve, I didn’t think it would be that hard.’ Alex shook his head; Dimitri made it look easy, but his older brother did have 40 extra pounds to fight recoil with.

‘Dude, have you even shot that thing before today?'

‘Hey!' Gus yelled from the cab. ‘Lay off him Steve, Alex did just fine.'

Steve nodded. ‘Got it. Sorry man.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Alex looked at the fields and open planes pass by, and couldn't help wonder how many fluffies were still out there. At least his family's fields where free of them, but it would take a hell of an effort to clear the rest.

‘Looks like Dimitri finally got his truck rolling.' Alex stood and looked over the roof. Coming down the road was Dimitri's truck; he breathed a sigh of relief. If it was moving, he couldn't have done much damage. The pick-ups pulled off to either side of the road.

‘See you got her rolling again!’

‘Yep!’ Dimitri yelled. ‘Rim and tyre were fucked, but nothing else.’

‘What took you so long? Didn’t see you in at the other fields.’

‘Yeah, I went back home to put her on the hoist and make sure everything was fine. And dump the tyre and rim.’

‘I get you!’ Gus said. ‘You going to your uncle’s?’

‘Yeah, I'll be there. Just wanted to find you guys and take my gear home.’ Dimitri looked at Alex, ‘Can I get my rifle back?'

‘Yeah, sure!' Alex gathered up his brother's stuff, climbed down from the truck and carried it over. He put the rifle and other gear in the back and went to the driver's window. ‘So, it's okay now?'

‘Yeah, it’s all good.’

Alex relaxed a little; it seemed his brother didn’t have any hard feelings.

‘Go on, you head over to uncle Pavel's place with Gus. I'll catch up.'

‘Cool. See you there.' Alex went back to Gus's pick-up and climbed into the bed; the trucks drove off. A little under a half hour later, Dimitri arrived back home. He stopped the truck, grabbed his gear and took it back inside. On the way back out, Dimitri looked at the track which went from their house to the edge of their property. He shook his head at the thought of what he’d done earlier; ‘What the hell was I thinking?’ he muttered. Dimitri knew it was stupid, downright heresy as far as his dad and uncle would be concerned if they found out. But, even so…


‘Goddammit,' Sweat dripped down Dimitri’s face as he struggled with the rim. ‘Come on you son of a bitch!' Bent out of shape by the impact, it proved difficult to get off the hub. ‘Come on, come on...' After some time and a lot of effort, he felt it move. ‘Finally!' It took a bit more effort, but the rim slowly came loose from the hub. A good deal of careful shifting later, Dimitri got the rim off and dumped it on the ground. He stood up to stretch his legs, and grab his water bottle from the cab. For a while Dimitri rested, but resisted the erg to lean on the truck. It'd been drilled into his head you never leaned on a vehicle when you changed a tyre.

Then, he heard it.

‘*Sniff* huuhuhuuu.’

‘Shh, nu make noises Speciaw-fwend.’

It came from somewhere behind the pick-up. Dimitri walked around and pulled out his pistol as he went. There, not far from the truck, he found two fluffies trying to sneak through the field. Dimitri raised the gun and levelled it at one of them, a dark yellow fluffy with a swollen abdomen. His finger went to the trigger, when the second fluffy looked up.

‘NUUUU!!’ The fluffy threw itself over the yellow one, who shrieked in alarm. Before it could protest, ‘NU GIV SPECIAW-FWEND HUWTIES!!’

The scream threw Dimitri off, but he recovered quickly and put the pistol back on target. Again, he moved his finger to the-

‘Pwease! Pwease!!’ The fluffy, who must have been a stallion, looked at Dimitri with tear filled eyes. ‘Nu huwt Speciaw-fwend!! Nu huwt tummeh-babbehs!! Pwease!! Pwe-hease!!’


The stallion never broke eye contact with Dimitri while he shielded the mare. ‘Pwease nice Mistah!! Nu huwt Speciaw-fwend! Nu mean make hoomins so maddies!! Nu mean id!!!’ Tears poured from the stallion's eyes. ‘Pwease nu huwt Speciaw-fwend!! She am soon-mummah!! Hav tummeh-babbehs!!’

‘BABBEHS!! SABE BABBEHS!!’ The mare screamed hysterically. ‘MUMMAH!! MUMMAH HEWP!!!’

Dimitri kept his gun pointed at the fluffies; even with the stallion in the way, the rounds would have little problem going through both. One shot and it would be over. Except, his finger wasn’t anywhere near the trigger. Dimitri brought it back up, and went through the motions. When the stallion saw Dimitri stiffen, he shut his eyes and covered as much of the mare’s body as he could. Dimitri’s finger touched the trigger, but it wouldn’t pull.

Dimitri shook his head; These things damn near wrecked Paval’s crops, and you’ve shot 3 dozen today at least! He levelled the pistol at the stallion’s head, the stallion who’d invaded his family's farm and damaged the crops, but who was also prepared to take a bullet for his mate, and his…

Before he knew what happened, Dimitri saw the gun was lowered. No matter what, he couldn't bring it back up. After a while, the stallion opened his eyes.


Dimitri took the towel off the box, and carefully lifted the two fluffies out onto the ground. He stood, and pointed out at the land beyond his father’s land.

‘There’s some woods out that way, should make a good home.’ Dimitri said. ‘Keep walking, and you'll find them. Stay away from farms, got it?’

The fluffies looked in the direction Dimitri pointed, then back at him; ‘Bud why du fwuffies hav go dat faw? Wai hoomins-’

‘Hey!’ Dimitri snapped. ‘I’m risking my hide enough for you as is! Go on, get! Shoo!!’

Chastened by his harsh words, the fluffies turned and walked off. Dimitri gathered up the box and took it back to the truck, when he felt something grab his leg. He looked down, but before he could verbally tear the stallion a new one,

‘Tank yu! Tank yu nice Mistah!!'

The words made him Pause.

‘*Sob* Tank yu f-fow nu huwtin Speciaw-fwend an tummeh-babbehs!’

‘Yeah, yeah fine. Just go already!’

The stallion hugged Dimitri’s one last time, turned and galloped back to his mate. Together they started their journey over the planes to an uncertain future. Dimitri watched them go for a moment, then dumped the box in the truck. On the drive back up the track, dozens of thoughts ran through his mind. What the hell did he just do, and why? He saved a couple of kids toys for fuck sake, toys! Toys that begged for their lives, and were ready to sacrifice themselves to protect their…

Dimitri shook his head. ‘One-time thing,' he muttered. ‘It was a one-time thing.'


As a little extra, this is the full in universe playlist Johnny made for the day.

Rip it up; 28 Days.

Burn it down, Trashed and scattered, Bat country, Nightmare; A7X.

Ghost ship of cannibal rats, This is how it goes, Line and sinker, Red flag, Worker bees; Billy Talent.

War Pigs, Parinoid, Mob rules; Black Sabbath.

Key entity extraction III: Vic the butcher, Welcome home, Crossing the flame, Gravemakers and gunslingers, The broken, Here we are juggernaut; Coheed and Cambria.

Got your six, Jekyll and hyde, Dying breed, Bulletproof, Burn it down, War is the answer, Burn MF, Mama said knock you out; 5FDP.

The trooper, Die with your boots on, Flash of the blade; Iron Maiden.

Painkiller, All guns blazing, Between the hammer & the anvil, Metal meltdown; Judas Priest.

The love song, The fight song, This is the new shit, Tourniquet, The beautiful people, The reflecting god; Marilyn Manson.

And justice for all, Hit the lights, Jump in the fire, Seek and destroy, Metal Militia, Battery, Master of puppets, Disposable heroes; Metallica.

Walk, Drag the waters, War nerve, Great southern trendkill; Pantera.

When worlds collide, Supernova goes pop, Operate, Annihilate, Theme to a fake revolution; Powerman 5000.

Superbeast, Dragula, Demonoid Phenomenon, Meet the creeper, Scum of the earth, Ironhead; Rob Zombie.

Ghost Division, Unbreakable, Talvisota, Firestorm, Attero Dominatus, Metal Crue, Gott mit uns, The carolean’s prayer, Poltava, Screaming eagles, Metal Ripper, Man of War, Winged Hussars, Panzer Battalion, All guns blazing; Sabaton.

Push it, I'm with stupid, Sweat of the bud, Wisconsin death trip; Static X.

Deer Dance, Attack, Prison Song, Chop Suey!, Psycho; SOAD.


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Fiberglass: Another good extermination story.
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dead: you sir, have excellent taste in music, and fluffy extermination methods
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Anonymous1: I figure the feral herds mostly are separate "trees", with rural/wilderness herds originating from the original escapees or fluffies later dumped in the woods...and the urban herds/alley fluffies just being rejects/escapees. Little or no crossover, as the rural fluffies avoid scary urban areas and the urban fluffies don't leave the "easy" scavenging in the cities.
It's the suburban areas that get any crossover, as rural and urban fluffies accidentally spill over.

What this means is that there's really two very different fluffy "cultures", with very different rules and behaviors (complicated by the hard-coded Hasbio behavior set). There's rural herds who haven't seen a human for 4-5 generations, and urban herds that have learned tricks from watching humans.
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Anonymous2: @Anonymous: It doesn't make much sense that rural fluffies wouldn't see humans for more than two generations at a time (at most). Humans kinda like to go everywhere and any place too dangerous for a human to hang out would be way too dangerous for a community of loud, clumsy, stumpy-legged gmo animals to survive.

But they should have pretty distinct ways of dealing with humans. Rural trying to avoid them since literally everything that's not a fluffy tries to kill them and urbans seeking out humans until they've been abused enough to stop begging for adoption.

Then suburban having a mix of both attitudes thanks to the crossover.
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Anonymous3: Could be wilderness flurries who only recently stumbled across a farm. They wouldn’t be wary of humans per se.

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ForScience: This is great, everything about this story is fan-fucking-tastic. Please keep writing.
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Anonymous4(1): @Anonymous:

There's "rural" (i.e. farm country and such, outside the suburb belts) and "rural" (wilderness). The latter could have herds that simply haven't run into humans in months to years...and would likely avoid the odd hiker/hunter as "scawy".....not to mention being more savvy at keeping a low profile, due to coyotes and wolves and such.

I can see residents of urban, suburban, and rural areas taking different courses of action when it comes to "purges".
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Papa_Khorne: Mmm I love me some sabaton. My suggestions for additions are In The Name of God, Panzerkampf, reign of Terror, and We Burn would be good.
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Researcher_7201: Kinda intrested in what will become of the stallion and mare at the end
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Nuuu: I especially enjoyed the sibling-dynamic.
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Anonymous5: The fluffies deserved to live and I would skin Paul alive for killing the foals
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Anonymous6(5): I'm glad that Dimitri showed mercy to the fluffy ponies at the end
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Anonymous7: Dimitri you faggot. He should have shoot the mare right in the middle to see a beatiful explosion of foals and organs everywhere. Anyway, I really loved the story. Good action "scenes" made me want to grab a guns and join the group. Good reading