abuse agriculture communism communist_fluffy death_march forced-labor forced_cannibalism gulag holiday_in_cambodia killing_fields questionable starvation

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The Killing Fields



The muggy air hung heavy over the fluffy laborers toiling in the fields. The sun shone bright, causing some fluffies to shine along with it as the rays of light reflected off their brightly colored fluff. It was not to their benefit, as many of them perspired and huffed and puffed like a dog that had been running around for too long.

Mercury dug a hole. Not too deep, not too shallow, not too wide, not too narrow. It had to be just right, or else someone would notice. And if someone noticed, that meant some really bad things were going to happen. A few feet away from her, another fluffy was planting seeds in the holes. It was like this all across the camp. Some fluffies were picking fruit out of bushes, tearing up weeds, digging irrigation ditches or dugouts for homes, pulling carts of water or food back and forth and in-between, all under the watchful eyes of the human overseers or "Civil Protection" units staffed by fluffies the overseers trusted, distinguished by the red scarves tied around their necks and green caps on their heads. The foals that were there were put into cadres, where a human instructor would drill their heads with the teachings of Marx and Engels (as best one could teach such things to a fluffy).

Mercury thought about the circumstances that led to this reality for her and so many others. A fluffy's memory was never particularly good, and if you asked Mercury to give a day by day accounting of her life, there'd be some significant gaps in her life history. But some events were more significant than others, and getting stuck in Camp 21, as the humans called it, was one such event.

Groups of heavily armed men had come into the city one day. They were taking all the fluffies out of the city, sending them off into the countryside. A tall mister had knocked on the door of her family, and her daddy had answered it, asking "What's this about, gentlemen?" The tall mister didn't even acknowledge him, just yelled at the shorter humans he had brought with him to check the house for fluffies. Daddy had tried to argue with the tall mister that this wasn't right, they couldn't just break in like this, but the tall mister pulled out a handgun and pointed it at daddy, and then he stopped talking.

Mercury had been stuffed inside a cardboard box to hide in, and could just barely make out what was going on, looking through the holes. The people who had come broke things in the house, she knew this because of the sounds of things getting smashed could be heard even within the box. Little mommy was leaning up against the box. The tall mister noticed this, and he shouted at little mommy to move, then pushed her to the side when she didn't. Mercury covered her eyes with her hooves as the tall mister tore the box open with a knife, then pulled her out of it.

"We got one! Grab the toys and all that other shit, we're moving out!" the tall mister had shouted to his associates. Sure enough, they had grabbed the ball, the stuffed animals, the toy trucks and cars, all of it went into a huge sack that was already crammed with items from other households that were once a fluffy's home.

After that, Mercury, along with thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of domestic fluffies, were thrown together in one big column, and forced to march out of the city. For three days, they marched. Fluffies who couldn't keep up were attacked with thin sticks that the humans carried with them, until they either sped back up or their injuries were too much to handle, and subsequently died on the road. Mercury and countless other fluffies were worn out by the experience. Their legs hurt from the endless marching, their hooves were blistered and bleeding, many of them having stepped on rocks or other hard objects on the march. Mothers with foals could only provide milk to their children during the nights, when it was time to rest. Food was issued sparingly, and mothers given little time for nursing too, so many foals not yet weaned off milk had their ribcage showing through their skin, or were coughing and hacking because their weakened state left them highly susceptible to sickness.

Too many times the marching fluffies heard a mother crying out, shaking their children, demanding "pwease make wakies babbeh! Nu take foweva sweepies!" only for one of the human escorts to come around and club them mercilessly for having stopped. Many of the mothers were so unwilling to part with their dead and dying foals that the escorts had to beat them to death. Any foals that the deceased mothers still had left alive were stomped into the dirt immediately, since they couldn't walk with the rest. Some escorts beat the chirping foals anyways, and laughed as they demanded the foals get up and walk with the others. No fluffy could try to stop and reason with the escorts, or worse, try to fight them off. The ones who did were either beat so hard that their skin cracked open and bled, or were skinned alive as an example to the rest.

Mercury had always wanted babies, but was now glad that her owners had refused her request. She didn't know what she'd do if she had children of her own put on the death march.

Through dense vegetation, the fluffies were led to a massive, flat grassland, where Camp 21 had been erected. The camp was surrounded by barbed wire fences, moats filled with water, and was already populated with a few hundred fluffies. Some tried to eat the grass that laid underneath their feet, but any escort that caught them in the act would beat them for this too, shouting that none were permitted to eat without permission. In the months to come, Mercury and the thousands of fluffies jammed into Camp 21 would learn quickly that doing much of anything without permission from the guards or Civil Protection meant consequences.

The fluffies were all gathered up in the square, where a mister shouted to the thousands who'd survived the death march about how the domestic fluffies had it easy their whole lives, how it was time for them to toil as their wild brethren had done and create an agrarian commune based on Maoist principles. Nobody really comprehended what he was saying aside from the declaration that everyone was going to be doing hard labor from now on, and that domestic life was over for good. To really hammer the point home, all the toys that the humans had taken from the fluffies' owners were thrown into a large pit and burned, much to the dismay of the herd.

From that day forward, it was all work. Get up in the morning, work until night, get fed only a slice of bread and a bowl of cold stew every day. An hour of preaching the values of agrarian socialism and the evils of complacent domestic life was the only reprieve from a day of hard labor. Everyone was sore and tired from it all.

"Mobe it 'ou wazy dummeh!" shouted a Civil Protection officer at some fluffy excavating a dugout.

"Huu huu, Geowgie's hoofsies hab bad huwties! Nu wan dig nu mowe!" The CP whacked Georgie across the face.

"'Ou wowk, ow 'ou gu hungwy!" The CP smacked him a couple more times to properly motivate him.

"EEEP! Nu huwt, nu huwt! Geowgie wowk, Geowgie wowk!" And work he did, chipping away at the dirt quick as he was able.

No fluffy dared look up or stop what they were doing to watch. Only a few shed silent tears. Public displays of empathy with a penalized worker were treated with suspicion. Suspicion got you sent to "The Complex".

The Complex was a concrete building with bars for windows. Miserable looking fluffies peered out these windows. None of them spoke, they just looked with expressions that told everyone who looked just how bad they had it. Occasionally screams were heard from the Complex's walls. Whenever someone asked about it, the fluffies were told that counter-revolutionaries were being punished there. No-one knew exactly what it meant to be "counter-revolutionary", but since it seemed synonymous with "bad fluffy", it was generally understood that to avoid going to the Complex, you:
A. Did as you were told, when you were told,
B. Followed the rules and routines to the letter
C. Never complained or talked about how city life was better
D. Never, EVER associate yourself with other bad fluffies.

A couple dozen fluffies were getting escorted out of the Complex. Fluffies who left the Complex were never returned to the camp. Mercury kept digging. No way was she giving them an excuse to stick her there.

----

Reynard leaned against the bars of the window, mouth agape, eyes half closed. They never let him sleep here. At night the lights are turned on instead of off. They blared obnoxious propaganda through the speakers. If you ever wanted to take a nap in the Complex, you had to ask the guards for permission (CPs weren't authorized to even talk with the prisoners). Most anyone who asked was told no though, so few even bothered to ask.

The door to the small cell was opened. A nozzle to a hose was stuck in, then the cell was inundated with water. Reynard coughed and struggled to breathe as the deluge hit him, then stopped as quickly as it began. As much as he wanted to, he wasn't allowed to even lick up the water, dirty as it was, from the ground or walls. The nozzle moved to the next room as Reynard was escorted by a CP to the line.

"HUU HUU! NU WIKE MEANIE WAWAS!" cried the fluffy in the next cell. They must've been pretty damn new here to have protested the rough treatment. The CP went in and slammed their face against the bars for that one, then kicked the miserable fuck out of the cell. The fluffy stood near Reynard with blood dripping from his nose and a sore forming on the side of their face.

Roll call. The guards rattled off the prisoner numbers and the charges they were brought under. Reynard answered in the affirmative when the guard listed off his crime: spilling a bucket of water. When they got to the next fluffy (the crime of conspiracy to leave the camp), he bellowed out and screamed "NU! IT NU AM TWUE! WOBEWT JUS' MISS MUMMAH-". A CP cut him off with a hoof across the jaw, causing Robert to lose a tooth.

"No talking out of turn, Number 5-3-1-2. Any further noises that come out of your mouth will be dealt with severely." the guard said in the same tone of voice used during roll call. Other fluffies along the line averted their gaze, as Robert was subsequently smacked again and again for daring to sob as the guard kept going down the line. Robert was smacked until he could no longer stand up straight, and collapsed in a heap. Roll call was wrapped up. A guard came over and saw Robert's collapsed body.

"What's the problem with this one?" the guard asked the CP.

"Dis countah-wevowushionawy faww down." the CP replied.

"We'll make him stand up. Give him some encouragement, would you?" The CP saluted the guard with his right hoof, then kicked and smacked Robert in the stmach, the face, even rolled him over to hit him in the groin. Robert moaned in pain each time, but couldn't bring himself to stand.

"Alright, that's enough." the guard told the CP. "This one's going to be a troublesome one, so we're gonna stick him in the pit for a day or two, withhold all food and drink, then we'll see if he's a little more co-operative." And with that, the guard hauled Robert away. Maybe poor Robert would be one of the lucky ones who died early on.

After that incident, the fluffies were marched into the commons. CPs and guards watched them like hawks. No-one spoke, just listened to the propaganda that teachers were bellowing at them. Today the prisoners were going to bear witness to an interrogation done right here, in the open.

A pink pegasus mare with a red mane was brought up before the prisoners ad strapped down to a table, belly-up. The guards asked all manner of questions that every prisoner was accustomed to: questions about prior living standards, every reason they were a bad fluffy for having done whatever crime it is they committed (in the case of the current accused, stealing food), the details of the crime of course, and last, but certainly not least, co-conspirators.

"Nu, Bubbwes nu hab nu fwiends dat stowe nummies tu. Bubbwes steaw nummies aww awone." That was never an answer the interrogators wanted to hear.

"You lie. You're protecting your accomplices so that you can bring this entire camp down." the lead interrogator accused.

"Nu! It am twue! Bubbwes nu hab nummie tief fwiends!"

"You are going to tell us the truth one way or another, you wrecker." Giving one of the guards a hand signal, one of them took out a knife, and started making incisions on Bubbles's skin.

"OWIES OWIES OWIES! Stahp gibin' pointy owies, pwease! Bubbwes - OWIES! - am tewwing mistah - OWIES! - da twuf! Huu huu, BUBBWE NU WAN MOWE POINTY OWIES!"

"Confess." was all the lead interrogator said in response. As no further information was forthcoming from Bubbles, the lead interrogator had the guards pry the lacerations open with tweezers. Blood oozed from the wounds as Bubbles cringed from the pain. The lead interrogator had a vial of some ugly colored water in his hands.

"This is your final warning. Confess to your crimes, or else." Bubbles looked back with tears still streaming down her face.

"Bubbwes nu am wyin'!" she adamantly declared. The lead interrogator started pouring the strange liquid into Bubbles's wounds, where a sizzling sound could be heard.

"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! BUWNIES HUWTIES! SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!" Bubbles thrashed and fought against her restraints. Every injury was given a dose of the burning liquid - acid. Fluffies that tried to look away were whacked by either guards or CPs.

"Confess." the lead interrogator repeated.

"BUBBWE NU AM WIAW, BUBBWES AM TEWWIN' TWUF! WAI NU BEWIEVE BUBBUWES?! HUU HUU HUU!" The lead interrogator fetched a wire attached to an electrical torture device, and inserted it into Bubbles's vagina. With each turn of the dial, Bubbles let loose with a throaty scream, convulsing involuntarily several times. After a few minutes of this, the lead interrogator stopped.

"Are you ready to tell us the truth yet?" the lead interrogator asked.

"Bubbwes...nu...am...WIAW!" she shrieked at him. He pulled the electrical cord out of her vagina, and wagged his finger in her face. He motioned for a few CPs to come over.

"Bite her as hard as you can." The CPs did as they were told, assuming different positions and sinking their teeth as hard as they could into her.

"SCREEEEEE! NU! BUBBWES NU AM NUMMIES! NU AM NUMMIES!" Their bites started to draw blood, which trailed down their chins just a bit. After a moment of this, the lead interrogator waved them off, and they detached, leaving bloody teeth marks in Bubbles's pink fluff.

"We can go at this as long as you want. We're patient people."

"Bubbwes...nu...wie..." she eeks out.

On and on the session went. Bubbles was beaten, waterboarded, electrocuted again, whipped, had yet more acid poured into her wounds, but she maintained her stance. Reynard and a few of the others wanted to vomit, but had so little in their stomachs that puking up whatever was there could be potentially lethal. With naught else to do, they watched, as the unfolding even lasted hours.

"Well," went the lead interrogator, "I believe that you may, in fact, be telling the truth Bubbles." The look of relief of Bubbles's face was palpable. "That being said, you're still a food thief. As such, I feel that I must deliver an appropriate punishment for your actions." With that statement, the lead interrogator stuck his knife into the bottom of Bubbles's stomach, then pulled the knife up, spilling her intestines out.

"Nuuuhuuhuu...nu take tummeh sketties..." Bubbles croaked out, too worn out to scream anymore. The lead interrogator reached into the corpse's innards and pulled out its heart, its lungs, and its liver, tossing it in the middle of the crowd of prisoners.

"This is your dinner for today!" the interrogator shouted, letting the fluffies fight amongst themselves for the meal. Reynard and more than a few others didn't even bother. Better to go hungry, that way death was more assured. Besides, it was more dignified than fighting over the internal organs of one of their own.

----

"See 'ou next bwight time, fwiends! Wong wive da wevowushion!" Markus called out to his fellow CPs as they split off to their respective homes. Markus didn't go home to his special friend and foals right away. Instead, he went to a little corner, where nobody could see or hear him. Being extra cautious regardless, he cried as quietly as he could.

Sure, being part of Civil Protection gave him rewards, like better and larger portions of food than the laborers, a much cleaner and nicer home than they had, and above all, the ability to even have a special friend and raise foals in the first place.

But at what cost? How many fluffies had he brutalized already? How many fluffies will he have to beat senseless tomorrow? How many more grisly interrogations and executions would he have to bear witness to again?

Markus rubbed his teary eyes in the darkness. The worst part, he thought to himself, is that he had nobody he could confide in about this. Even if his fellow CPs felt the same, they'd surely report him to the humans and he'd be on the other side of the Complex's bars and walls in a real hurry, to say nothing of what could happen to his family. He couldn't even tell his special friend, or foals. They could report him just as easily, or worse, let slip that they knew how he really felt.

He looked over at the watery moat. Many a fluffy had jumped in there, either because they wanted to escape Camp 21 or escape their life. Markus thought better of it. He had a family to care for. He trodded his way home, having regained his composure.

Comments

- Reply
Nocturn: This really made my day. Great story
- Reply
Bonerfiesta: Could be worse. Could be the Brapping Fields.
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Writer_18: This is fantastic! Please keep us updated!
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coltclassic: About the only thing more stupid than a fluffy is someone who believes in communism, even the fluffy guards know they're just torturing innocents and parroting the right words in order to appease their masters and live a more privileged life, not really believing the crap they're told even if they could comprehend it.
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BranF1akes: @coltclassic: Agreed.
Fluffies>Communists

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sexygoatgod: Oh damn, that was a delicious one. Amazing work!
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Anonymous1: But what about the backstory of the world they live in? Seriously, man, don't leave a guy hanging here.

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FluffyPuncher: Very nice
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Anonymous2: Do one with Nazi fluffies.
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BranF1akes: @Anonymous: Maybe. ;)
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Anonymous3: @Anonymous: basically Khmer Rouge cambodia, but less human death and more fluffy death.