Fluff Farm B1

>you are now Jethro

>despite your rustic exterior, you are an educated man of philosophical leanings

>you work as a farm hand because a masters in humanities is really just expensive toilet paper

>the new guy is finally catching on to the callousness this job requires

>raising fluffy ponies is dirty, emotion-deadening work

>most of the time you block it out

>except when you have to amputate a fluffy ponies limbs

>it is precise work that requires focus or you could kill the merchandise or lose a finger to the saw

>some inner sadistic half of you does churn with glee when it finally hits the fluffy pony that its legs just got sawed off, and is then seared with a blowtorch

>you do take a bit of solace that they'll become a cherished pet

>you showed him how to do it, but he's still very green

>one of them slipped his grip while cutting the first forelimb

>damned shed door wasn't locked and the little guy escaped

>at least escaped into the main paddock, scaring the hell out of the rest of the herd before bleeding out

>took the heat so new guy wouldn't get sacked

>"accidents happen" you said

>of course, now you're cleaning out the stables

>you wouldn't mind if so many of the fluffies didn't try to play Hide and Seek among their dead...

>it keeps happening