- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
Is this a reference to something? It makes me giggle every time I see it.
Furry Art Freak Show - From ungodly eyesores to nauseating masterpieces
- Thread starter OwO What's This?
- Start date
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2017
Are the parents from The Amazing World of Gumball based on Kevin and Kell? I think that's a wolf not a cat. But same idea.
The sheepdog sees the transram and immediately calls him out as a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Another strip has predators worrying that a rhino will ruin their chances of winning a hunting match. But she proves them wrong by crushing a gazelle or something with a tree.
Is transdiet sort of stuff used in other works? Other than transformation as a fetish itself.
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2020
Not sure. Most series with anthro animals completely glaze over the thought of "what do carnivores eat?". I know Beastars mentions it but there may be more. If I recall from the Kevin and Kell comics they made an aside joke about the wolf getting surgery to get "5 stomachs" like rams have. Whatever that means.Are the parents from The Amazing World of Gumball based on Kevin and Kell? I think that's a wolf not a cat. But same idea.
The sheepdog sees the transram and immediately calls him out as a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Another strip has predators worrying that a rhino will ruin their chances of winning a hunting match. But she proves them wrong by crushing a gazelle or something with a tree.
Is transdiet sort of stuff used in other works? Other than transformation as a fetish itself.
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2019
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2018
Sheep, Cows and other grass grazers tend to have multiple stomachs to help them both digest grass and gain as much nutrients from it as they can, as grass is both super tough and has very little in the way of...well anything. Its why they also vomit into their mouths to rechew it some more. Other herbivores, like horses or deer, fall into other catagories, like browsers or oppertunistic omnivores, so they only need the one stomach as they can eat a wider variety of stuff. Including small birds and mammals if the chance arises.
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2018
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2019
Solar plexus clown glider
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- May 10, 2020
Since the precedent has been set that stories are ok in here, I found something absolutely fucking foul today
A Mare of Proper Breeding
by Kinto Mythostian
I handed my jacket to the doorman and adjusted my necktie in the mirror. "How do I look?" I asked my companion.
"You look fine, Cian," Ulises told me, "Relax."
"I didn't have much time to prepare. I want to make a good impression."
"You and I have been together, what? Almost two years, now? Hecuba keeps asking me when everyone will finally get to meet you, and she was thrilled when I asked this morning if I could bring you over tonight."
"I really shouldn't be here. This is yours and Cassandra's thing-"
"But her flight home was cancelled, and I'm not showing up to one of Hecuba's parties without some smoking hot arm candy," Ulises teased, "Don't think of yourself as an interloper. Think of yourself as exotic."
"Ha. I'll bet you can count on your toes the number of non-equines you've seen at one of these thoroughbred shindigs."
Ulises looked at his solid hooves and cracked a grin. "You've got me there. We don't often let outsiders in. But just stick by my side and it'll all be smooth turf."
Sure enough, as a wolf I stood out amongst the crowd of hot-blood horses like goldenrod in a rose garden. My sharp fanged muzzle, clawed paws, and thick white fur were the subject of more than a few critical equine glares as we entered the crowded room, but they lightened significantly when they saw the tall white horse I was with. Everyone knew Ulises; in fact, everyone knew everyone. The thoroughbred community was notoriously tightknit.
The manse's main hall was appropriately grand in the traditional fashion, looking something like a barn would if it had been designed by L. C. Tiffany. The space was two stories tall, ringed on three walls by second floor balconies with thick dark wood used for columns, bannisters, and paneling. An intricate skylight made up of thousands of small panes of stained glass arched over the space, reflecting back into the room the light from the ornate iron chandeliers. Heavy tapestries hung along the walls muted the echoes of the crowded hubbub milling around the floor where thick rugs over the parquet muffled the guests' hoofsteps. And what a crowd it was; I'd never seen so many thoroughbreds in one place outside of derby weekend.
"Ulises! It's so good to see you!" I was still taking it all in when a chestnut mare with a mane and hide nearly as red as the sleeveless gown she wore swept towards us; she and Ulises kissed each other on the cheek.
"I wouldn't dream of missing one of your soirees, Hecuba," Ulises said with a sincere smile. "Hecuba, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Cian Quill. Cian, this is Ms. Hecuba Berkshire St. James."
"Hello, Mr. Quill, and welcome to my home. I am so glad to finally meet you. Ulises and Cassandra speak very highly of you."
"Call me Cian, please, Ms. St. James. I've heard so much about you, it's a pleasure to finally put a face to the name."
"And you may call me Hecuba, Cian. I do hope you'll enjoy yourself, though I'm afraid we may not have much to offer you to eat. It was rather short notice, and I can't recall the last time I've had an obligate carnivore in my home."
"I'll be fine, I'm sure. It won't be the first time I've had to fight for survival using only my wits and vegetable hors d'oeuvres."
Hecuba chuckled merrily as another mare shyly walked up to our trio.
"And who is this lovely lady?" I asked.
I knew enough about the breed to instantly recognize her as a thoroughbred, less than a hand taller than our host though still quite young, probably in her teens. Her hide was a rich red-brown like Hecuba's, though her mane and tail were dark, almost black, and a thin white stripe bisected her long equine face. She wore a crisp white blouse, an unbuttoned navy blue cardigan, and a knee-length navy blue plaid skirt. At first glance, I thought she was wearing short white socks on her ankles before I realized they were her natural markings. She was also very heavily pregnant, which surprised me; thoroughbreds rarely bred while they were still in prime racing age.
"This is Penelope," Hecuba said without any discernible enthusiasm, "my produce. Penelope, this is Mr. Quill."
"Hello, Mr. Quill," she mumbled, her gaze directed towards the carpeted floor, "Hello, Mr. Villacaballo Fuentes," she mumbled to Ulises.
"Hecuba tells me you have something special planned for tonight," Ulises said, "Most people wouldn't have the integrity to own up to their mistake like this. It's very mature of you."
Penelope didn't respond, her brown eyes fixed on her hooves and one hand resting on her gravid belly.
"Why the long face?" I joked in an effort to tease a smile from the incongruously morose mare.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as though wincing in pain and looked sadly to her mother.
"Well, I don't want to monopolize your time, gentlemen. Come along, Penelope," Hecuba said before sweeping away to greet the newest arrivals.
Penelope crinkled as mother and daughter walked away; I was puzzled for a moment before recalling that pregnancy could cause the side effect of incontinence. Couldn't it? I vaguely remembered having heard or read something like that once. I caught a snippet of their conversation before they vanished into the crowd.
"Penelope, I told you to wait in your room."
"Dam, please, do I really have to-"
"It was your decision, remember? We are not having this conversation again-"
I put it out of my mind and practiced my mingling, and there was a lot of mingling to do. Nearly everyone Ulises introduced me to was a name I recognized from the newspapers and magazines he and Cassandra brought home, all of them champions and superstars, heroes of the turf course and of the steeplechase.
I wasn't sure at first how much they knew about Ulises and I, and the arrangement we had with his wife, but it soon became clear that everyone knew everything, even if they were far too polite to say so explicitly. Gossip was currency among the thoroughbreds, and our not-very-secret was very well circulated. Ulises had assured me long ago that no one would mind what he and I did with each other as long as he and Cassandra kept the breed going, but this was the first big opportunity I'd had to verify this opinion. I had a grand time entertaining myself by peppering conversations with subtle innuendos and watching for the telltale signs of embarrassment that this prompted.
Hecuba, meanwhile, could frequently be seen gliding through the crowd and introducing certain young mares to certain young stallions. Penelope, however, had disappeared. It almost seemed like Hecuba was ashamed of her daughter, and I mentioned this observation to Ulises during a lull in conversation.
"I'm not sure 'ashamed' is quite the right word," he said, "More like... disappointed, maybe."
"Penelope seemed nice enough to me," I said.
"Well, Penelope inherited a few undesirable genes from both sides of the pedigree that manifested when she hit puberty. Nothing you can see but enough for her to be branded a canner. It's unfortunate, but it happens sometimes even with the best of bloodlines. She'd never be a competitive racer, and no one would ever want her for a dam. She had promised to have herself neutered as soon as she was properly old enough to give consent."
"But she's..."
"Yes, apparently she couldn't wait that long," Ulises lowered his voice, "and the worst part is, they say the sire's a jackass."
"Everyone! Everyone, may I have your attention please?" Hecuba's voice rang out suddenly from quite nearby in an authoritative voice that carried across the crowded room, "Penelope St. James has an announcement she'd like to make."
A semicircle of space cleared around where the two mares stood near one of the walls, and in the jostling Ulises and I ended up with a front row view.
With a helping hand from her mother, Penelope climbed up onto a table beneath one of the overhanging balconies, allowing her to look out over the room and be easily seen in turn. There was a pile of stuff at her hooves; I wasn't sure where it had come from. She looked around nervously, every eye in the room focused on her. "I..." she started and looked to Hecuba.
"Go on, Penelope. Tell them."
The young mare looked so ashamed and pathetic as she spoke; her voice sounded on the verge of breaking. "I'm sorry. I... I betrayed the breed. You deserved better from me. I won't be a nuisance any longer." Her eyes flickered to Hecuba and the older mare gave a nod of approval.
Penelope bent down and pulled a long leather belt from the pile at her hooves. She stretched tall to reach the balcony above and looped the belt around a sturdy wooden bannister of the balcony rail. She pulled the end through the buckle until the belt was snug around the column. She leaned on it, testing it with most of her weight and the leather held firm. There was a set of hobbles on the table and Penelope put those on her ankles; a pair of brown leather cuffs with soft sheepskin padding and embossed with a pattern of thorny roses, connected with a short metal chain. The pregnant young mare picked up a second belt and threaded it through a thick woolly leg warmer, navy blue to match her cardigan and skirt, and then looped it through its buckle before knotting this belt with a carrick bend to the loose end of the belt dangling from the balcony.
I was beginning to get a sense of what was going on, and I was hoping I was wrong. I whispered to Ulises, "Is she going to...?"
"Yes. It's the responsible thing to do."
"But here? In front of everyone?"
"She has to. This way everyone can see and know that she did it of her own free will, that her apology and her dedication to the integrity of the breed are sincere. If she did it in private, there would inevitably be gossip that Hecuba murdered her. Hecuba will not have that kind of scandal. I know it must seem strange to you, but it makes sense to us."
On the table, Penelope had slipped the loop of the second belt around her neck, the leg warmer providing padding against the front of her trembling throat. The buckle slid down to pinch her dark mane flat against the nape of her neck. Hecuba watched silently with an unconcerned air.
"What about Penelope's father? What does he have to say about this?" I asked Ulises.
"Samson? We, ah, we don't talk about him."
"Really? How come."
"He's no longer with us," Ulises was clearly trying to avoid saying it outright.
"Is he dead?" I pressed, dispensing with the euphemisms.
Ulises gave in. "He may as well be. He divorced Hecuba. She... well, she didn't take it very well. I've frequently told you how much influence she has in the community. Crossing her will make you equina non grata pretty quickly." Ulises lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but rumor has it these days he's dating an aardvark."
On the table, Penelope was fumbling behind her back with a pair of padded cuffs, eventually securing her wrists there. The poor mare was shaking with fright.
"Couldn't she run away?"
Ulises scoffed. "And go where? After what she's done, no thoroughbred would ever so much as spit on her again. Faced with the choice, any proper thoroughbred would choose death over exile. Samson may have been self-absorbed enough to cope with that, but it's no way for a herd animal to live."
Penelope shuffled her hooves to the edge of the table. She looked up at the belt tight around the bannister, then down to the floor, the rug only a few feet away and yet effectively as distant as the surface of the moon. She looked to her mother, her teary eyes in a miserable expression of pleading; it was hard to tell if her greater fear was of death or of her mother's wrath.
Hecuba nodded her head sharply, her meaning clear: 'Get on with it.'
"Trust me, it's better this way," Ulises concluded in a whisper, his gaze along with everyone else's impassively scrutinizing the self-ensnared mare.
Penelope turned away from Hecuba, her head bowed. The young mare wretchedly choked down one deep sobbing breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and stepped off the table.
If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget the sound of that pregnant young mare being sharply cut off mid-gasp as the belt snapped taut and cinched tight around her graceful neck. Her nostrils flared wide and her ears folded back in instinctual panic as the breath was abruptly jerked from her lungs. Her eyes rolled back until the whites showed, staring up at the creaking leather that was her self-imposed death sentence. She wheezed weakly through her gaping mouth, tiny choking noises escaping from deep within her crushed throat as her body sank deeper with every little movement into the terminal embrace of her noose.
Her hooves dangled, separated from the plush rug below by a scant few inches of air. Her fitfully twitching ankles tugged against the hobble that kept the panicked spasms of her muscles from becoming violent flailing kicks, maintaining the illusion of a dignified passing even as Penelope fought reflexively to prolong her life. Her wrists tugged against her cuffs behind her back, trying to reach her neck to relieve the horrible pressure that made it impossible to breathe. Her tail thrashed, rippling her plaid skirt, and her lips gaped open and shut in a futile bid to suck down precious air.
After a minute or so of this macabre dance, Hecuba gave a satisfied nod and turned away, not deigning to watch the agony of her daughter's final moments. The other assembled purebred equines made similar gestures of approval and returned to their conversations, as though this obscene display of self-destruction were nothing more than a minor interruption.
No one spared Penelope so much as a second glance after that, though she was still quite clearly alive even as the violence of her initial reflexes gave way to a resigned acceptance. Her eyes were open, and her protruding tongue was still vividly red, her limbs straining feebly against her bonds.
For my part I found myself quite unable to look away; I suppose it's the predator in me. I watched the poor mare die slowly over the course of half an hour, choking and halfheartedly squirming at the end of her padded leather noose as tears trickled down her cheeks. A thin foam of sweat flecked her neck as the muscles writhed beneath her chestnut hide and stained the wool of the leg warmer. The padding she had provided for herself saved her from the worst of the belt's harsh bite, but it also ensured the death she had condemned herself to would be a prolonged one. Perhaps it was what she believed she deserved.
"Cian," I heard Ulises's voice say as his hand came to rest on my shoulder.
"Hmm?"
"Cian, it's time for dinner. Let's go."
"But-" I started to protest. Penelope had shown hardly any signs of fading.
"Come on. She's not worth our attention anymore."
"We're just supposed to leave her like that?"
"She's not going anywhere."
"Can't we-?"
"No. Don't interfere with what's necessary, Cian, or Hecuba'll have us out on our tails. Not just out of the party, out of the herd. Cassandra, too."
I wanted to do something; if not to save her, then at least to hasten her passing. But the seriousness of Ulises's tone was clear. Trying to help Penelope would only make things worse for everyone.
"The canner's not worth it," Ulises finished, tugging gently on my shoulder.
Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be led to the dining room, a room as grand as the hall we'd just left where the tables had been set under the stern gazes of the portraits of ancestral thoroughbreds long gone.
During the multi-course vegetarian meal that followed, I was understandably distracted, and not just because none of the courses had anything I particularly wanted to eat. I don't even remember the name of the stallion Hecuba had seated Ulises and I next to, or what we spent the meal chatting about as the evening dragged on.
I excused myself from the dinner table probably sooner than was polite and hastily retreated to the grand hall; I felt compelled to see Penelope's corpse, to see the finality. As I had expected, there was no one else in the room, no one holding vigil over the demurely dressed mare hanged from the balcony. She seemed at peace with her fate, completely motionless. She hardly looked dead at all. Her tears had dried to a salt sheen on the chestnut hair of her cheeks, and there was a crust of dried spit around her blotchy purple lips and tongue. A faint fug of sweat hung in the air around her, the equine musk not completely unpleasant to my nose.
Then her brown eyes focused on me and we both started; to my shock Penelope was still alive. Now that I really looked I could see the feeble rise and fall of her chest beneath her blouse. She squirmed painfully, as though trying to shrink away and hide her shame from me. I suddenly felt very guilty intruding upon her private communion with death.
"I... I'm sorry. I thought you were... um... I'll just... I'll go..." I stuttered as I backed away.
A weak noise from the back of her throat made me pause. With great effort Penelope formed her parched lips around the words 'Don't go.'
I stepped closer and again our gazes met. Her sad brown eyes begged me to stay, and I understood. She had accepted her fate and was ready to face it, but she didn't want to be alone, even if it was only the company of a stranger.
I approached and reached behind her, taking her hand in my grasp. I received a feeble squeeze of gratitude in return and I was resolved. Even if her herd and her family had abandoned her, had turned their backs on her, I would not.
I don't know how long it took. I never left Penelope's side, her hand in mine, occasionally gently stroking her side or the woolly sleeve of her cardigan. I slid a hand up under her blouse where it had come untucked from her skirt and pressed my palm to the sweat-slicked hide of her squirming belly. I could feel the unborn mule valiantly struggling within, tragically unaware of how much trouble its unwanted conception had caused.
Eventually Penelope's bulging tongue slowly darkened to blue, her ears drooped limply against her skull, and her bright brown eyes dimmed and lost their focus. I watched until all signs of life drained from her and even her tail and hooves stopped their fitful twitching.
I smelled her bowels release and abruptly understood the purpose of the crinkling I had heard earlier in the evening, a lifetime ago; she had saved herself the indignity of soiling her skirt.
I held her pendulous body close and pressed my ear to her stomach, listening with my sharp lupine hearing to the last tiny heartbeats of her miscegenated fetus. It was the saddest sound I've ever heard.
Everything was serene and still. I looked up into her glassy staring eyes and knew that she was at last truly at peace. I was heartbroken that I had not been able to do anything to ease her pain, but also consoled that I had been able to give her the comfort of my kindness in her dying moments. "You poor girl," I whispered.
"Don't feel sorry for her, Cian," Hecuba said from behind me; I had not even known she was there.
I turned to face her. "How can you say that? She's your daughter."
"I appreciate your concern, but it's unwarranted. I have other produce; my bloodline is safe," she said calmly as Ulises came into the room beside her.
"No, I mean how can you be so..." I struggled to find the right word without insulting my hostess, "nonchalant?"
"Because, Cian, it had to be done. You know she was forbidden from breeding. If she can't keep her thighs shut for a common donkey, how could she be expected to resist the allure of a thoroughbred stallion? No one in the community would be able to trust her, nor, by extension, trust me. She never had value as a racer, never had value to the bloodline, and without the trust of the community she had no value at all. She was a waste."
"But..." I looked to Ulises to back me up.
The stallion merely shrugged, and said "It's necessary for the good of the breed."
I looked back to Hecuba. "But..." I couldn't form my buzzing thoughts into words. Penelope was a person. An individual. She had worth. I'd only just met her and I could see that. How could the whole breed be so blind as to see nothing but bloodlines? "She..." I stammered.
"She made her choices, Cian, and she knew those choices would have dire consequences. She has no one to blame but herself," Hecuba said with a finality of tone that said she had no interest in discussing the matter any further. "Now, I do have the renderer scheduled to come by tomorrow morning to pick that up, but in the meantime perhaps I could tempt you to some fresh veal?"
My eyes widened in shock at the implication. I looked from the indifferent older mare to the body of her daughter, the young mare's gravid belly sagging heavily with dead weight, bulging against the buttons of her blouse. I looked back to Hecuba. I realized the scent of fresh death filling my lupine nostrils was involuntarily making me drool a little.
Hecuba smiled knowingly. Ulises nodded encouragingly.
"I couldn't..."
"We won't mind, I assure you."
I looked back. Penelope was dead, and I knew it was too late to change that. Clearly the morality of what we had all just witnessed was unquestioned by the thoroughbreds; my disquiet put me plainly in the minority. The irony of me being a carnivore was not lost on me, but I was a poor excuse for one - my meat came from the grocery store. And despite my best efforts all the vegetable hors d'oeuvres in the world were never an adequate meal. And wouldn't it be rude to refuse my hostess's hospitality? My canine stomach, blind to my moral crisis, growled at the thought.
"I can personally vouch that she was perfectly sound," Penelope added.
"You could even take some home in a doggy bag," Ulises teased.
Ah, what the heck. "Waste not, want not. I'd be delighted."
by Kinto Mythostian
I handed my jacket to the doorman and adjusted my necktie in the mirror. "How do I look?" I asked my companion.
"You look fine, Cian," Ulises told me, "Relax."
"I didn't have much time to prepare. I want to make a good impression."
"You and I have been together, what? Almost two years, now? Hecuba keeps asking me when everyone will finally get to meet you, and she was thrilled when I asked this morning if I could bring you over tonight."
"I really shouldn't be here. This is yours and Cassandra's thing-"
"But her flight home was cancelled, and I'm not showing up to one of Hecuba's parties without some smoking hot arm candy," Ulises teased, "Don't think of yourself as an interloper. Think of yourself as exotic."
"Ha. I'll bet you can count on your toes the number of non-equines you've seen at one of these thoroughbred shindigs."
Ulises looked at his solid hooves and cracked a grin. "You've got me there. We don't often let outsiders in. But just stick by my side and it'll all be smooth turf."
Sure enough, as a wolf I stood out amongst the crowd of hot-blood horses like goldenrod in a rose garden. My sharp fanged muzzle, clawed paws, and thick white fur were the subject of more than a few critical equine glares as we entered the crowded room, but they lightened significantly when they saw the tall white horse I was with. Everyone knew Ulises; in fact, everyone knew everyone. The thoroughbred community was notoriously tightknit.
The manse's main hall was appropriately grand in the traditional fashion, looking something like a barn would if it had been designed by L. C. Tiffany. The space was two stories tall, ringed on three walls by second floor balconies with thick dark wood used for columns, bannisters, and paneling. An intricate skylight made up of thousands of small panes of stained glass arched over the space, reflecting back into the room the light from the ornate iron chandeliers. Heavy tapestries hung along the walls muted the echoes of the crowded hubbub milling around the floor where thick rugs over the parquet muffled the guests' hoofsteps. And what a crowd it was; I'd never seen so many thoroughbreds in one place outside of derby weekend.
"Ulises! It's so good to see you!" I was still taking it all in when a chestnut mare with a mane and hide nearly as red as the sleeveless gown she wore swept towards us; she and Ulises kissed each other on the cheek.
"I wouldn't dream of missing one of your soirees, Hecuba," Ulises said with a sincere smile. "Hecuba, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Cian Quill. Cian, this is Ms. Hecuba Berkshire St. James."
"Hello, Mr. Quill, and welcome to my home. I am so glad to finally meet you. Ulises and Cassandra speak very highly of you."
"Call me Cian, please, Ms. St. James. I've heard so much about you, it's a pleasure to finally put a face to the name."
"And you may call me Hecuba, Cian. I do hope you'll enjoy yourself, though I'm afraid we may not have much to offer you to eat. It was rather short notice, and I can't recall the last time I've had an obligate carnivore in my home."
"I'll be fine, I'm sure. It won't be the first time I've had to fight for survival using only my wits and vegetable hors d'oeuvres."
Hecuba chuckled merrily as another mare shyly walked up to our trio.
"And who is this lovely lady?" I asked.
I knew enough about the breed to instantly recognize her as a thoroughbred, less than a hand taller than our host though still quite young, probably in her teens. Her hide was a rich red-brown like Hecuba's, though her mane and tail were dark, almost black, and a thin white stripe bisected her long equine face. She wore a crisp white blouse, an unbuttoned navy blue cardigan, and a knee-length navy blue plaid skirt. At first glance, I thought she was wearing short white socks on her ankles before I realized they were her natural markings. She was also very heavily pregnant, which surprised me; thoroughbreds rarely bred while they were still in prime racing age.
"This is Penelope," Hecuba said without any discernible enthusiasm, "my produce. Penelope, this is Mr. Quill."
"Hello, Mr. Quill," she mumbled, her gaze directed towards the carpeted floor, "Hello, Mr. Villacaballo Fuentes," she mumbled to Ulises.
"Hecuba tells me you have something special planned for tonight," Ulises said, "Most people wouldn't have the integrity to own up to their mistake like this. It's very mature of you."
Penelope didn't respond, her brown eyes fixed on her hooves and one hand resting on her gravid belly.
"Why the long face?" I joked in an effort to tease a smile from the incongruously morose mare.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as though wincing in pain and looked sadly to her mother.
"Well, I don't want to monopolize your time, gentlemen. Come along, Penelope," Hecuba said before sweeping away to greet the newest arrivals.
Penelope crinkled as mother and daughter walked away; I was puzzled for a moment before recalling that pregnancy could cause the side effect of incontinence. Couldn't it? I vaguely remembered having heard or read something like that once. I caught a snippet of their conversation before they vanished into the crowd.
"Penelope, I told you to wait in your room."
"Dam, please, do I really have to-"
"It was your decision, remember? We are not having this conversation again-"
I put it out of my mind and practiced my mingling, and there was a lot of mingling to do. Nearly everyone Ulises introduced me to was a name I recognized from the newspapers and magazines he and Cassandra brought home, all of them champions and superstars, heroes of the turf course and of the steeplechase.
I wasn't sure at first how much they knew about Ulises and I, and the arrangement we had with his wife, but it soon became clear that everyone knew everything, even if they were far too polite to say so explicitly. Gossip was currency among the thoroughbreds, and our not-very-secret was very well circulated. Ulises had assured me long ago that no one would mind what he and I did with each other as long as he and Cassandra kept the breed going, but this was the first big opportunity I'd had to verify this opinion. I had a grand time entertaining myself by peppering conversations with subtle innuendos and watching for the telltale signs of embarrassment that this prompted.
Hecuba, meanwhile, could frequently be seen gliding through the crowd and introducing certain young mares to certain young stallions. Penelope, however, had disappeared. It almost seemed like Hecuba was ashamed of her daughter, and I mentioned this observation to Ulises during a lull in conversation.
"I'm not sure 'ashamed' is quite the right word," he said, "More like... disappointed, maybe."
"Penelope seemed nice enough to me," I said.
"Well, Penelope inherited a few undesirable genes from both sides of the pedigree that manifested when she hit puberty. Nothing you can see but enough for her to be branded a canner. It's unfortunate, but it happens sometimes even with the best of bloodlines. She'd never be a competitive racer, and no one would ever want her for a dam. She had promised to have herself neutered as soon as she was properly old enough to give consent."
"But she's..."
"Yes, apparently she couldn't wait that long," Ulises lowered his voice, "and the worst part is, they say the sire's a jackass."
"Everyone! Everyone, may I have your attention please?" Hecuba's voice rang out suddenly from quite nearby in an authoritative voice that carried across the crowded room, "Penelope St. James has an announcement she'd like to make."
A semicircle of space cleared around where the two mares stood near one of the walls, and in the jostling Ulises and I ended up with a front row view.
With a helping hand from her mother, Penelope climbed up onto a table beneath one of the overhanging balconies, allowing her to look out over the room and be easily seen in turn. There was a pile of stuff at her hooves; I wasn't sure where it had come from. She looked around nervously, every eye in the room focused on her. "I..." she started and looked to Hecuba.
"Go on, Penelope. Tell them."
The young mare looked so ashamed and pathetic as she spoke; her voice sounded on the verge of breaking. "I'm sorry. I... I betrayed the breed. You deserved better from me. I won't be a nuisance any longer." Her eyes flickered to Hecuba and the older mare gave a nod of approval.
Penelope bent down and pulled a long leather belt from the pile at her hooves. She stretched tall to reach the balcony above and looped the belt around a sturdy wooden bannister of the balcony rail. She pulled the end through the buckle until the belt was snug around the column. She leaned on it, testing it with most of her weight and the leather held firm. There was a set of hobbles on the table and Penelope put those on her ankles; a pair of brown leather cuffs with soft sheepskin padding and embossed with a pattern of thorny roses, connected with a short metal chain. The pregnant young mare picked up a second belt and threaded it through a thick woolly leg warmer, navy blue to match her cardigan and skirt, and then looped it through its buckle before knotting this belt with a carrick bend to the loose end of the belt dangling from the balcony.
I was beginning to get a sense of what was going on, and I was hoping I was wrong. I whispered to Ulises, "Is she going to...?"
"Yes. It's the responsible thing to do."
"But here? In front of everyone?"
"She has to. This way everyone can see and know that she did it of her own free will, that her apology and her dedication to the integrity of the breed are sincere. If she did it in private, there would inevitably be gossip that Hecuba murdered her. Hecuba will not have that kind of scandal. I know it must seem strange to you, but it makes sense to us."
On the table, Penelope had slipped the loop of the second belt around her neck, the leg warmer providing padding against the front of her trembling throat. The buckle slid down to pinch her dark mane flat against the nape of her neck. Hecuba watched silently with an unconcerned air.
"What about Penelope's father? What does he have to say about this?" I asked Ulises.
"Samson? We, ah, we don't talk about him."
"Really? How come."
"He's no longer with us," Ulises was clearly trying to avoid saying it outright.
"Is he dead?" I pressed, dispensing with the euphemisms.
Ulises gave in. "He may as well be. He divorced Hecuba. She... well, she didn't take it very well. I've frequently told you how much influence she has in the community. Crossing her will make you equina non grata pretty quickly." Ulises lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but rumor has it these days he's dating an aardvark."
On the table, Penelope was fumbling behind her back with a pair of padded cuffs, eventually securing her wrists there. The poor mare was shaking with fright.
"Couldn't she run away?"
Ulises scoffed. "And go where? After what she's done, no thoroughbred would ever so much as spit on her again. Faced with the choice, any proper thoroughbred would choose death over exile. Samson may have been self-absorbed enough to cope with that, but it's no way for a herd animal to live."
Penelope shuffled her hooves to the edge of the table. She looked up at the belt tight around the bannister, then down to the floor, the rug only a few feet away and yet effectively as distant as the surface of the moon. She looked to her mother, her teary eyes in a miserable expression of pleading; it was hard to tell if her greater fear was of death or of her mother's wrath.
Hecuba nodded her head sharply, her meaning clear: 'Get on with it.'
"Trust me, it's better this way," Ulises concluded in a whisper, his gaze along with everyone else's impassively scrutinizing the self-ensnared mare.
Penelope turned away from Hecuba, her head bowed. The young mare wretchedly choked down one deep sobbing breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and stepped off the table.
If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget the sound of that pregnant young mare being sharply cut off mid-gasp as the belt snapped taut and cinched tight around her graceful neck. Her nostrils flared wide and her ears folded back in instinctual panic as the breath was abruptly jerked from her lungs. Her eyes rolled back until the whites showed, staring up at the creaking leather that was her self-imposed death sentence. She wheezed weakly through her gaping mouth, tiny choking noises escaping from deep within her crushed throat as her body sank deeper with every little movement into the terminal embrace of her noose.
Her hooves dangled, separated from the plush rug below by a scant few inches of air. Her fitfully twitching ankles tugged against the hobble that kept the panicked spasms of her muscles from becoming violent flailing kicks, maintaining the illusion of a dignified passing even as Penelope fought reflexively to prolong her life. Her wrists tugged against her cuffs behind her back, trying to reach her neck to relieve the horrible pressure that made it impossible to breathe. Her tail thrashed, rippling her plaid skirt, and her lips gaped open and shut in a futile bid to suck down precious air.
After a minute or so of this macabre dance, Hecuba gave a satisfied nod and turned away, not deigning to watch the agony of her daughter's final moments. The other assembled purebred equines made similar gestures of approval and returned to their conversations, as though this obscene display of self-destruction were nothing more than a minor interruption.
No one spared Penelope so much as a second glance after that, though she was still quite clearly alive even as the violence of her initial reflexes gave way to a resigned acceptance. Her eyes were open, and her protruding tongue was still vividly red, her limbs straining feebly against her bonds.
For my part I found myself quite unable to look away; I suppose it's the predator in me. I watched the poor mare die slowly over the course of half an hour, choking and halfheartedly squirming at the end of her padded leather noose as tears trickled down her cheeks. A thin foam of sweat flecked her neck as the muscles writhed beneath her chestnut hide and stained the wool of the leg warmer. The padding she had provided for herself saved her from the worst of the belt's harsh bite, but it also ensured the death she had condemned herself to would be a prolonged one. Perhaps it was what she believed she deserved.
"Cian," I heard Ulises's voice say as his hand came to rest on my shoulder.
"Hmm?"
"Cian, it's time for dinner. Let's go."
"But-" I started to protest. Penelope had shown hardly any signs of fading.
"Come on. She's not worth our attention anymore."
"We're just supposed to leave her like that?"
"She's not going anywhere."
"Can't we-?"
"No. Don't interfere with what's necessary, Cian, or Hecuba'll have us out on our tails. Not just out of the party, out of the herd. Cassandra, too."
I wanted to do something; if not to save her, then at least to hasten her passing. But the seriousness of Ulises's tone was clear. Trying to help Penelope would only make things worse for everyone.
"The canner's not worth it," Ulises finished, tugging gently on my shoulder.
Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be led to the dining room, a room as grand as the hall we'd just left where the tables had been set under the stern gazes of the portraits of ancestral thoroughbreds long gone.
During the multi-course vegetarian meal that followed, I was understandably distracted, and not just because none of the courses had anything I particularly wanted to eat. I don't even remember the name of the stallion Hecuba had seated Ulises and I next to, or what we spent the meal chatting about as the evening dragged on.
I excused myself from the dinner table probably sooner than was polite and hastily retreated to the grand hall; I felt compelled to see Penelope's corpse, to see the finality. As I had expected, there was no one else in the room, no one holding vigil over the demurely dressed mare hanged from the balcony. She seemed at peace with her fate, completely motionless. She hardly looked dead at all. Her tears had dried to a salt sheen on the chestnut hair of her cheeks, and there was a crust of dried spit around her blotchy purple lips and tongue. A faint fug of sweat hung in the air around her, the equine musk not completely unpleasant to my nose.
Then her brown eyes focused on me and we both started; to my shock Penelope was still alive. Now that I really looked I could see the feeble rise and fall of her chest beneath her blouse. She squirmed painfully, as though trying to shrink away and hide her shame from me. I suddenly felt very guilty intruding upon her private communion with death.
"I... I'm sorry. I thought you were... um... I'll just... I'll go..." I stuttered as I backed away.
A weak noise from the back of her throat made me pause. With great effort Penelope formed her parched lips around the words 'Don't go.'
I stepped closer and again our gazes met. Her sad brown eyes begged me to stay, and I understood. She had accepted her fate and was ready to face it, but she didn't want to be alone, even if it was only the company of a stranger.
I approached and reached behind her, taking her hand in my grasp. I received a feeble squeeze of gratitude in return and I was resolved. Even if her herd and her family had abandoned her, had turned their backs on her, I would not.
I don't know how long it took. I never left Penelope's side, her hand in mine, occasionally gently stroking her side or the woolly sleeve of her cardigan. I slid a hand up under her blouse where it had come untucked from her skirt and pressed my palm to the sweat-slicked hide of her squirming belly. I could feel the unborn mule valiantly struggling within, tragically unaware of how much trouble its unwanted conception had caused.
Eventually Penelope's bulging tongue slowly darkened to blue, her ears drooped limply against her skull, and her bright brown eyes dimmed and lost their focus. I watched until all signs of life drained from her and even her tail and hooves stopped their fitful twitching.
I smelled her bowels release and abruptly understood the purpose of the crinkling I had heard earlier in the evening, a lifetime ago; she had saved herself the indignity of soiling her skirt.
I held her pendulous body close and pressed my ear to her stomach, listening with my sharp lupine hearing to the last tiny heartbeats of her miscegenated fetus. It was the saddest sound I've ever heard.
Everything was serene and still. I looked up into her glassy staring eyes and knew that she was at last truly at peace. I was heartbroken that I had not been able to do anything to ease her pain, but also consoled that I had been able to give her the comfort of my kindness in her dying moments. "You poor girl," I whispered.
"Don't feel sorry for her, Cian," Hecuba said from behind me; I had not even known she was there.
I turned to face her. "How can you say that? She's your daughter."
"I appreciate your concern, but it's unwarranted. I have other produce; my bloodline is safe," she said calmly as Ulises came into the room beside her.
"No, I mean how can you be so..." I struggled to find the right word without insulting my hostess, "nonchalant?"
"Because, Cian, it had to be done. You know she was forbidden from breeding. If she can't keep her thighs shut for a common donkey, how could she be expected to resist the allure of a thoroughbred stallion? No one in the community would be able to trust her, nor, by extension, trust me. She never had value as a racer, never had value to the bloodline, and without the trust of the community she had no value at all. She was a waste."
"But..." I looked to Ulises to back me up.
The stallion merely shrugged, and said "It's necessary for the good of the breed."
I looked back to Hecuba. "But..." I couldn't form my buzzing thoughts into words. Penelope was a person. An individual. She had worth. I'd only just met her and I could see that. How could the whole breed be so blind as to see nothing but bloodlines? "She..." I stammered.
"She made her choices, Cian, and she knew those choices would have dire consequences. She has no one to blame but herself," Hecuba said with a finality of tone that said she had no interest in discussing the matter any further. "Now, I do have the renderer scheduled to come by tomorrow morning to pick that up, but in the meantime perhaps I could tempt you to some fresh veal?"
My eyes widened in shock at the implication. I looked from the indifferent older mare to the body of her daughter, the young mare's gravid belly sagging heavily with dead weight, bulging against the buttons of her blouse. I looked back to Hecuba. I realized the scent of fresh death filling my lupine nostrils was involuntarily making me drool a little.
Hecuba smiled knowingly. Ulises nodded encouragingly.
"I couldn't..."
"We won't mind, I assure you."
I looked back. Penelope was dead, and I knew it was too late to change that. Clearly the morality of what we had all just witnessed was unquestioned by the thoroughbreds; my disquiet put me plainly in the minority. The irony of me being a carnivore was not lost on me, but I was a poor excuse for one - my meat came from the grocery store. And despite my best efforts all the vegetable hors d'oeuvres in the world were never an adequate meal. And wouldn't it be rude to refuse my hostess's hospitality? My canine stomach, blind to my moral crisis, growled at the thought.
"I can personally vouch that she was perfectly sound," Penelope added.
"You could even take some home in a doggy bag," Ulises teased.
Ah, what the heck. "Waste not, want not. I'd be delighted."
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2018
Its been a while since something on this thread made me want to bleach my eyes out, and I did not think a story of all things would be it.
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
I actually chuckled at this.
The author tried so hard to make the protagonist seem like a human being. They just couldn't resist projecting themselves onto him at the end.
- Joined
- Sep 19, 2013
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2020
God I wish that were me
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2019
Somehow, stories always hit me worse than pictures
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2020
Great, these stories have eugenics in them too. They're all such hellhole dystopias beyond the surface.
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2016
There’s something about how reading a story requires you to get so much more involved that makes it so much worse.
This actually reminds me a lot of the “honor killings” that still happen in Indian culture, where the father kills the daughter after she disgraces the family name.
I kind of felt a little for the main character, and thought there might be a message here.....
Right up until he was all “yeah, sure, what the heck, I’ll take some baby to go, don’t wanna be impolite!”
People are fapping to this. People are getting off to the daughter killing herself, aren’t they?
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2019
Can any brave souls give us a plot synopsis? Because I'm not opening this even if you paid me.
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2019
If being against this means I'm a Fascist, then I'm happy.
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2016
A wolf is invited to a thoroughbred racing’s horses dinner party because he’s boning the main horse. (Dont worry, they have an arraingement with the horses wife)
He meets a young teenage horse who is preggerz. Really preggerz.
He learns she’s been undesirable since her literal birth, and her father (the horse he’s boning) refers to her as produce, also, the baby daddy is a literal jackass. (Lol)
Blah blah blah she never had the makings of a varsity race horse.
Anyways, she hangs herself in front of everyone in atonement, all the horses are happy, the wolf is uncomfortable.
The horses go on to their dinner, while the wolf dude returns to hold the dying horses hand while she takes her final breath and shits herself.
Her father than offers the wolf dude some “veil” to go in a doggy bag. (Use your imagination)
He accepts because why not.
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2019
I regret asking anything
Who wants to bet this guys jacks it to seeing shit like gas chambers and Auschwitz?
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2019
I mean it isn't like furries are literally mentally ill.I regret asking anything
Who wants to bet this guys jacks it to seeing shit like gas chambers and Auschwitz?