Mink Farm Revenge

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The door opened. Fear ran through the hall like a wind of terror. No one even breathed. Steps. Slowly down the path. A snort. He stopped. The Man. The man of death. She made herself as small as possible. The man was standing in front of her cage. They were five now, and they were crawling on top of each other, biting each other, eating each other. They had been up to ten in the small cage. One was lying dead in the corner. He had been dead for quite a while. He was starting to smell.

A cage door opened. It was the neighbour cage. A mink was pulled out. Screaming, fighting. Another nameless animal was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do. He was carried over to the death-pole, put it up his rectum. Electricity made him shiver for a moment. Then he died. He was flayed, and the skin was thrown in a bag. The rest was thrown in another container, already stuffed, and it smelled of rotting meat. Everything smelled of rotting meat.

The Man left snorting his nose, spitting in the meat pile. There had to be at least a hundred dead minks in there.

The farm was a hell of suffering. Every animal was just waiting to be murdered in overstuffed cages. They were biting each other, sometimes to death. The dead minks often lay there for days.

Her sister had been chewing on her own leg for quite a while, and lately she had been chewing on her sister’s leg as well, ravished by madness. Her sister was in horrific pain.

Suddenly number five heard some strange noises from the pile of skinned bodies. She looked over curiously. She didn’t know much about anything, and death was really a bit beyond her possibilities of understanding, but even so, a skinned mink should not move. Her instincts were screaming this should not happen. They were moaning in pain, moving in a strange way. The Man came into the hall again. He was big. He went over to the cages. She cowered in fear. He open her cage this time. Grabbed her. Carried her over to the corner of death. She fought bravely, but he was way too strong. He took the pole. Held it in his hand, looking at her in a strange way. He seemed to enjoy it.

Ouch! He said. A dead mink had bitten his leg. What the fuck…? He kicked the carcass to the other side of the room. But there were more. They were crawling on the floor, pouring out of the container. He dropped number five. She jumped over the the skinless animals. She was even more afraid of them than of the Man. She pressed herself into a corner. The man was kicking away the carcasses, but they were too many. They were climbing up on him, jumping onto him from top of the cages. Covered with bloody pieces of meat he fell. They were biting him. Tearing his clothes off. Eating his skin.

One tried to pick up the electrifier. It was too heavy. Two others came to help. The rest held the screaming farmer down as they showed it up his arsehole. He was shaking, making strange noises. 

His wife came, opened the door. She had heard her husband’s screams. She screamed as well when she saw the horrible sight of her man flayed on the floor.

Help me-ee… he managed to say dying.

The zombie minks charged at her. She fell. Our mink ran out the open door and into the forest never to come back. Behind her she could hear the screams of the butcher’s wife further and further away.

One link for fun https://flash-365.com/2016/10/21/the-fox-and-the-bear/

and one for information http://www.furfreealliance.com/fur-farming/

Keep reading The End of Days

 

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