Winston arrived at a solution to the moral decay of his town.

He called out to hell, and hell answered. The human body could, hell promised, be twisted and stretched into a kinder, more equine shape. Winston's town, now filled with ignorant hate-mongers, could instead be filled with magical ponies, if he could provide a factory in which to make them. Winston thought they would be beautiful, gentle, and good.

Hell had other plans...

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