I knew, even at my young age, that the surgery meant I was going to be judged as the least of all ponies. A gelding in a pegasus family is often due to the fact that we are exceptionally fast flyers. No more drag, and less weight means we can achieve incredible velocities.

I've even heard of some parents amputating their filly's mammary glands to increase their speed. But, at least they are still treated like ponies.

Racing is important to us. The Gelding Grand Prix is amongst Cloudsdale's biggest events. All pegasus clans aspire to enter their geldings for the fame a fortune that comes with simply being a part of it. That is, if we managed to pass or even survive the rigorous and potentially deadly tracks that they would never allow a whole stallion to take part in.

Until you make it to the Gelding Grand Prix, victory is everything. The losers lose their wings.

After your wings are sheered, off, you are return to the family. Your fate can go one of three ways, after that.

Best case scenario, you'll be kept around as a servant for the rest of your life. You would be treated lower than a pet, but they would feed and keep you healthy.

Less favorable, you'll be abandoned. A lone gelding is fair game for the wilds and anyone just looking to be cruel. If you were set upon by wolves, not even the guards would attempt to help you unless a master asked them to do so.

Worst case scenario, you'll be hung by the neck until dead as a warning to the next geldings your family train to take your place in their pursuit of fame and fortune.

All geldings who participate in the Gelding Grand Prix, and manage to survive, are drafted into the military due to their proven speed. This is the only dream a racing pegasus gelding is allowed to dream. A lifetime in service to the princesses.

A dream I would never achieve.

My body twitched as my father hoisted me up by the rough rope wrapped about my neck. My two younger brothers, both gelded, were forced to watch as I kicked and choked.

It was my third race, I was in the lead. But one of the geldings behind me managed to catch up and buck me into a wall as we came around a corner just a few meters from the finish line. It cost me my wings, cut off with a rotary saw, and now it was costing me my life, as my father hoisted my wingless body up to the beam.

The last thing a saw before my vision faded and I passed out was my mother's sneer at my failure.