toranistheauthor

[toranistheauthor]

Fluffy Garments - The Foreman part 2

Fluffy Garments - The Foreman part 2 http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/   http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author   http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/   Warning:  This story contains fluffies suffering and death.  Viewer discretion is advised. * click * * A tired looking, slightly overweight, slightly balding man of about 40 walks past the camera and sits down on the edge of a bed, facing it. * Where the hell was I?  It's been three days since my last confession, and yeah, I've sinned.  So fucking what, haven't you?  I shoulda looked at the last file... where'd we leave off?  Lesse... covered the startup, covered day to day shit... milk bags... hated those fuckin' things...  I didn't say nothin' 'bout production yet did I? Simple shit, I barely had a hand in it.  An order would come in from building two and we'd fish out the fluffies that fit the bill, with a color sample and everything.  So lets say you need four blue ones.  We'd get the file and one of those paint sample things with a number picked out.  Then someone'd go an' grab four blue fluffies that matched the color closest, that's why we needed a lotta every color.  You'd toss 'em into the cart and wheel it over to the electric chair. Wasn't an actual chair of course.  It was mostly wood with holes where you'd thread the legs in so they couldn't get out an' a board you'd clamp down to hold their head still.  Then the executioner on duty would hold two metal prods against it's temples and step on a foot pedal, zap!  Dunno how many volts it was but the lights in that part of the building dimmed every time he fried one.  Took about four or five seconds of that to make sure they were gone but the funny part was how they'd always dump ass and the crazy sounds they'd make. Every one of 'em would be whinin' and bichin' by the time you got 'em in the electric chair.  When he poured on the juice, for some fucked up reason they'd keep on makin' the last sound they made the whole time they got zapped.  So if it was makin' an N sound it'd go nnnnnnnnn 'till he stopped.  Or aaaaaaa or whatever.  Hilarious the first couple times ya see it but gets old real fast. One executioner was a real prick too, sometimes he'd give 'em just two or three seconds so when the skinners got their hands on 'em they'd start thrashin' an' screechin' like mad half way through the fuckin' job!  Asshole.  He'd always wave an' say sorry but you could tell it was on purpose by that shit eatin' grin.  It took me a while to figure out why he was bein' such a prick, but as it turns out the answer was the races.  He always bet on the ponies come payday and if things worked out, every fluffy got fried right.  If not he'd fuck with 'em.  Not zap 'em long enough, or do it through their hooves so they'd scream instead of die, shit like that. You're probably thinkin' we'd have a hard time findin' guys fucked up enough to kill those little bastards, lookin' up at you with those gigantic eyes an' beggin' for their lives.  And you'd be fuckin' wrong.  This is the Big Apple, we got fluffies up to our asses and a fuckton of whackjobs that should be on medication.  Hell, yer' probably lookin' at one right now. And that shithead I mentioned earlier?  I'da fired his ass for making the skinners job harder but the son of a bitch was friends with Mikhailo himself!  Supposedly even asked for that very job.  One of those types. So they get zapped right if they're lucky and eat it right there.  Then he tosses the corpse onto a conveyor that runs it down to the skinners.  These are the guys that got the big bucks, it takes some skill to skin a fluffy in fifteen seconds and not put a hole where you don't want it.  After they're peeled like a banana the skin goes one way while the body goes another.  They got chopped up and shipped off to some dog food place, I think I mentioned that last time.  The skin gets sent into the chemical vats for tanning an' processing, then hung out to dry.  After a couple days it's ready to go, the file gets sent back to building two along with however many pelts they wanted and that's it.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Thing is the cage row closest to our electric chair an' the skinnin' tables can see everything that's goin' on behind 'em, there's no wall or anything.  Heh, those ones always acted a little "different" than the rest, I mean they all could hear the screams when the executioner fucked up, probably on purpose, but only the third row could really see what was happening.  And you know what?  Once we put a fluffy into that row they'd develop this habit of always facing forward all the time.  They'd NEVER turn around, not for nothin'.  I should say most of 'em never looked, those that did usually went nuts.  After a few dams cracked and shit out their kids early we had to switch things so breeders were against the far wall, milk bags an' foals in the middle an' the freshly weaned ones we were fattenin' up for skinnin' went to row three.  After two weeks of all the milk they could drink that is.  Doesn't take fluffies much longer'n that to reach full size, especially on the hormone and vitamin enriched stuff the mlik bags dished out. By then most of 'em knew the score, they knew there was lotsa fluffies gettin' killed and skinned right behind 'em.  Just to keep the whining down we told 'em only bad fluffies got taken away cuz' they knew what that meant.  When someone came callin' for the right shade they'd all push and shove each other to the front, tryin' to get their friends picked instead of themselves.  The night before they'd slept layin' on top of each other, all hugs and playin' an' shit but when we rolled the cart in, it's every fluffy for themselves.  So much for friends, hugs and love like those shitty commercials said huh?  Remember that?  The ads Hasbro flooded the airwaves with those first few months during the official launch?  Anyone that's spent time with the little fuckers knows the real score, most don't give two shits about their "friends".  They'd sell each other out for another day, a shitty ball or the promise of spaghetti that, of course, never came. Well that was the process, and it went good for a couple years.  We had our shit down to a science; on the off chance we didn't have the right colors that moment then someone'd go to the breeders or shelters and find it.  Never once did we have to tell the boss no, not in two years.  And speak of the devil, he's like a fuckin' hero.  Those fashion tv shows even toured his "studio" where they put the clothes together.  Funny how they never came 'round to Attica, our neck of the woods.  Not that I give two shits, even my mom said I had a face made for radio.  Watchin' fluffies screech while some mook ripped their skin off mighta' turned off john Q public.  Heh. Okay, we're chuggin' along, everythings fine, no worries.  But the boss is never happy, he's always tinkerin' with shit, like a scab ya can't stop pickin' at.  Yakiv's pleased as a pig in shit but Mikhailo wants the spotlight back.  He wants the next big thing, again.  After a few months of fartin' around and getting jack done he hops a plane back home to the Ukraine, has all his people in building two fill the orders and we don't hear diddly for months.  It's like half a year or somethin' before he's back in the U.S. and I swear to God nobody, NOBODY could've seen what was coming next.

[toranistheauthor]

Babbeh part 6

Babbeh part 6 http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/   http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author   http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ Warning:  This story contains fluffies suffering and death.  Viewer discretion is advised. Since it's been a while, you can find all the other chapters in my Pastebin, Tumblr and Deviantart accounts. "Good morning ladies!" "Nummies!  Haf nummies nao?" "Newl need make miwkies fo' gud babbehs, pwease gif wots nummies." You're a baby fluffy pony, just over four days old, not that you'd know anything about that. And you feel terrible. Awoken by a loud thud, you instinctively ducked down and covered your head so whatever monster made that noise doesn't find you. Mommy must have been scared too, she's gripping you hard against her body. It makes your leg sore, a really scary hooman gave it hurties for no reason last bright time. To top it all off, your tummy hurts sooooo much! You need milk, that's what makes the tummy hurties better but mommy isn't letting go despite your asking nicely. "Hooban mummeh huwt nu, mummeh huwt miwick." Now you feel even worse, your words didn't work again. Dummy words, they never come out like you tell them to! That makes you upset, which makes your belly hurts even more hurty. The world goes light with a clicking noise, but you can barely tell with mommy's hoof over you. It's normally your favorite place to be, but sometime last night you un-drank your milk again and it feels icky all over. Looks like your brother and sister are in the same situation, they're covered in yikky un-drank milk and crying a bit. More than anything you just want some milk, that'll make everything ok. "How's everyone this morning?  Hungry I bet, but it's weighing day so let's take care of that first." "Wan' nummies!  Fwuffy sooooo hungies!" "Nu wan' foodies, fwuffy tummy huwties." "Hewwo nice hooman!  Come pway wif Giwwy an' babbehs?" "Zzzzzz *snore* Zzzzzz" *whisper* "Babbehs be gud, munsta nu fin' babbehs in mummeh's fwuff." That was mommy. "Pwease nummies fiwst?  Babbehs need miwkies, mummeh need nummies fo' miwkies!" "Lemme get my earplugs in first and we'll begin." All the conversation going on around you is little more than background noise. You want to work your way down to mommy's teats and drink until the hurting stops. But the hooman's voice triggers something. You remember. Eyes. Cold, horrible eyes drilling right through you. Being high in the air with nothing around but a strange hooman hoof and her terrible eyes. The worst pain, the worst horror you've ever experienced... This hoomans's voice is different but that doesn't matter, you try digging down even deeper into mommy's fluff to hide. The hurties in your leg make you cry out like sissy does sometimes, but fear is motivation enough to keep on worming down through the yikky, un-drank milk covered fluff. "Calm down, calm down.  Every fluffy will get fed soon enough.  For now just be good and let me weigh your babies, maybe you'll get a little extra kibble today if every fluffy is nice." "Am gud fwuffy!" "Zzzzzzz" "Nu take babbehs, dey get cowd.  Babbehs stay wif mummeh pwease!" "Foodies!  Pwease gif nummies, fwuffy soooo hungies!" "It's always about your stomach, isn't it Marble?  Let me see your babies for a second and you'll get fed right after we're done." "Mawble babbehs too smaw!  Need wotsa foodies fo' miwkies, pwease gif moar nummies nice hooman?" "Pway wif Giwwy!  Pway wif Giwwy babbehs!  Pwease pway?  Giwwy wuv gud hooman!" "... Right.  Changed your tune again Gilly?  I'll get to you soon so just be patient." "Gonna pway wif babbehs, pway wif hooman, Giwwy wan' pway aw day!" Mommy rolled onto her side, putting herself between you and the hooman monster, which is a bit of a relief. Now if only you could turn around and reach her teats. Wriggling and squirming isn't getting you anywhere against mommy's strong grip, but suddenly sister cries out again, really loud this time. You had been pushing against her and must've kicked her hurt wingie. Mommy sets you and brother on the ground but still against her fluff. She's attending to sissy's tears and cries of agony. It's a bittersweet feeling, you really didn't want to hurt sister like that. But on the other hoof now you can walk down to mommy's milk place and finally make these terrible tummy owwies go away. "Lesse... your colt is 8.03 ounces.  Huh, he does look small for his age." "Mawble need moar nummies, nu haf 'nuff miwk fo' babbehs.  Dey haf wowstest tummeh owwies, pwease gif moar foodies fo' miwk?" "Let me check the rest first, then we'll decide what happens.  The orange filly next, okay?" You waddle and stumble your way on the long, soft thing at the bottom of your home towards the all important teats. Your tummy hurts so bad you'd un-drink milk right there if you had any to bring up. Brother shambles along with you, he must want to suckle as well, but with mommy laying on her side you can only reach one teat! That's not fair mommy, please lay so you both can have milk, you need it so badly! "Nuuuu, nu wan' munsta, wan' mummeh!  Wan' mummeh!  Mummeh hewp babbeh, pwease hewp babbeh!  Munsta gif babbeh big huwties, why nu hewp?  Why mummeh nu hewp babbeh?  Am gud babbeh, wuv mummeh!" "For God's sake kid, I'm just checking your weight not peeling your fluff off." "NUUUUUUUU!  Munsta wan' babbeh fwuff!  Babbeh wuv babbeh fwuff!  Why nu hewp, mummeh?  Wuv mummeh, babbeh wuv mummeh!" "Babies like you are why I wear earplugs while doing this, little guilt trip spouting...  There... 8.58 ounces.  She should be about twice that by now.  What the hell is Jay putting in this crappy kibble?" Almost there. You're almost there! This horrible, painful gurgling in your tummy will all go away if only you can get some milk! It's a race between you and your brother, and just thinking about that makes you sad. Why can't mommy shield you from the hooman monster and give milk to you both at the same time? Mommies can do anything, that should be easy! Then you see those eyes in your mind again, and remember the feel of being pulled from mommy's hooves. The impression of strength as the hooman hoof yanked you away. It was so scary, mommy did her best but she took you from her with just one hoof! Does that mean mommies can't do everything? What if mommy can't protect you if she comes back? You feel your tummy do another flip and you flop down in place, fear and pain forcing your tiny self to the ground. "That's it Marble, here's the last baby." "Wuv babbehs, wuv babbehs so much!  Pwease gif moar nummies fo' miwkies?  Pwease, fo' babbehs?" "They're way under weight... I'll give you a little bit more but-" "YAY!  Mawbel wuv hooman!  Nu moar tummy owwies fo' mummeh an' babbehs!" "Yeah.  This'll take care of everything, just remember to chew before gobbling it down." "Mawbel am gud fwuffy, wuv nice hooman, wuv nummies an' babbehs!" "Nummies before babbies huh?  Well, can't say I'm surprised.  There you go." Ouchies from the leg the scary hooman twisted jolt through you, bringing tears to your eyes. You're scared, you're hurting, and worst of all brother is going to beat you to mommy's teat now. You take a glimpse back to see how close he is, and get a big surprise. He looks even worse than you feel; brother is curled up into a ball and making scary sounds, his mouth gaping and hacking before he un-drinks again. But it's not the nasty yellow you've seen (and created several times) before, this un-milk is green kinda like his fluff, and a little red like mommy. He gasps and writhes, holding his tummy with both hooves and crying. The sounds he makes are upsetting, reminding you of whatever happened during the last dark time. Cries for help, horrific crunching, squeals, gagging, growling... Gurgling from inside brings you back to reality. Brother looks over at you blearily and manages to squeak out one word. "Miwk." His tummy owwies must be sooooo bad! But yours are really, really bad too! It's so unfair, why would mommy do this and not put you right on her teat like she's supposed to? That the hooman is still here is barely an afterthought, every part of you screams for milk to make the hurties go away. You force yourself to your hooves and take a few wobbly steps, then a few more. It's agonizingly slow going, but through your tears you see the teat just before you, a drop of milk hanging lazily off the tip. A final bit of encouragement to urge you on. Walking up mommy's side with your front hooves you finally, finally latch on and begin suckling. This is the best milk you've ever tasted. "Maple?  Come on girl, wakey wakey.  Breakfast time." Almost right away your stomach eases it's grumbling and churning, heavenly compared to just a moment ago. Your unhurt front hoof kneads the area around mommy's teat while you stand on the rear ones; a bit wobbly but with the death grip you have on that teat falling off isn't a concern. Everything comes back into focus now, your eyes have dried and the sounds of other fluffies playing and talking returns, even if most of their words make no sense. "Mummeh, pway wif babbeh pwease.  Pwease wakies mummeh." "Mummeh haf miwk fo' babbeh?  Wan' haf nummies, mummeh pwease gif?" Other babies close by are talking to their mother while you suckle for all you're worth. With the pain and yucky feelings subsiding, you can hear and pay attention to what they say. The other babies words are much clearer than yours, you recognize a few and think that they were in the right order to mean something. Why can't your words do the same? You often tell mommy how much you love her, or that your tummy feels bad, but they never come out the right way. Are your words being meanies on purpose? "Mapewl wan' sweepies, nu nummies time nao.  Babbehs be qwiet fo' mummeh... zzzzz." "Nuuuuu, wan' miwkies, pwease miwkies mummeh?" "Why nu miwkies, why mummeh nu pway wif babbehs?" " *sniff* Why mummeh nu wuv babbehs?  Am gud babbeh, pwease wuv mummeh!" " *Snore* " "Very classy, Maple.  I'll just leave this here then, maybe you'll feel like waking up if the babies cry loud enough." " *Snore* " Babies in other fluffy houses continue to chatter on in ways that sound much better than yours. It makes you a little jealous;  you're a good baby too, why don't your words sound like theirs? Maybe they've just got nicer words than yours. Yours keep on being mean to you and not doing what you tell them. Your thoughts about words and unfairness are derailed however when something nudges your side. Brother managed to get back on his hooves and reach mommy's teat too. He looks up at you pleadingly, face half covered in yikky, smelly stuff. Without a second thought, your hooves spread out a little more and you press harder into mommy. You know whats coming, and while you'll be glad to give him a turn once your tummy is full, you've still got a long way to go until then. He'll just have to be patient. Of course he isn't. The next nudge is much harder, his face pushing into your belly fluff, wanting the teat for himself. You knew he'd be a meanie in the end, just like sissy always is. Meanie babies don't get any milk before good babies are done, that's what mommy says. Well, you think that's what she says. It sounds like her. So that's how things are gonna be! Brother can be a mean, bad baby all he wants, you aren't letting go until the tummy owwies are completely gone. "Pway wif babbeh?  Hooman pway?" "I never know how you guys are gonna react to me, it's nice seeing a good baby for once." "Babbeh am gud babbeh!" "You sure are.  We're just gonna see how much you weigh, little girl, then it's back to momma." "Babbeh wan' pway wif nice hooman, mummeh sweepies, nevah pway.  Why nu pway?" "Things to do, fluffies to breed, quotas to keep.  You understand right?  13.81 ounces, better but not ideal." "Babbeh nu un'stan." "Don't worry about it, play with your siblings.  And speaking of which, who wants weighed next?" "Babbeh wan' pway!" "Nummies fwom hooman?" "Giwwy wan' pway pwease!" "Wait your turn, Gilly." Brother tries pushing between you and mommy, but it's not a very strong push and you manage to stay in place. He whines and whimpers, but he'll just have to wait until your belly is full. If he wasn't being such a bad baby, maybe you'd have taken turns. Unsurprisingly, brother pushes again. But it isn't very hard, in fact you barely feel the bump from his head before it stops. Seemingly exhausted from the effort, brother sinks to the ground and cries. It makes you sad too, but there's only one teat reachable right now, and you got here first. 

It's only fair. "Nel, it's your turn.  I'll weigh your babies and give you breakfast." "Nuuuuu, nu take babbehs, munsta nu gif huwties, dey gud babbehs!" "We've been over this how many times now?  It's only... why am I arguing with a fluffy?" "Munsta come, scawy munsta gif bad owwies, scawe Newl an' babbehs.  Munsta nu gif huwties!" "Probably just a bad dream. Now come on, I've got a schedule to keep." "Mummeh!  Munsta haf babbeh!  Wuv mummeh, pwease hewp babbeh!  Wuv mummeh, wuv mummeh!  Why nu hewp?" "And we got off to such a good start too.  15.55 ounces, not bad." Mommy's still fussing with sissy and her constant crying, she must be giving too hard huggies again and making sissy's wingie hurt. Your brother has given up on forcing his way to the teat, instead he lays on the long, soft thing and taps his front hooves against your leg. It's much like how you'd tap hooves together when mommy had you both feeding side by side. Probably as a reminder that he's still here and desperate for his turn. You're feeling a little bad for him. Not bad enough to give up your feeding time, but bad. "All done Nel, and not a baby was harmed.  Who would've imagined?" "Wuv babbehs, mummeh gif huggies!" "Babbeh scawed!  Why mummeh nu hewp babbeh?" "Mummeh twy!  Babbeh nu haf huwties?" "No she doesn't have any hurties.  If... I'm doing it again.  *ahem*  Stella, time for your-" "NUUUUUU!  Nu take babbehs!  Nice hooman say Stewwa keep!  Stewwa wuv gud, pwetty babbehs!" The hooman looms over your home, thankfully it's not the super scary one from before. That's a relief. No looking into those eyes this time. You keep peeking up at him while feeding, he's just so... un-fluffy like. It's unfair that hoomans aren't allowed to be fluffies. If they were, they'd be so much nicer and get to be covered in wonderful fluff. They'd give lots of hugs, and play, and love, and never be meanies. They'd have mommies to take care of them, and delicious milk, and spend the day napping and playing. Poor hoomans. They'll never get to be as good as fluffies. You have to look up high as you can just to see the hooman's funny face. Maybe it's not fair that they'll never be fluffies, but they sure are big. Even bigger than mommy. And mommy picks you up all the time, she has so much fluff you could almost get lost in it. Hoomans may be super big, but you still know deep down that it's better to be a fluffy. Your tummy feels so much better now. Far from perfect mind you, but it's not bringing tears to your eyes anymore. "I'm not arguing today, Stella.  Let's start with this hungry little fella." What's the hooman doing? Oh no! That hooman is reaching down towards you! You aren't done drinking yet! And you can't call for help and drink at the same time! Right? "Me- *cough* *hack* *cough* " It didn't work. You flatten against mommy and spread your hooves again, wanting frantically to hold on. But try as you may, it's incredible strength pops your lips right off mommy's teat and lifts you away. "Miwk nu!  Nu nu sewwy!" The gibberish plea ignored, you're removed from your fluffy home in no time. You're belly is starting to feel bad all over again while panic overtakes your diminutive mind, all while calling for a mother who can't reach you. You cry out and push against his grip to no avail. "Weren't you the friendly one before?  I wonder what changed?  Ah well, they've always been fickle...  6 ounces.  Is that it?  You've barely grown in four days!  And what was that you said?" It's looking right at you, his eyes aren't cold and cruel like the other hoomans but they still frighten you. "Babbeh hooban, mummeh miwk bahbuh baw!" It hurts, your tummy is already roiling and you weren't even full yet. "That's... not so good.  Let's see another one." You almost un-drink as the hooman quickly sets you back down into mommy's fluff. She defensively wraps a leg around you and says all kinds of things you don't understand, but that doesn't seem to stop him. He pries your sister from mommy as she squeaks and thrashes, even making the bad smelly on his hoof. "Eeeeeeee! Pway!  Nu pway mummeh!  Babbeh!" "Yeah thanks for that kiddo.  Really makes my morning.  5.95 ounces, way off the mark again." "Pway babbeh!  Eeeeeee! wan' miwk babbeh!" "Doesn't sound any better either.  Just one more to go, calm down." "Giwwy wan pway!  Pway pway pway!" Mommy's leg presses hard againt your back, it hurts! You try telling her but she isn't listening, instead she reaches up and snatches your sister from the hooman and pulls her close. "Gilly will you just... why are your hooves red?" "Giwwy pway nao?  Giwwy wuv pway wif nice hooman!  Pway wif hooman an' babbehs!" Oh, it hurts, it hurts so much! Mommy keeps squeezing you hard and your tummy feels like it's gonna pop! "Wh-... Jesus Christ.  Are... Is that what's left of your babies?" "Giwwy pway wif babbehs when dawkies, pway tagsies an' hidies' an' dance!" "Gilly, you've killed them, all of them.  You really did this last night?" "Pway aaawwwwwwwww fun games fo' fwuffies!  Hooman wan' pway wif Giwwy an' babbehs nao?  Pway hidies?" "Do you not get it?  Your babies are dead Gilly.  They're smeared all over your damn cage!" "Nu... nu pway?  Why nu pway?  Giwwy is gud mummeh, gif babbehs wuv an' miwk an' huggies.  Hooman say Giwwy keep babbehs, so Giwwy be bestest mummeh evah!" "Fuck... I don't even know what to say to this, you bi-polar little headcase.  I guess your trial run is up, that's for damn well sure.  And I'm getting those caracasses out of there before they start to rot." "Buh Giwwy wan' pway!  Pway wif Giwwy and gud babbehs, pwease?" "They're dead you moron, dead.  I'm taking them out." "NU!  Nu take babbehs, munsta!  Giwwy gif wowstest owwies to dummy hooman!  Go 'way!" "You've cracked haven't you?  Either that, or there's LSD in your fucking chow batch." "Giwwy hate hooman munstas!  *Grrrrr*  Gif owwies, gif sowwy poopies, make meanie hooman dai!" "We'll see about that." "Gif wowstest owwies!  Hate smewwy hooman!  Giwwy bite yu nosey!  Gif spawks an' buwnies! Hate yu!" The noises beside your home are scary, mommy hugs even tighter and you can't stand it. Tears flow freely as you feel that horrible owwie in your tummy spill out. With loud, painful wretches you un-drink everything you'd managed to down this morning despite feeling soooooo bad! Red mixes with yellow as milk gushes from your mouth and nose, all over mommy's pretty fluff. And it burns, oh how it burns as it comes back out! You want to scream but its still coming up, this is the worst owwie you've ever had! Sister squeals as it gets all over her fluff too, and just as your tummy finally finishes with one final cough, she brings up some green and red of her own, crying with every gasp. Mommy's too busy being scared of the noises and screaming fluffy voice close by to so much as notice. And all the while, brother suckles hard and fast as he can at the one teat he can reach, glad his tummy owwies are starting to feel a little better. * Closing time at the fluffy mill * "What a fucking waste." "I know, and I feel responsible as well.  I picked Gilly because of her good temperament, although you'd never know it talking to her right now.  She was one of the nicest we've ever had downstairs, but ever since the new diet started her moods have been up and down like a yo-yo." "I'll make sure Jay compensates me FULLY for one good breeder and the babies she killed." "Stomped the little things into paste." "Put her down yet?" "No, although I felt like it by the time her cage was back downstairs.  She was sparking at me non stop.  Don't worry, she's in another closet and not with the general population, no need to freak 'em out." "That asshole's gonna pay out the nose for her, and one of the babies had a rainbow mane right?  There goes at least hundred bucks.  Un-fucking-believeable." "Actually, I've got a bit more bad news.  Maybe a lot more." "... This gonna be a five drink, or ten drink night?" "Let's start with five and work our way up.  Marble and Coral's babies are undersized, some by more than fifty percent.  Mentally they seem ok, for a baby fluffy I mean, but they look more like newborns than babies four days old.  Marble constantly complains about being hungry and not having enough milk, I told her today she was getting extra although I didn't actually add more." "They'll buy anything won't they?" "Yep.  Coral is the exact opposite, always saying she feels full and doesn't want to eat.  She's also going on about her poops hurting her and being too hard." "Well this is all going straight to hell in a hand basket isn't it?  I'm such a dumbass for going along with Jay and his "revolutionary" new feed mixes.  Well?  I can tell you've got more so just spit it out." "Yes ma'am.  Maple spends most of the day asleep, and when she's up it's like watching a fluffy in slow motion.  Her babies are also undersized but mostly because she keeps sleeping on her belly and not letting them feed.  The babies sleep more than normal too, they're a bit thin but not nearly as bad as Maple's." "Okay, just so I haven't missed anything so far:  We've got one psycho, one starving, one who's probably eating sawdust and a narcoleptic.  You know... there may be a use for that last formula.  Maybe some people'd like their fluffies to calm the fuck down.  So?  What else?  None burst into flames yet?" "There's Nel, out of the lot I'd say her bunch are doing the best, but when I weighed her babies they felt kinda weird.  Their fluff was oddly stiff, but otherwise they check out." "Stiff fluff?  We're breeding Brillo pads now?  No one'll want a fluffy that doesn't feel nice.  ANOTHER writeoff, why the hell not?  One more to go so let me guess... four assholes each and can't stop shitting right?" "Heh, well, not quite but they've got some serious problems of their own." "The hell you say!  I never woulda guessed.  Do go on, you're a real ray of sunshine." "Sorry boss lady.  Stella herself is still as paranoid as ever, she and some of the other fluffies were talking about a monster yesterday, but I think they mean Gilly and hearing what she did to her babies.  Speaking of which, Stella's are barely an ounce heavier than when I first weighed them." "Uh huh.  Keep going, wheat else is wrong with 'em?" "All three are having problems with their speech, I doubt they've picked up any new words and none can string a proper sentence together.  If anything they sound worse now than they did as newborns." "How bad exactly?  Some people like foals to be a bit more baby like." "They make no sense, I'm not sure if they're trying to say anything specific or just babble random things at random times.  There's something else I need to mention too.  Stella's been trying to hide it, but they've all thrown up repeatedly, even on an empty stomach.  I think at leastone puked up some bile and there may have been blood in it." " *Moan* Any chance this is a disease and not their feed?" "Could be, but if it is I haven't heard of it, it's almost like the babies have Derp Syndrome." "If we have another case of the Derp I'm gonna pull my fucking hair out.  And God knows there's been enough Enf transmitted diseases with those last couple stallions." "It's always a risk bringing in new blood.  And I've no doubt you got a refund." "Damn straight I did, and then some.  So it's their shitty feed that's likely the cause.  Some of Stella's babies had good coloration too, he's paying extra for those.  I want pictures of all these babies... wait.  Even better, get me video of every test subject and the babies too.  I won't have Jay weaseling his way out of paying top dollar." "We could save a majority of the babies by just switching them over to normal feed, assuming the damage hasn't already been done.  But..." "But I signed a contract to see the testing through until weaning.  Too bad every single formula he gave us is a fucking dud.  Except that one Maple is on, if her babies survive I could see people paying for a feed that'll settle their fluffies." "Well, getting back on track I seriously doubt those babies have the Derp, but I don't see Stella's brood lasting much longer unless we do something." "I'd rather have the babies to sell, but a deals a deal.  You just be sure to document and record everything, I want video evidence of what Gilly did as well.  Use your cell camera for now, tomorrow I'll bring my camcorder and we'll do this right.  All he asked for was a written report, but we're going above and beyond this time.  I intend to collect on every penny this bullshit's cost me." "What about Gilly?" "After recording I'll give the bitch to Tiffany.  Fitting punishment, right?" "Won't Jay want the bodies to study or dissect, something like that?" "You're talking about the guy that phoned ME because he had a flat tire and no idea what to do. Besides, that's not in the contract and Tiff's been complaining about being bored lately.  It'll brighten her day." "Uh huh.  I'm gonna go grab my phone then and get some shots of Gilly's smear marks.  And the final word on changing their food back to normal?" "You're a real softy sometimes.  I'll talk to him, but for now we stick to the contract until something changes." "Yes ma'am." End part 6 Author's note: After pastebin swallowed more than ten days worth of very productive writing I was pretty damn pissed off.  And despite the content of what I'd written, I still contacted them repeatedly trying to recover what'd been lost.  Their reply was a nicely worded, polite middle finger.  When I pestered them some more, they were kind enough to give me another.  So consider that a lesson folks:  Don't rely on the cloud.  Keep multiple backups in multiple locations.  I thought pastebin would be air tight but they proved me wrong;  now I've got copies of everything written on two different hard drives as well as online.  It's a bit of a pain but better than losing your work and motivation at the same time. http://pastebin.com/u/Mayclore - Thanks for letting me use your characters.  If you like stories about fluffies even a little bit go here.  You won't be disappointed. By Toran

[toranistheauthor]

Been a while

For those few who follow my tales of horror and stupidity, I'm finally back in the saddle.  Months back, pastebin chewed up over a week of very productive writing and refused to help me retrieve it.  Yes despite the subject matter I e-mailed them repeatedly, I wanted my horror show back.  All I got was a couple middle fingers for my trouble.

However, I'm finally over the rage/quit and am writing again.  Babbeh 6 will be out soon, followed by new chapters of my regular stuff and one or two new ideas I've rewritten since the crash.  Hope you like 'em.

[toranistheauthor]

Babbeh part 5

Babbeh part 5 http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ Warning:  This story contains a little abuse from the perspective of a 3 day old fluffy baby.  Viewer discretion is advised. "Hiya kids, miss me?" "Babbehs, come to mummeh!" "Newl gud fwuffy, nu huwt gud fwuffy!  Huuuuu hu hu hu hu..." " Ho-hooman... munsta scawy..." "Great to see you all doing so well.  I just wanted to drop by and say hello, make sure you're comfortable, that kind of thing." You're a fluffy pony baby, now three and three quarters days old though you wouldn't know that. A giant fluffy just opened up the world again and came in. But all the mommy fluffies starting acting different right away, even yours. You were trying to get rid of your tummy owwies by drinking lots of milk, but she flipped onto her side the instant she saw the giant fluffy. Now you're sitting on the soft, floppy thing that's always on the bottom of your home and being held close against mommy, her back turned to the newcomer. The sudden drop really set off the rumbling, not good feeling in your tummy and sister is crying again. She must have landed on her wings or leg with the bad hurties. And your brother lays on his side nearby, making a frightening, gulping sound. The whole situation scares you a lot. "Shhh, nu be wowd babbehs, pway hidies in mummeh's fwuff." Play? Is this a game? If your tummy didn't feel so bad you'd be happy but trying to get to your hooves makes it worse. Maybe you should just sit still for a while, hopefully the bad feel will go away. "What's this?  I can't even take a look at your babies?  Maybe see if they want to play?" "Nuuuu, nu pway pwease!  Babbehs nu need pway wif hooman.  Am gud babbehs, am gud mummeh, pwease nu huwt babbehs!" One of the mothers is talking with the giant fluffy you think, it's impossible to see anything but mommy's red fluff and your siblings right now. She sounds really scared too. Why would that be? The giant fluffies are always nice just like normal fluffies aren't they? Memories of how sissy got her injuries blend together and fade with others, making them fuzzy and hard to recollect. Something about other fluffies, lots of other fluffies... Your home, a strange thing about home... ... Sister flying! That must be it, she flew with her wingies and hit the side of your home. You hope she'll be okay, the cold long things that comprise your fluffy home are real hard, you've touched them once. "Not even a little bit?  How about if I say please?" "Pw- pwease hooman... nu huwt... hu... hu hu... nu huwt ba-babbehs." "Man, you guys sure are jumpy today, how about I play with your babies, Maple?" * Snore * "Well that's no fun." Sudden loud clangs ring in your ears, sharp and painful. "Hey Maple, wakey wakey!" "Humnn?  Muh?  Wha'?  Wha' hapn?  Why wowd?  Pwease wet Mapwl sweepies, Ma-eh... munsta!  Whea babbehs?  Babbehs! "Heh, a bit more like it.  I haven't touched your babies, stupid.  Look down." "Babbehs!  Mapwl wuv babbehs, nu huwt, hooman nu huwt mummeh an' babbehs!" "Babbeh scawed!  Nu wan' hooman, pwease hewp babbeh, wuv mummeh! Mommy's hug is so tight it's beginning to hurt. You love hugs more than just about anything, but fear hangs so thick in the air even your underdeveloped baby instincts pick up on it. There's something else as well, a word the others keep on saying, you've heard mommy say it too. Hooman. Hooman... It sets off images in your mind, feelings and sensations temporarily sweep your tummy owwies aside. You know something about it, something important about that word. What is it? What is hooman? "Gilly, we haven't talked in so long, how are the babies?" "Nu huwt!  Owwies bad fo' babbeh, nu huwt babbeh!  Giwwy nu wan' babbeh haf huwties!  Munsta go 'way!" "I knew it, that pansy's too soft on you.  But you remember me, don't ya?  So if I were to, say, reach in there and yank on your fluff you wouldn't try to spark at ME would you?" "Nuuuu, nu huwt mummeh, nu take babbehs, babbehs need mummeh!" You're trying real hard to follow what they're saying, but many of these words make no sense. How do they understand so many words at once? "I know!  What if I want to play with one of your babies, maybe even take them home.  You wouldn't try to bite ME then would you?" "Nuuuuuu hu hu hu huuuuuu... nu take babbehs... fuwffy haf wowstest saddies wif nu babbhes an' *sniff* an' babbehs haf wowstest saddies wif nu mummeh!" "Ohhhhh.  Okay then, I was just asking." "Hooman pwease be nice an nu take babbehs?  Hooman be gud to fwuffy?" "If I feel like it." "Nu take babbehs, pwease nu take babbehs, pwease nu-" "QUIET." "Nu... nu take... pw-pwease nu-." "Are you disobeying me?" "Hu... hu hu..." That mommy sounds sad, but she's not what you're focusing on with all your fluffy brainpower. The word hooman, it's something super important, you've got to know! "...STELLA!  You won't mind if I borrow a baby will you?" "NU!  PWEASE NU TAKE BABBEH!  Otha' hooman say Stewwa keep babbehs, hooman smawty say Stewwa-" "Human what now?" Hooman... you know it, somehow you know it. That's what fluffies call the giant fluffies. But... what does that make them? Aren't they fluffies? Hoomans aren't fluffies? That doesn't seem fair, why shouldn't hoomans be allowed to be fluffies too? They'll miss out on all the hugs and play and love a fluffy gets, that's so sad! A combination of pity and tummy owwies bring tears to your eyes, the poor hoomans. You want to ask, you want to know more about hoomans and what they are. Even if they aren't like your family, at least you can give huggies to make them feel better about not being fluffies. "Hubnen babbeh wuv?" No, that wasn't right. "Hoonban fwuff miwk? No, no no! You want to stomp your hooves and cry it's so frustrating! You focus on mommy's words and try to comprehend. "Hooman smawty, she haf puhpwl fwuff 'an is hooman smawty fwiend.  She say Stewwa keep babbehs an' be gud mummeh! "Human.  Smarty.  Friend.  You're one stupid fluffy, Stella.  We don't have smarty friends, we can do whatever we please.  So if I want to pluck one of those babies your hiding so badly and play a game there's nothing you can do about it." "NUUUUUU!  Pwease nu huwt babbeh, Stewwa wuv babbehs!  Stewwa... Stewwa tewl hooman smawty dat yu huwt babbeh an'... an' she gif yu wowstest owwies! Everything's quiet. Except for mommy's quick breathing and brothers strange gulping noises it's quiet, all the talking stopped. Before, you were afraid because it felt like mommy and your siblings were too. But even that's different now, it's another new feeling. Instead of tummy owwies your whole body shakes despite the warmth of mommy's fluff and her legs wrapped protectively around you. Something is wrong, so very wrong you feel it deep inside. The new feel... it's even scarier than fear. You didn't know there was something even more scary than fear. This quiet is so unnatural and foreign to your ears. Where did all the fluffy voices go? "You're gonna tell on me?" It's the hooman's voice, spoken so softly yet her words penetrate and chill your bones. Your bottom goes wet and yucky again. You don't notice. "Fw-fwuffy tewl... te-tewl on mo-... tewl on hooman if... if huwt babbehs." If the first silence brought worse-than-fear into your life, the second introduced you to horror. Mommy's heart has never sounded louder or faster, her trembling serves only to make yours worse. Danger. This is what danger feels like. It shoves away all other feelings, filling you up head to toe. You're stricken with terror. And although you couldn't face upwards even if you wanted... Somehow you know it's looking right at you. The hooman, the scary hooman is looking at you and means to do something bad. And then you feel it, the strange, terrifying hooman hoof effortlessly pulling you away from mommy's grip. "Miwk hooban babbeh!" "Ba... babbeh... St... Stewwa tewl... nu huwt..." You're forelegs had wrapped themselves around part of it (her thumb), looking for comfort from anywhere possible. The rest of it's hoof lay flat beneath your bottom, but the impression of strength she makes leaves you feeling isolated and afraid. She took you from mommy so easily, brushed her legs aside and now holds you up higher than you've ever been. Finally your eyes meet. You stare into darkness and hatred and malice, completely overwhelmed and frozen. If you hadn't already made a yucky wet spot, you'd be doing it right now. "Aw, look at this little cutie.  Isn't he adorable?" "Babbeh... hu... hu hu... nu huwt... Stewwa tewl..." "I think he likes me too, dontcha?" The hooman raises it's other foreleg up, you feel a hoof stroking your mane and back. It's so frightening... desperation finally forces you out of you're stupor. "Wan' babbeh! Wan' miwk mummeh!" You aren't even aware of the words, they spill out of you in jumbled piles like a ball of tangled fluff. But she continues to stroke and stare into your eyes. There is no more curiosity in you for hoomans, no desire to play or give hugs. Your mind is filled to overflowing with fear and a yearning for mommy's fluff. "Babbeh!  Mummeh babbeh... mummeh wan'!" She smiles, your blood is ice. "Stella, I think you squeezed out a retard." "Stewwa tewl... nu huwt pwease!" Impossible strength pries your legs off her hoof, now you sit on your bottom with nothing around but blackness and two eyes staring right through you. "So you're gonna tell on me Stella?  You know if tell, I'll have to make an example out of this cute little fella." You want to run, want to hide, anything to make this end, anything to stop those eyes from stripping away all that you are. But not even your neck will move. So you sit, legs still held outward where she left them in a half hug, nothing left inside but instinct and fear. "Nu huwt, pwease nu huwt gud babbeh, hu hu... Stewwa wuv babbeh... hu hu hu..." You don't even realize she's twisting one of your legs until pain finally pushes through the paralysis. "Owwwwiieeeee!  Wan' nu! Pway!  Waaaahhhhhh! "NU! NU HUWT BABBEH!  FWUFFY SOWWY! NU TEWL! FWUFFY NU TEWL!" She lets go but the pain persists, its the worst pain ever! "Waaaaahhhhhh!  Wan' miwk owwie!  Mummeh huwt!" "Huuu hu hu babbeh!  Fwuffy sowwy, fwuffy sowwy, nu huwties!" "Oh.  You're not going to tell?  So I won't have to rip off all his cute little legs?  You won't make me twist off his head and leave it on top of your cage?" "Huuuu hu hu hu... nu huwt, fwuffy sowwy, nu tewl.  Nu tewl an' nu huwt babbeh, hu hu hu huuuuuu." The blackness is ripped away in a dizzying blur as your eyes are suddenly looking somewhere else. The horror that had frozen you in place is gone and replaced by... mommy? You don't know where you are but it feels like you're floating, looking down on mommy as she reaches up high as she can with one hoof. Despite the worst pain ever in your leg you spread them wide as you can, anticipating the best hug you've ever had. But it doesn't come, you're so close but can't quite reach mommy. Then you hear the voice again, the mere sound bringing fresh tears and a coldness to your limbs. "Promise you won't tell, Stella?" "Huuu hu hu... fwuffy nu tewl, gud fwuffy, gud babbeh, babbeh need mummeh.  Am gud fwuffy, fwu-" "I get it.  Some people think fluffies stop using their names when they're lying, but you know what?  I think they forget because a tiny little vermin brain like yours can't process more than one thought at a time.  Know what I mean?" "Pwease, hu hu... gif babbeh, babbeh is gud babbeh, hu hu hu.  Wuv gud babbeh." Mommy. You want to be in her hugs so badly, her cries and words bring a hint of warmth back to your chest. The craving for mommy's fluff only grows stronger while your legs dangle helplessly below, doing nothing to bring you to her like they should. "I guess I'll just- whoops!" A stab of terror runs down your spine for just an instant, then an impact splays your legs out in every direction. You see red then black then red again, until finally landing heavily on your side in something wet. Every part hurts and you want to cry out, but there's no breath in you for that. "Babbeh!" It takes a moment to realize you're looking into brothers face, panic from the sudden fall and pain mixing with a sticky, yucky feeling all over. You've landed in a puddle of something not nice, the shock of being dropped and rolling off mommy onto the ground giving way to tears and gasping for air. Brother had un-drank milk like you before, he lay beside mommy with half his face caked in it. He barely even lifted his head when you splashed down in front of him, his own eyes red and puffy from crying. You feel terrible and not pretty; mommy finally scoops you into her embrace again but the awful feelings you've experienced aren't easily chased away by hugs and love like they were before. You've been rattled down to your very core and only wish to sink into mommy's fluff, never to see the terrifying hooman ever again. "Sorry about that Stella.  Looks like the green one puked while we were talking and stupid rolled right into it.  What a bad, bad baby." You're scared and hurt and warm and relieved all at once, it's too much to take in. Mommy's hug has you wrapped in fluff and should be making everything better, but that voice has you quaking in remembrance of those fearsome eyes. You don't want to think about them but they're there, you know they're there, looking at you right this very moment. "So you understand now, Stella?  I can do whatever I want, whenever I want and you can't do anything about it.  Aaaannnddddddd if you tell... I'll make an example out of ALL your babies." "Babbehs, wuv babbehs, fuwffy wuv babbehs, am sowwy, nu tewl, fwuffy nu tewl, wuv babbehs, fwuffy wuv babbehs, am sowwy-" "Uh huh.  You just keep repeating that until it sinks in.  And remember, I do whatever I want.  Got that?" "Fwuffy un'stan, wuv babbehs, nu tewl." "Was everyone paying attention?  I don't have to play with any other babies do I?" "Gud babbehs!  Gud babbehs!" "Am gud fwuffy, hooman nu haf pway wif babbehs, fwuffy un'stan.  Hooman do wha' hooman wan'." "Good... ah!  Found the dustpan.  The rest of you take good care of your babies, and try to be better mommies then Stella, she almost got one killed." There's a few light thumps, then a click, and silence. You hear nothing but mommy's heartbeat and the distant, incoherent voices of fluffies who may as well be worlds away. Mommy is talking and hugging you while cleaning your fluff, you should be happy. Her fussing and normally blissful attention brings little comfort, your confrontation with the powerful hooman has left you numb and exhausted. Minutes pass, and while she continues to clean and reassure and hug you drift off into much needed sleep, surrounded by all the familiar things of life but with none of the contentment. * Crunch * When next you open your eyes, it's nothing but darkness again. Mommy's legs are squeezing tight, making your hurt leg even hurtier. But the pain is a distant sensation, scary sounds ring out from the darkness. "Owwie!  Mummeh hewp!  Munsta haf babbeh!" "Mummeh!  Wan' mummeh!" * Crack * "Waahhhhhhhhh! Mu- hrk!* "Mummeh hewp!  Munsta gif owwies, babbeh scawed!  Why nu hewp babbeh?  Babbeh wuv mummeh!" Mommy's heart beats so hard and fast it partially drowns out the frightening noises coming from close by. You wish they'd go away, fresh fear bringing memories of a horrifying pair of eyes to your mind. "Whea mummeh?  Pwease hewp babbeh, haf wowstest owwies!  Hewp babbeh!  Hewp babbeh! * Crunch! *  * Pop! * "OWWWIEEEEE!!!  MUMMEH!!! "Nu huwt babbeh, pwease nu huwt!  Wuv mummeh, wan' mummeh!  Why nu huggies?!  B- hkkkkk!" * Crack! *  * Squish * "NUUUUU!  PWEASE NU HUWTIES!" * Crunch * ..... * Crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch * Eyes, all you can think about are eyes staring down at you, cruel and cold. Brother and sister lay beside you on mommy's chest, their quiet crying makes your own fears even worse. The sounds of sobbing fluffies mingle with your vision of huge, monstrous eyes. Your tummy, already hurting and gurgling does flips and feels awful. Horror and pain mix until you un-drink your last milk all over mommy's fluff with several long, painful wretches. She doesn't even notice, too occupied with whatever is happening just outside the cage. It's like everything inside you is burning, un-drinking milk hurts so bad! But you dare not speak, the scary noises are still happening and you don't want whatever makes them to hear. After a few moments, the pleas for help and bloodcurdling sounds die down. You hear only mommy's heartbeat, some sniffles and muffled crying coming from different places. Whatever it was, it's gone away. "Babbehs are gud babbehs, munsta go 'way, mummeh keep yu safe an' wahm." The meaning of mommy's words eludes you. She said it in a comforting way though, and that will have to do. It's a small reassurance but welcome, you've had a very bad day. And now your tummy hurts more than ever. Hopefully more milk will make that go away too. End part 5

Thanks to Mayclore for allowing me to use his characters is my story.  Originally they were supposed to be a big reveal for the last chapter but everyone had it figured out by the second.  I was intentionally vague too, but they are quite distinct characters.  Please visit his pastebin and discover the world of the Fluffy Factory.

http://pastebin.com/u/Mayclore

[toranistheauthor]

Fluffy Garments - the Foreman part 1

Fluffy Garments - The Foreman part 1 http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ Warning:  This story contains abuse and other creepy things.  Viewer discretion is advised. * Click * * A slightly overweight, slightly balding man of around 40 walks to a chair facing the camera he just turned on and sits * ... All right, here we go.  I've had some phone calls lately, hangups an' shit like that.  Then a note under the front door about good little boys keeping their mouths shut.  There's lots of dickhead teenagers in the area so I didn't think anything of it until today.  I open my mailbox and find a black rose, broken in half *Shows rose to camera*.  Four years ago I'd have no clue what it meant, but after my stint working for a Ukrainian fashion designer I'm four years smarter about the Ukrainian mob. It's what you'd call a bad fucking sign. I dunno what they think I saw or did or whatever but I ain't goin' down like some alleyway bitch for a twenty.  So I'm gonna record everything I know about the "business" I was in while working for Mikhailo Domovoi and hand it off to a couple friends I know I can trust.  Every gruesome detail, every fucked up business practice, and of course some names and dates the cops would be real interested in.  Once word of this spreads around, hopefully they'll back off.  If that's why they're fucking with me in the first place. I mean, its not like I can just look 'em up in the phone book and ask. That'd be nice though.  I've been running it over and over in my head, what is it they think I know?  Could be a lotta things, I saw some serious shit in that factory after four years.  Bodies?  Rumors about palettes of money?  Shit, whoever ends up watchin' this, you've got no idea what I've seen. Let's see...  For me, the whole dirty business started out with fluffy ponies of all fuckin' things.  Those annoying, loudmouth assholes that annoying, loudmouth assholes think are cute.  Who'd have thought there'd be money in the damn irritating pricks?  Not selling 'em, not hunting 'em.  Fashion. Fucking.  Fashion. Heh, now what do you think of when I say that?  Talking hairballs wearing little coats and booties, shitty plastic sunglasses and the like?  You've got it all wrong.  When I say fluffy fashion, I mean fashion made FROM fluffies.  They've got pelts just like any other animal, you cut 'em off right, treat 'em chemically right and there ya' go, fabric. I doubt anyone would've guessed it from looking at 'em though, not in the beginning.  They were just talking pets back then, or were supposed to be.  I heard something about a breakout or shipping accident or something and boom!  Fluffies fucking everywhere.  It was like one day there was nothing, the next?  Can't drive down the street without crushing the brakes to avoid the stupid shits.  If you bother.  I did at first, but with so many in the city I think you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who hasn't squished at least one or two by now.  Why can't they be like squirrels and fuckin' move their asses? Before my deal with the devil I was a factory worker without a factory.  No job, economy in the toilet, rent creeping up on me, same story as everybody else right?  Had a friend I'd drink with sometimes, he said something about a new place opening up, but real hush hush shit.  He drove a van for some fancy ass fashion company, delivering straight from the factory to the rack.  He says they need guys with strong stomachs and he'd put in a good word if I wanted.  I haven't seen him since the whole thing blew up in our faces, ain't hard to figure out why. So he makes good on his promise and before you know it, I'm in front of the man himself.  Mikhailo Domovoi, Ukrainian immigrant turned fashion designer.  Kinda.  He had an idea, something new and I guess back then they were really jonesing for different.  Well it doesn't get more different than what this guy had in mind and I had the chance to get on board, ground floor.  I ask what the deal is, he tells me it's gonna be those things, the fluffy ponies.  At first I didn't know what he meant.  Then he opens a closet and pulls out a coat that'd make any pimp on the streets of New York stand up and fucking salute.  Purple, blue, yellow, and all of it made from fluffy pelts.  Didn't see that shit coming AT ALL. So he's the man with the plan, but needs a few people to round up the "raw materials".  That was my first job for Domovoi.  Goin' round to all the shelters an' breeders, picking up as many fluffies as I could fit in the van and slipping the guys or gals at the front desk a few bucks to keep quiet.  They didn't give a damn about what we needed 'em for, so long as their wallets were a little fatter come quittin' time. There were, and probably still are, breeders who'd give ya one hell of a deal if you take their fucked up ones, the retards and gimps and the like.  You'll get some birth defects if you're breeding them fast chemically.  Found out about that the hard way later on.  I even had contacts with hunters for when I needed a very specific color.  Ned or Nate or something like that, he'd usually pull through if I didn't mind finding a collar or that the fluffy was chipped.  I didn't. So Mikhailo starts makin' coats and hats and all kinds of stuff, shit hits the fan from day one.  Fur is murder, they aren't pets, fluffies are people too, what a load.  Remember, this was back when they were still new and exciting.  That changed in a hurry when they started causing traffic accidents, blocking up sewers and wrecking crops.  All of a sudden the whole "fluffies are people too" thing starts to fade.  Then one day everything goes apeshit. They found an alleyway herd that taught itself how to trip people with grocery bags down a flight a' stairs to get at the eats.  Now they're a public menace and I don't even have to use the back door anymore. No one gives a shit about what happens to 'em except the few hardcore hippie pricks left. So I'm doin' my part, getting the boss the colors he needs, keeping a bunch around in cages, it's a nice little setup.  We called the place Attica, no riots but a hell of a lot of killings!  Things aren't all sunshine and roses though, Mikhailo made a lotta noise, got a lotta of press, but wasn't making a lotta cash.  That's kinda important.  Everyone knew about the coats made from fluffies, but nobody was buying.  Looked like I was back to the unemployment line when the boss makes himself a new friend.  A fellow Ukrainian fashion designer called Yakiv Komar.  The difference between the two?  Yakiv's clothes were popular and he sold a fuckton to celebrities, models and the rich housewives of New York.  You know the type, more money than brains.  But the two hit it off, thick as thieves just like that.  Yakiv said Mikhailo "inspired him to be more daring" or some such bullshit.  And our money troubles?  Disappeared overnight like a fluffy from their owners back yard.  If I'd known he was all mobbed up I'da quit right there and then. Well... I probably would've.  Before then I'd never heard of a Ukrainian mob, have you?  Almost sounds funny saying it out loud, but those mother fuckers play for keeps.  The fluffy bodies were chopped up and shipped off to dog an' cat food factories after skinning .  Let's just say every once in a while they got a little something extra in the mix.  Like one or two or eight times that I *might* have seen out the corner of my eye depending on who's asking. So now we've got the dream team together and things are finally happening.  The coats, thanks to Yakiv's "input" are selling and they start making damn near anything out of fluffy pelts.  Boots, gloves, hats, vests, belts, underwear, you name it.  You should have seen how the ones at the factory reacted. Ok, I guess I should go over that part as well.  We had two buildings, about half a football field apart.  In one we kept the fluffies, skinned 'em, treated 'em, and stored 'em for when building two needed a pelt.  That's where they actually put the clothes together, building two.  It was like black and white, their place was clean, well lit, decorated, you get the idea.  Ours, where the fluffies lived and died is a different story entirely.  Bare concrete, shitty lighting, blood drains and holy shit the smell.  In the beginning it wasn't nearly that bad, a few dozen cages, one van, no worries.  Me and one other guy took care of the hairballs while a couple more did the skinning and prep work.  But now things are happening, Yakiv's designs actually selling and we gotta keep up with orders in triple digits! Finding feral herds around town wasn't reliable when you needed eight of the same color to make one coat.  So alongside checking out the breeders, shelters and the like, we start breeding them ourselves.  I went from knowing nothing but how to shovel their shit to fluffy breeder extraordinaire in a God damn day.  We bought a LOT of old cages from anywhere we could get them, even built some ourselves, and stacked 'em five high.  They were less than a foot high themselves and about two wide by two deep, so you could get five or six in one cage if you didn't mind squeezing a bit.  Even had a system set up where a sheet of plastic between cage layers caught their piss and shit so it didn't rain down on the little bastards below.  Things were tight but we needed that fluff in good shape. Now we're hiring more and more people just to feed and clean the fuckers and we've got several vans set up special just for picking up fluffies.  Horizontal sheet metal dividers every ten inches high, you could make six or seven layers in the back of a normal van and just stuff it full of fluffies all the way to the roof.  Ya they couldn't stand up straight but we didn't need 'em to.  I'd bring 'em to Attica, unload with gloves and coveralls so I didn't get covered in shit and toss 'em out the back.  One of the other guys would hose 'em off and pass it on to the right colored cage.  That's how they were stored, by color.  At any time we could have more than two hundred red ones alone, an' tons of different shades. Things could get kinda grim working there, as damn near everyone's senior there I had to come up with shit to keep morale up.  We'd all get a kick out of grabbing one from the cages and dropping it into the sex pits right beside a coat or boot or something made from a fluffy the same color.  They'd get the weirdest look on their faces and sniff the hell out of the thing, but ya' never knew how it'd react in the end.  Some of 'em would ignore it, others were too busy crying to care an' some wanted to sleep on the soft, fuzzy thing.  Others though... heh, others sorta got it.  They knew on some level what they were lookin' at.  You'd get fluffies who'd ask a boot to play, then get mad and call it a bad fluffy for not giving hugs back!  HA!  Man, that was some crazy shit. Not often, but sometimes one really would figure it out, and every once in a while we just told 'em the truth to see what'd happen.  Even then, you never knew how it'd go.  A lot would cry, like hysterical, terrified crying and hug it, calling it friend or some shit.  Or they'd just drop in place, cover their faces and wail while saying fluffies aren't clothes, heh.  Plenty freaked and begged us not to do the same to them... I remember a mother offering up her foals if we didn't skin her in return.  And they could surprise you too, like this one that went berserk and started screaming fluffy insults at us, he charged me and damn near broke his own neck trying to spear my leg with his horn.  It was like being hit with a nerf ball but the fucker gave it his all.  Jabbing, biting, kicking, he totally lost his shit.  Damn near broke the sorry stick on his ass though and by the end, he was apologizing for being a bad fluffy and told all the others in his cage not to be mean to the nice humans.  He gave me a pretty good idea. They're funny little fuzzballs, mostly the same but with little bits of personality here and there.  Some would reach through the bars desperately trying to hug the workers, while others blew raspberries and called us names.  They met the sorry stick of course, you NEVER let that kinda thing slide in Attica.  The little shits learn by example and if we let one get away with something, they were all gonna try it.  Like that fluffy I mentioned before that went nuts, he wound up being pretty useful to me. I made a few into special projects of my own.  Whooped 'em, scared 'em, played good cop, whatever it took to make them totally loyal.  Then I'd put them in their own cage, alone.  In the one beside we'd place the really badly behaved bastards and over time my good guys would work on 'em.  Try to convince them the humans were in charge and good fluffies listen to the humans.  And hey, sometimes it even worked.  Isolating a fluffy is like the worst thing you can do to it, they HATE being alone so my loyal little fluffies were always happy to make a new friend next door.  They'd talk up a storm, reach through the bars so they could touch their hooves together, real sentimental shit.  All the while the fluffy needing an attitude adjustment is being taught and converted by my fluffy good guys.  Since they were breeders and not raw material we needed to keep them around for as  long as they could put out.  I had this red one who was like a fucking jedi, he could convince anything but a smarty friend to be good and do as it's told.  Good old Arnold... Well...  The fluffies designated for skinning were caged together, fed a little and given as much water as they wanted.  We wanted their skin to get looser, it's easier for the skinners so we'd starve 'em a bit.  Not a ton, they just needed to lose about half a pound since a lot don't weigh over five or six.  Unless you "found" a domestic fatass, they weighted a bit more.  And FUCK they were loud!  It was non stop crying all day, every day.I refuse to believe the workers in building two didn't hear what was going on with all the begging and sobbing and yelling and shit. It really got to me sometimes, so I'd haul a misbehaving one out where lots could see and give it a good, LONG dose of the sorry stick.  I'd leave a rear end raw and bloody by the time it was over and when they saw ME coming, the chatter suddenly died down.  Little fuckers knew who was in charge and the smarty friends?  Not so smart without legs, wings, horns, whatever.  A pair of tin snips and a blowtorch was all you needed.  They got the picture real fast, or went straight to the skinners.  It'd suck to lose a rare color for breeding's sake, but you never let them get away with back talk.  That's a one way ticket to losing control of the whole damn show.  And we were tryin' to make money, it wasn't a shelter.  Ya' know, just in case I haven't made it clear yet. Eh.... back to that later.  Business is booming, Mikhailo is in the papers and everything's great right? Not quite.  We were constantly almost out of fluffies by then so that's when the breeding program really ramps up.  By now I knew a bit about breeding but the boss says we need to turbo charge this shit NOW.  He even makes me official foreman of the entire building;  I was running the damn thing anyway so I guess having the title was nice.  A raise would'a been better. I went to one of the most crooked breeders you'll ever meet, creepy bastard named Jay and paid him like a fucking king to give me the rundown.  The mares were bred every month, two to three weeks of gestation and one week of recovery time.  We had long, thin play pens, which is what we called the sexing pits, between cage rows.  Plywood dividers every five feet or so made sure the colors didn't mix. Now it never was a guarantee that two green fluffies would make green babies, but the chances were much, much higher than random fucking and hoping for the best.  Stallions normally weren't hard to convince and if either fluffy gave any kind of attitude the workers had permission to whip the fuck out of their asses until they got with the enfing.  Once a mare was knocked up she'd drink her own body weight in water and balloon up like a fucking cartoon character on helium.  That's how you know when a mare is preggo, they drink like a fish to build up amniotic fluid.  Yep, I learned all kindsa' big words as a fluffy breeder. Jay taught me a lot about high volume breeding, how to get the biggest litters in the shortest time, what chemicals to inject who with, all the good shit.  There were a couple problems, as you'd expect considering how fast we set everything up.  You wouldn't believe how many mothers killed their own babies rather than hand them over to us.  After the third or fourth litter was cranked out they started catching on and trying to keep it quiet when they were about to pop.  It's not hard to tell when a mare is going into labor though, they'd complain about needing to take a big shit or ask to be moved somewhere softer, not realizing they're giving themselves away.  To fix the whole "murder" problem we always took 'em to an open pen with other mares about to give birth, the floor was sloped linoleum and even had a drain for all the damn fluid they gush while delivering. The whole thing was one wide open area with low plywood walls, its not like they were gonna walk away right?  If a dam has only one baby there's a chance she won't swell enough to stop her from walking entirely, but the fertility treatments made sure litters were no less than four, even if we got a few more runts that way.  Runts still had fluff, so they still had value.  Someone would be watching 'em 24/7, the second mommy squeezes one out, he'd be right there to make sure she didn't kill the thing, cut the cord, make her clean it and then it was off to the milk bag incubator cages despite the begging.  Afterwards mommy goes back to her cage, gets another shot and five or six days later its right back to the sex pits for another round.  Now that's sustainable high volume breeding. The mothers tried all kinds of shit with us.  Like not eating (we'd force feed 'em with a funnel and tube), constant lying about damn near anything, or hiding the babies in their fluff the moment she could move again.  Nothing worked of course, even when we got multiple runts they were cleaned and given to a milk bag.  A lot of 'em went nuts, tried to kill the babies as they were giving birth, insisting they weren't pregnant and really believing it, all kinds of fucked up stuff.  Oh yeah! There was this legless breeder who cracked;  all she'd do is wiggle in place, what she called dancing, and sing.  Could actually carry a bit of a tune.  It isn't hard to break a fluffy mind, believe me I know. Now milk bags were mares chemically treated to constantly produce milk with bi-weekly injections.  Babies went straight from their mothers to these fucking monstrous fluffies.  The shit they got pumped up with made them so fucking fat it was like they didn't even have legs, just huge, floppy teats and a head.   Oh, and four teat mares only, that way two babies can feed since they lay on their right side all the time.  They cranked out so much milk it didn't matter that no one rotated the six or eight babies in there with 'em, every fluffy got enough. Their cages had rubberized heating blankets so the babies didn't freeze, and we strapped the milk bags down so they couldn't "accidentally" roll over them.  Didn't stop the bitches from trying though, they hated the babies and kept on screaming about stealing their good babies milk.  Fat fucks always thought they were pregnant!  Even when they could SEE mares that were giving birth every month, stupid milk bags were always talking to their bellies, asking the babies to please come out.  Or scream at them for being bad babies and making mommy so huge, either way it was worth a laugh.  They had the worst attitudes of the bunch, whining about their bed sores, not being able to move, where their babies were and especially the bad babies stealing their precious milk. Despite being as close to perfectly round as a living animal can be a few managed to kill some foals.  They convinced them to come up to their heads to get a hug, and instead were bit on the neck and thrashed to death.  I personally fixed that.  Found some plexiglass on the cheap and cut in holes just big enough for the milk bag's heads.  Then popped them in place, wired it in and there you go, still had feeding access with none of the infanticide.  With their heads completely separate from the rest of the world all they could do is cry and bitch, made it even easier to shove the feeding tube down their throats too.  And when they finally dried up and couldn't give milk?  Starvation 'till their flesh wasn't so stretched and skinned if enough fluff was intact.  Usually one side was absolutely covered in bed sores but they were truly massive for a fluffy, there was still enough viable material for a hat or something.  If not, soccer in the back lot got pretty popular. Oh shit ya, almost forgot the family, listen to this it's a riot.  One time we skinned down a mom, this was before we took the babies away keep in mind, they all lived in the same cage for a month.  Anyway we skin and treat her, and building two sends back a vest with Mikhailo and Yakiv's latest and greatest, fluffy clothing with the faces still there.  You'd have holes where the mouth, nose, ears and nose were but they could fix it so the face still stuck out a bit, like a fluffy face that'd been flattened with a frying pan.  It's fuckin' eerie, but fluffy hate was at an all time high and some folk didn't mind standing out in a crowd.  Actually, that was kinda the point wasn't it? So we've got this vest with two faces on the back, mommy's mug on the bottom half.  I toss it in the cage with her kids and we all gathered 'round to watch.  Took 'em a minute but once they really sniffed it good and caught on, man you've never heard a sound like that in your life.  They recognized her and absolutely flipped their shit!  We even took turns sticking their heads into the mouth hole, working it like a puppet and I kid you not, one of 'em died of fright right there.  The other two were so fucked up we had to skin 'em early, they kept trying to kill themselves and that coulda' damaged the fluff.  Can't have that, it was a business after all. Not really makin' myself out to be a hero huh?  Like I could give a damn.  YOU work with those screaming, shitting, crying, bitching hairballs for FOUR YEARS and we'll see how much you like 'em after.  Besides, that's just the appetizer.  If you missed the boat before, what came next'll blow your fucking mind. End part 1

[toranistheauthor]

Too funny not to reblog if you know the community.

It’s very important to keep inventory.

[toranistheauthor]

Loved this one.  Very inventive and fits Tiffany perfectly, she has a bit of a sense of humor.

Gone Fishing

“How much do I owe ya?”

Sarah looks at you funny, tilting her head. “Why would you want this one? It’s brown. Even worse, it’s pale brown.”

“It’s not for my stock, I’m using it for something else tomorrow.”

“I’m not even going to ask. Just take it.”

“Pway wif babeh?” the pale pegasus foal asks, squirming in your hand. She’s about a week and a half old; still young enough to call herself a baby, which is exactly what you need. Foal in hand, you walk out of the shop and get in your car, setting the baby in the passenger seat.

“Babeh hung’y, can haf miwkies?”

You smile a little as you drive off. You’ve got enough milk mixed up to feed her for one night, which is all she’s going to require. “Sure, when I get home I’ll give you milk.”

Read More

[toranistheauthor]

Alleyway Herds

Alleyway Fluffies http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ Warning:  This story contains no no abuse or violence, but a stark reality.  Viewer discretion is advised. In the big cities, and I mean the biggest cities of the U.S, many fluffy herds manage to eke out a living. People call them a lot of different things, but no matter where you are, the government gives them the same official name. Alleyway herds. And there is one rule all alleyway fluffies must follow. It's a simple one, but critically important. Never, EVER be caught by the humans. All smarty friends of the alleyways know this. They teach it to every member in their herd. Clever fluffies catch on and keep clear of humans whenever they can. The others die. Die, or are taken away as the human scoops them up into bags, nets, or with their bare hands and walks away. Often to shelters where they're at least fed and warm, but the fluffies don't know that. Not even the smartest fluffy knows, to them being taken by a human means being gone for good. Some forget the rule, like mothers or fathers who foolishly let their children play where humans can find them. Then, they are gone. The herd has to stop distraught parents from giving chase however they can, even if it means smothering them. They forgot the rule, and going after their lost child puts not only their lives at risk, but the herds as well. In their grief they didn't realize or couldn't accept their children were gone. Gone the moment it was picked up. And the herd can't risk itself to go after a few foals or a wayward friend, no matter how much it hurts. It's sad when foals or friends are taken away, but the herd has to survive. Best to forget all about those fluffies, they never come back. Life in the maze of side streets, condemned buildings, pathways, spaces between structures and various crevices is both dangerous and varied. They alleyways are wide-ranging, twisting, winding and forever changing. Humans put things there only to take them away later. The pattern (garbage day, backdoor deliveries to buisnesses etc.) is too much for a fluffy to understand, but there's opportunity in this frequent movement. Food can appear suddenly where there was none moments before. Shelter and places to hide could be just around the corner. But so could any number of things, its different every day. Those who try to leave, try to find a new home away from the humans and filth and predators face something even more terrifying and lethal. The roads. There isn't a single mile of road in any major city of the eastern United States without some brightly colored fluff caked to it. Fluffies are adept at picking the worst possible time to try and cross them, their bodies and piles of shed fluff clogging gutters everywhere is a testament to that. And some face miles of walking to escape their concrete prison, without even knowing which way to go. Only desperate fluffies take the drastic step of walking the roads. Those cast out from their herds for the most serious transgressions, or fear of the many things that prey upon them be it rat or dog or cat. Them, and the ones driven mad. Fluffies were designed to love and be loved in return, those who don't find that kind of connection and are isolated from their kin won't last long mentally. The rest have come to fear the open roads through personal experience or stories told by smarties and parents to foals. So they stay. Stay in an environment not conductive to a fluffies well being. Having no where else to go they scratch out whatever meager existence conditions allow. Alleyway herds are small, no more than forty fluffies and rarely that many. Twenty is a more common number, but the herds themselves are ever changing too. Merging, splitting, finding new homes, losing old ones to other herds, members disappearing around the corner, never to return. Disease. Birth. Predators. Raids. Getting lost, or worst of all. Getting found. Alleyway fluffies must be ever cautious, staying together and rapid reproduction is their only chance for survival. Mares are often the target of raids from other herds, or foals if they can be convinced their new family is better. A little violence is usually enough to make any young fluffy have a change of heart. If it doesn't a lot of violence is used, but for a different purpose. Better to kill a foal who refuses to step in line than give it back and make the a different herd one member stronger. Fluffies who are best friends as foals may be fighting viciously over a fallen garbage can some day. It's all for the herd. Loyalty born of desperation, hunger and fear of being alone. Alone. The worst case scenario for a fluffy. Conceived to hold cute little conversations, dance and play clumsily, be silly and feel wonderful to hug; that's the extent of a fluffy ponies abilities. And that's why they need numbers to accomplish anything, survival included. Other fluffies usually aren't that hard to find in the alleys, but are rarely friendly to strangers. The old behavior, fluffies meeting each other and saying things like "fwiend? pway? gif huggies?" is little more than vague memories for the alleyway fluffy. They have to learn much as foals, about friend or foe, about hiding and staying quiet. There are no adult alleyway fluffies who haven't learned these lessons. You were alone for days, it's amazing you didn't go mad. Too scared to leave the safety of the space under a dumpster, yet too frantic for fluffy company to stay. Luckily, hugs came to you. A mare and her foals had been cautiously searching for a place to hide from monsters. She was the most welcome, most beautiful fluffy you'd ever laid eyes on. Back then her babies were still drinking milk and riding her back, now they eat solid food and will be full grown in another month. That's a lot of mouths to feed, food you have to find for them, her, and yourself. That's your job. You're their daddy now. What's more, she bore you a litter who are close to weaning and is again large with another. She can't walk or help you gather food. It's much harder finding enough for every mouth. But considering the alternative... Your family is what keeps you going. And you have to keep going. They all depend on you. Your special friend, the foals, your babies and the ones that are yet to be born. Food, food is what's most important now. Ignore the fear that makes your blood run cold. Ignore the horrible sounds that echo throughout the alleyways you live in. Ignore the pain in your right front leg and chest, there has to be food nearby. Up ahead is a small group of fluffies, two adults and some foals. None say hi or ask to play, they all keep a careful watch as you pass. The days of asking random fluffies for hugs and playing are long gone. Before you lived here, that was the natural thing to do. But you've learned quickly, if you hadn't, you'd be dead like so many others. Fluffies that never got to taste spaghetti, or know what it felt like to have a human stroke your fluff. Mommy and Daddy were the nice humans you lived with in the before days. That's how you remember things, before becoming an alleyway fluffy and after. Most of the happy memories come from the before time. They fed you, kept you warm, played games and gave lots of hugs. But when they said you couldn't have special friends, couldn't have babies, everything changed. You didn't understand the biological urges pumping through you, only that you needed to find a special friend and give her hugs from behind. With the scent of every mare within half a mile fueling your desire, a decision was made. Special hugs were more important than mommy and daddy. So one day you waddled off when mommy brought you to the park, she was talking to her black box with the pretty lights, making it easy to shuffle down a close by alley and disappear. You didn't know it at the time, but choosing to walk away would change your life forever. There would be no mommy and daddy, no hugs, no yummy nummies, no warm house. You weren't a pet anymore. You were an alleyway fluffy. Free to do as you please. Free to find a special friend and have babies. Free to spend days without food, having the worst tummy owwies you've ever had. Free to have meanie fluffies steal the food you found and give you hurties. Free to dream of the days spent laying on your daddy's lap while he stroked your back. And free to remember what happiness was like. Still, despite your hardships and a crash course in fluffy survival it hasn't been ALL bad. You have a special friend now, and a growing family! A family that needs a lot of food to keep going. That's another freedom you've discovered. If you don't find enough food you're free to watch your babies get smaller, weaker, and eventually die. All while they beg mommy for the milk she doesn't have because you didn't provide for her. So you push on, sniffing at everything that could be edible, pawing at the big black bags humans leave out when the giant green metal boxes are full. Like the one you've just come across, and it's already open! You give a quick look both ways before waddling in fast as you can, time is super important! The horrible smells that'd have pushed you back two months ago barely even register as your head plunges in, hauling out everything with even a hint of good tastes. Success! You know this food, it's flat and has lots of different flavors to it. The red runny part reminds you so much of spaghetti... it's a great food you've found. It'll help your special friend make milk and the older foals will have full tummies tonight! "Pwease, pwease gif nummies?  Tummeh soooooo huwties!" Two other fluffies, both pegasus and dark colors you don't know the names of. Your ears flatten out a bit, you'd hoped to drag out even more food but being interrupted changes things. "Dis nummies fo' speciawl fwiend an' babbehs.  Yu fin' own nummies in dere." You motion with your horn towards the trash bag and lift up your mostly intact slice of pizza, ready to find the two turns that'll take you back to your family. "Buh tummehs haf wowstest owwies!  Dat weal good nummies, pwease gif nummies!" "Pwease, nu haf nummies fo' wong time, pwease gif." They're approaching slowly but staying low and non threatening. It could be they're new to the alleyways. But they're also filthy and smell even worse than the bag you got this food from. You don't like it. Picking up the food you waddle around them and back the way you came while mumbling about the bag and pointing at it again with your horn. They both make their move, charging and trying to steal what you've found for your family! The first one lunges with his mouth open, looking to grab your tail and slow you down. It's a bad idea, your back left leg lashes out and catches him right on the tip of his nose. *Thwack*  "Owwie!  Why huwt fwuffy?" That's stopped him but his friend is almost beside you now, reaching with her mouth for one side of the food. She's quick and is only inches from what's yours, the sheer size of it is cumbersome enough to slow your waddle considerably. When she's just inches away, you turn your head and jerk it hard as you can to the left, letting go of your precious cargo for just a second. *squelch*! "GAAHHHHHHH!!!  OWWWIEEEEE!!!  OWWWIEEEEEE!!!  WAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" Your horn penetrates her large, glassy blue eye with all the force a fluffy neck can muster. The sound is sickening, but you know she'll stop chasing you now, that's all that matters. Far behind she shrieks and thrashes around on the ground, clutching at the draining socket with both front hooves while wailing in agony. You don't even look back. It's been over two months of learning alleyway fluffy life the hard way. Those two wanted to take food from your babies mouths, maybe even hurt you. They got what they deserved. Bad fluffies, they were bad fluffies. That's what you keep telling yourself as the tears threaten to come. Your family is all that matters, it's what you left your warm and happy human home for. Instinct drove you to the alleyways looking for a mate, and instinct drives you to protect food and family with all your strength. It's a clumsy shuffle back home, past the small family huddled behind two garbage cans. This time they give you an entirely new look, but still not a friendly one. They want what you've got, but you don't even slow down or acknowledge them. That stallion would try to take the food if you had, just like you would if the situation were reversed. The families survival, that's all you're concerned with. You're pounced upon. Foals and babies alike are giving hugs all over when you finally return home under the dumpster. The hugs are warm and welcome, even though their faces are streaked with tears. The older foals quickly break away and dig in. It's okay, they hadn't eaten since the last time it was light. Your mate greets you from where she lay on her side, unable to move from having babies inside. She's so large her tummy even touches the dumpster above her, this might be a big litter. You have three foals who are hungrily devouring the pizza you'd brought back and three babies, two who are suckling and the last... Where is the little grey one? "Whea gwey babbeh?"  You ask your special friend, noticing the tears pooling beneath her head. "Wat munsta come, big wat munsta come an'... an'... babbeh...huuuuuu hu hu..." You drag your aching body over and sit, wrapping your hooves around her head as she cries into your belly fluff. Another baby gone. Two of four. It's like being stabbed in the chest with a freezing cold unicorn horn. While the foals eat and babies suckle, the two of you hold onto each other and cry once again. The first baby you lost, a yellow pegasus, had strayed out from under the dumpster for just a moment. A cat monster had it before you could blink. You charged, yelling and trying to jab it with your horn. But it easily avoided you and slashed your right front leg as the clumsy attempt at rescue failed. Then it hopped on top of your dumpster home, forcing the whole family to listen to your babies cries for help and hugs, followed by screams of pain and agony until a sharp, jarring shriek. Then silence. A few moments later the cat monster was back down, dropped the limp, yellow body and turned to fish out another snack. You'd put yourself between it and your special friend, knowing this was probably your last moment. But a sudden loud clack noise frightened the monster, it darted right past your makeshift home when a piece of the wall behind it opened up and two humans emerged. Instead of rushing out to see if your baby was okay, you did what your special friend always said. Never go near the humans. Despite your past with mommy and daddy she had convinced you of what would happen, now they frightened you more than just about anything else. You obeyed the rules and stayed hidden. "9 to 1, it was a fuckin' slaughter... ugh is that... was that a fluffy?" "Yep.  Looks like a cat, or maybe a seagull got it.  Either way it's picked pretty clean, just toss it in with the garbage." "Lovely." They set something down right beside your home, it smelled quite tasty whatever it was. There was a very loud squeak from above and the new things were lifted up and out of sight. The foals and babies all clung to their mother and cried, but one screamed at the sound before you could hush her. "Hear that?" "Just the fluffies living under the dumpster, ignore them and they'll ignore you." "All right.  I guess it was one of theirs, poor thing." "Happens all the time out here.  Don't try to feed them, they don't trust humans and the boss doesn't want them begging at the back door all day anyway." When they went away you limped out, sniffing the ground where your baby had been dropped. Only a few spots of blood and scent betrayed that he had ever been there at all. You'll never know if the baby was all right or not, those humans took him away. The rules were broken, and your baby was gone. You did your best to follow them but the cat monster had rules of it's own. On that day you all cried until it was dark time, just like you'll cry now for the grey unicorn baby that looked so much like you.... But he's gone, like the little yellow one. And you have to keep going. No matter how much it hurts, all fluffies have to keep going. The foals have devoured half the slice of pizza you brought back, both babies are nestled in their mothers fluff and sleeping, and now it's her turn to feed. It's enough for you both, at least for now. Tomorrow would be a new day with new challenges, new things in the alleyways and hopefully, new reasons to smile. You could really use a few more of those. As for tonight, you'll be too busy crying for the little grey baby, the one that looked so much like you... back when you lived in warm, safe house with good food and loving humans. Back when you were happy. End

[toranistheauthor]

Love this one for how the babies are drawn, with just the top of their backs and heads visible instead of laying on top of mommy's fluff like so many others draw.

((Never Leave Momma - Part One))

My head’s still throbbing… But no one escapes. No one.

[toranistheauthor]

The baby looks so cute in the last panel suckling.  If only it'd look up and see what was coming...  Still get speared through the noggin of course, I just want it to know what's going to happen.

((Never Leave Momma - Part 2))

Heh. Haha. Ha. Hehahaha.

[toranistheauthor]

Babbeh - part 4

Babbeh - Part 4 http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ Warning:  This story contains no abuse, just life from a 3 day old fluffy's perspective.  View discretion is not advised yet. Rumbling, churning, gurgling. That's what wakes you, the first sound you hear on your third day of life. Tummy owwies. Your mind immediately goes back to what it knows instinctively:  Find a teat. You give your tiny legs a little stretch and try blinking away the darkness, but it doesn't go. It's still dark time and you can't see at all. If you couldn't feel the rise and fall of mommy's chest, the beating of her heart, her comforting scent and most importantly, her fluff, you'd be terrified right now. But she's there, like she always is, and the dark is just a hindrance. You slowly make your way forward, head barely higher than mommy's fluff, trying to locate that all important teat. *click* Light fills the world. It surprises you, the sudden switch hurts your eyes. "Sorry, just needed the mop.  And good morning, you'll get breakfast soon as I'm done cleaning up the guts." Before you can even blink the pain away, mommy has you swept up in her hooves. Her heart beats very fast, you now know that happens when she's scared. You can hear the other fluffies around starting to wake and mumble things. "YAAAWWNNNNN... nuhm... nummies?" "Pway?" "Keep yourselves entertained until then." It's a giant fluffy, but he leaves quickly as he comes, the brightness left behind even though the part of the world he opened had closed with him. When he's gone, mommy lets go and you and your brother both start crawling down to her teats. Your sister remains cradled in mommy's legs, she walks funny now and cries almost all the time. When something jostles her wings it's even worse, mommy says her wingies have big owwies and not to touch them when giving hugs. You didn't understand at first, and have forgotten a few times since but mommy always reminds you gently; hugs with sissy are much slower and gentler than they used to be. That makes you a bit sad, but you can still hug your brother and tap hooves together while drinking milk. Other fluffies are talking loudly now, you can make out some words, especially "wan miwk", two you try to use a lot. Your words don't always come out like you want, its frustrating sometimes. Despite drinking quickly, the tummy owwies take a long time make smaller, your brother drinks a lot too and you suckle for as long as mommy will allow. All too soon, mommy puts sissy down beside you for her turn. "Wan' miwk." You're tummy owwies are still here, that means you haven't had enough. "Wan' babbeh miwk wan'!" You understand what she wants even if her words come out wrong like yours, but you can't stop just yet, both you and your brother are still feeding fast as you can. She stands with a rear leg raised off mommy's fluff and starts crying again. It's a sound you've become used to. She nudges you with her head, trying to push you away but your legs spread out, this is the best way to stay on a teat. She pushes harder and suddenly shrieks, her anger at not getting milk made her flap her injured wings reflexively. Mommy scoops her up and gives light, warm hugs while sissy cries into her leg. You feel bad, if you weren't so hungry you'd have given up the teat. But tummy owwies are tummy owwies, there's only one way to fix them. The world gets even brighter with a click noise. "Ok everyone, time for breakfast." "Nummies!" "Wan' nummies!" "Munsta stay 'way!" * Snore * "Babbehs happeh, nu take pwease!" "Pwease gif, tummeh so huwtie, pwease gif wots nummies!" It's a giant fluffy again, but you're facing the wrong way to see what it's doing. Turn and look or keep suckling, what to do? ... ...... ......... Suckling. "Marble, here's yours.  Remember to chew slower this time, I don't want you choking again." "Mawble sowwy, pwease gif moar nummies?  Haf big tummy owwies, babbehs nu haf 'nuff miwk.  Mawble gif huggies, pwease moar nummies fo' Mawble?" "You get exactly as it says on the bag and no more.  Two big scoops, that's all for now.  It's more than most of the others get." You hear a cascade of clattering noises. "Buh Mawble nu haf 'nuff miwk fo' babbehs!  Pwease, need moar nummies!" "I'll talk to the boss lady about it but don't expect miracles.  She let you keep your babies this time, wasn't that nice of her?" "Mawble wuv babbehs!  Babbehs wuv Mawble too!  Buh babbehs cwy, haf tummy owwies wike mummeh, babbehs need moar miwk.  Pwease, moar nummies fo' miwkies?" "Sorry but them's the rules, this is your breakfast for now.  Be good and chew slowly.  Now Coral, you ready for yours?" "Cowwa nu hungies, nu wan' nummies." "Mawble haf yu nummies!" "Quiet Marble.  What's wrong Coral?  Mommies need to eat and make milk so their babies grow up big and strong, right?" "Cowwa nu wan' nummies, tummy nu haf owwies, nu hungies." "You have to eat at least once every day Coral.  I know you didn't have anything last night which means you definitely eat now." You hear the same clatter as before, it's a familiar sound. "Cowwa nu hungies, make sikkies if haf too many nummies.  An' poopies huwt Cowwa, bad poopies huwt poopie pwace.  Pwease tewl poopie pwace nu huwt Cowwa?" "Heh, well... if it keeps up I'll have a look at it, I guess.  What's important now is that you eat, you're stomach is empty.  What about your twins?  They're crying about being hungry." "Babbeh wan' miwk, mummeh gif miwk pwease!" "Miwk fo' babbeh, pwease mummeh?" "Babbehs dwink aw Cowwa's miwk, dunno why babbehs stiw hungies." "It's because you aren't eating enough yourself.  Jesus, what's he putting in this stuff?" "Cowwa nu hungies, buh twy fo' babbehs." "That's a good girl, eat 'till your tummy is completely full." "Mawble stiw hungies!" "Quiet Marble." An idea suddenly hits! What about getting up, turning to face the giant fluffy, then laying down and back to suckling? It's a great idea! You do so with a little effort, working your way through mommy's wonderfully thick fluff. It's a male giant fluffy you think. And he's carrying something under one foreleg. How do they do that and walk at the same time? "Nel, breakfast." "Yay!  Nummies fo' Newl" "At least you appreciate it.  How are your babies?" "Babbehs wuv Newl. Happeh, wahm babbehs.  Newl wuv babbehs, tank yu fo' wetting Newl keep aw babbehs!." "You're welcome, here you go." The giant fluffy put something down in that mommy's home, she took her babies off just to get to it. It must be really important, mommy never ever puts you off her fluff. "Manh hmooo" "Don't talk with your mouth full.  Gilly?  Come on Gilly, it's only feeding time." "NU!  Hooman take babbehs if Giwwy wet go, meanie hooman nu take babbehs!" "Ya' know, before all this started you were the happiest, nicest one of the bunch.  That's why we picked you for this little detail.  And nobodies tried taking your babies, have they?" "Hooman wan' take babbehs, hoomans wie!  Munstas nu haf Giwwy babbehs!  Gif wowstest owwies!" "I wonder if he's slipping LSD in your chow.  And if you try to spark at my hand again you'll be getting the sorry stick, count on it." "Nu open Giwwy cage den!" *click* "Too late, I already put your food bowl in.  Feel free to dine at your leisure, I'm here to serve." "Dummy hooman WEAVE!  Mah bebbehs, NU MUNSTAS TAKE BABBEHS!!!" "Good to see you too." That mommy is saying mean words to him. Or saying words meanly, something like that. But the giant fluffy does the same thing he did with the last fluffy home, opened the top and put something inside it. You really want to see what it is, but that would mean leaving mommy's fluff AND no more suckling. Can't have that. "Wonder what crawled up her ass... Maple, ready for breakfast?  Maple?" He's at the home right beside yours, holding something with it's own scent. You sniffle long at the air, it's a familiar smell too. The scent actually makes your tummy owwies more pronounced, you have to pay attention and drink more before mommy moves you off. The giant fluffy reaches down and strokes the mommy beside you, she's still having sleepies, so are her babies. That looks fun, you want to be stroked by his big hooves too. "Maple, time to get up, I've got your food here." "Yaaawwwwnnnnn.... Mapwl sweepy, pwease weave nummies fo' afta." "Oh, all right then princess, would you like a warm bath after luncheon?" "Mapwl... nu wike baff." "Yours must have a sedative or something." You watch him straighten up to full height, it's still a little scary seeing just how HUGE giant fluffies can be. He takes a few steps away, makes some noises and returns, this time to your own home! You try to snuggle in deeper but mommy has other ideas, she scoops you and your brother up in one leg. No fair! You weren't finished yet, what about milk? "Good morning Stella, paranoid as ever I see.  Here's breakfast." "Stewwa gud mummeh, babbehs wuv mummeh." "Yes, I know." *click* He's opening the top of your home just like the others. Mommy squeezes a little harder, your sister cries out and squeaks. Mommy gave her hugs a little too hard. Silly mommy, sissy's wingies and leg have hurties, you have to give soft hugs. He set something down inside your home, it has a strong scent and even mommy's nosey twitches at it. "Enjoy." With that he closes your home and begins to get up. "Pway babbeh?" "Shhhhh, babbeh nu tawkies wif hooman, be gud babbeh." But you are a good baby, aren't you? Fluffies should play and hug each other, you just want to play with the giant fluffy. "You again huh?  Tell you what, if you ask mommy real nicely I'll play with you just a bit.  But that'll have to wait, I have a lot of fluffies to check on." And he walks away, the world opening up for him and closing once again. "Babbehs be gud, mummeh haf nummies an' make miwkies fo' yu." What did that mean? You want to be a good baby, are you doing something wrong? Then mommy does something unexpected, she starts picking your family off her fluff one by one, and setting them down on the thin, floppy thing. Just like the other mommies! She even takes a few steps away, you're shocked! Her head dips down into whatever that giant fluffy brought and she's... it's like drinking, but not. Wait, has this happened before? ...... You can't remember, but one thing's for sure, you don't like this situation at all! Mommy setting you aside makes your chest feel cold and hurtie, you've got to get back into her fluff. "Babbeh wuv!" "Mummeh miwk!" "Huggies wuv!" Your words failed you again, that wasn't right. And mommy kept on doing what she's doing, is she mad at you? Getting up off your rear you start an ungainly, clumsy waddle over to her. Your brother and sister have the same idea, but she's still walking funny and cries with every step. The shuffle over is slow and ponderous, you aren't used to walking without fluff on all sides to help hold you up. Your tummy gurgles and feels funny the whole time, you don't like that feel. You also don't like how it felt stepping in a yucky wet spot your brother left behind. It was so icky that you did it too, now your tail feels heavy. Well, at least your tummy feels a bit better. No, not better, different. Your walk is really dangerous too! More than once do you hit a little bump in the soft thing and fall down. No tears though, you're a good baby and only good babies get back in mommy's fluff. It seemed like quite a long trek (less than two feet) but you've made it to mommy's legs. The three of you babble and tap your hooves against hers, trying to get some attention. "Babbehs wan' pway?  Mummeh haf nummies fiwst, den pway and gif huggies." Why isn't she laying back down? Her fluff is too high up to reach, so are her teats. You're reduced to sitting on your bum and leaning against mommy's leg, hugging it with all four of your own. Sissy gently lays down beside you and cries some more. Brother walks under mommy and stretches up high as he can, his mane just grazing mommy's belly fluff but no higher. So close. You really want mommy to finish what she's doing and comfort you, it's scary being out of her fluff for so long. You've never been out like this for so long before... have you? Faint memories of a cold bum waft through your mind. It's hard to remember things sometimes, you don't know why. "Babbeh mummeh! Babbeh miwk!" No matter how hard you try, words never work when you need them. There's no more holding back, the tears start flowing. And your sister... well she always cries now. Three softly weeping foals who don't understand the world around them, desiring what's both familiar and instinctual. Without it, you cling to each other for comfort and warmth. At least mommy is so close, if she went away you don't know what you'd do. Just thinking of it makes your chest hurties even worse. A fluffy voice behind mommy catches your ear, but many of the words make no sense to you. "Nu cwy babbehs, mummeh haf nummies, yu bak in mummeh's fwuff weal soon! Words. They're important, you need to learn them but most just don't sound right, they don't click in your mind like the words love, milk and mommy do. Even speaking them is a guessing game, only sometimes do the proper ones come out even if you're thinking of just the right thing. Being a baby can be hard sometimes. Brother came back and latches onto both you and mommy's leg too, he seems scared. "Babbeh miwk huwt?" It's hard understanding what he says. Same thing with your sister, it's like the words aren't doing what they're supposed to. If only your words would stop being meanies and come out the right way. At least you're together, the three of you at mommy's leg, hugging and tapping and begging for affection. You really hope mommy isn't angry. It's scary, your siblings are crying and the cold away from mommy's fluff is miserable both outside and in your chest. * Splish * And now your bottom is wet again. And oh, your tummy! It gurgles and roils, the owwies didn't get any better even after that bad, wet release. There's a growing pain in there, it climbs higher than your tummy quickly. Climbs and burns like nothing before, your crying reaches a new height. Something is really wrong! You squeeze mommy's leg for all it's worth, terrified of what's happening inside you, wanting to feel safe and warm and happy again. To drink milk and smell mommy's scent. Milk Mi.... Owwie! OWWIEEEEEEE *hurk* !!! * Huuurrrrggggghh * You wretch up everything in your tummy onto mommy's leg, trying to scream and breathe at the same time. * Koff koff he- koff... hurgh! * A little more comes out, it's awful hurties. Your brother falls onto his back trying to get away from the disgusting mess, sissy is so surprised she flaps her wings and screams in pain for doing it. You feel terrible, covered in sticky mess, your insides still raging and tears continue to flow. It even came out of your nosey. You've no idea what happened but between coughing and wailing you beg mommy to make it all go away, you've never been this scared before. "Miwk *koff* mummeh *koff koff* miwk hewp!  Waaahhh! *koff koff* " Even your words hurt you, every syllable burns your throat. Suddenly you're falling forward. * whump * Face down into your own mess. You're scared, hurt and desperate for mommy to make it all better. "Owwie mummeh!" Close enough. It came out as a sort of plea for help which was the best you could do. Slowly pushing off of the goopy, soft floppy thing, you look up weakly. And there she is, her nosey nuzzling the top of your head lightly. "Babbehs aw siwwy.  Mummeh hewp." She'd moved her leg to turn and get back to you. You're so relieved to see her smiling face the tears gush once again. But these are good tears though, happy tears. She'll make it all better. "Nuuuuu, babbeh make sikkies?  Babbeh haf huwties?  Mummeh gif huggies, make babbeh bettah. She rolls onto her back and places your siblings gently on her teats while you sit on your bum, holding both forelegs up and waiting your turn. And when she reaches down, it's warmer and sweeter than any hug before. You hug right back with all your diminished strength, trying to tell mommy how much you love her but throat hurties stop your words before they can come out. "Babbeh need be cwean, mummeh hewp babbeh." She licks you all over and wipes your front with her legs, occasionally mumbling something about "yikky" you don't understand. Your stomach finally settles while in her embrace, you knew mommy's hugs could make you better. After a few minutes of attention and hugs, the throat burnies calm themselves and you try thanking her again. "Miwk wuv." It hurt a little and the words were wrong. But again, close enough. At least love was in there. She took it a different way than you intended, and moves you down to her teats. The idea of drinking right now isn't very appealing. ... Well, maybe it's a little appealing. A minute later she lifts your brother away despite his protests. You're on the teat and suckling away without thinking about it. "Babbehs ah'ways wan' miwk.  Babbehs gonna be big, stwong fwuffies!" Suckling hard, you gulp down every drop while hugging mommy hard as your little legs can. Your tummy owwies ease off a bit with every sip. The stress of the last few minutes melts away into contented bliss, the kind every baby feels nestled in their mommy's fluff. You can't imagine a better place to be. Even if it's darker now and there aren't as many fluffies as before... Wait... Why aren't there as many fluffies as before? ... It doesn't matter, you're suckling and you're happy, that's the important thing. But drink as you may, it never seems quite enough. Your tummy owwies never completely go away, sometimes it's so bad they bring tears to your eyes. You wish mommy would let you suckle all the time, but then there would be no time for play or hugs. Every fluffy needs hugs, mommy says so and they make you feel warm on the inside too. Hugs and milk, that's what a baby needs. You're silently glad when she lifts your sister away to give brother a turn. That means you can drink longer while she has hugs. Fine with you, it's time to do something about these tummy owwies. * In the bosses office, end of the day * "How was our brood today?" "The different chow formulas are keeping the mothers going, but almost all of them have shown little physical or behavioral changes that wouldn't be common for average fluffies. "So the exact opposite of what we're hoping for.  I shouldn't be surprised all things considered, some examples?" "Coral would be an obvious one, she doesn't want to eat despite never touching her bowl yesterday.  She also complains of "owwie poopies" and there's some blood in her litter box.  Her babies are constantly hungry too, she's running dry and that shouldn't happen with only two babies." "If Coral kicks the bucket before they're weaned I want those babies with the feeders.  There's no point in wasting them and he never asked for the babies afterwards, just a written report." "Some of them might not be salvageable." "Keep me updated, a few have popular color schemes and would make good coin... Just be sure they're healthy.  We've got a good reputation for high quality foals and it's gonna stay that way.  On the other hand... How about oddballs?  Anything we could sell as a novelty?" "It doesn't look that way, at least not yet.  None glow in the dark or anything like that." "If we had a glowing baby fluffy I'd be able to retire!  Anything else?" "One of Stella's babies apparently puked pretty hard, I never saw it but she told me after a little prodding.  The one who always asks to play, no matter whats happening." "Well it happens sometimes right?  And friendly foals make for good pets." "I've seen the babies downstairs puke only a handfull of times, it's rarely a good sign.  And being friendly is fine, that's typical fluffy stuff but all three of Stella's litter seem a little... off." "How so?" "I don't think they've learned many new words, plus the way they speak is clumsy and usually gibberish.  Normally a baby can speak in full, if limited sentences by now.  I had high hopes for one, but now I'm not even sure if they understand the couple words they say." "Great.  Well... keep an eye on 'em, some fluffies turn out to be late bloomers, right?  Think about how many babies you've almost tossed in the trash because they didn't respond without a little encouragement.  Are there any serious problems with them yet?" "Nothing freaky except for Gilly's sudden attitude adjustment.  If I'm too slow with the food bowl she'll attack my hand.  "You're too soft on them.  When they pull that shit, straighten 'em out right away.  And do a GOOD job of it, I can't stand the merchandise mouthing off to me." "Sarah, believe me, she's already had a few dances with the sorry stick.  She'll cry and beg for forgiveness and be back to snarling five minutes later.  Your friend must be putting some kinda drug in her chow." "Doubt it.  Jay's looking for the absolute cheapest fluffy chow recipe possible, the bare minimum that'll keep one alive and not complaining.  That's why he needs us to see how a breeding mare and her rat pack react to his cheap ass food too.  I bet at least one of 'em is eating mostly sawdust." "That'd be Marble if you ask me, she's constantly complaining about how hungry she is despite two full scoops at every mealtime.  Her babies say the same thing, there isn't enough milk for all four.  That reminds me, she asked for more food." "What's it say on the bag?" "Two scoops per feeding." "Then that's what she gets." "Okay, but her babies really do look a little skinny to my eye." "Unfortunately I promised Jay we'd let nature take it's course so to speak, no feeding the babies anything, just mommy's milk.  But if Marble croaks, we can stick them with a proper feeder and hopefully sell the little suckers later.  He's technically renting those six mares now but if I can get some babies outta them, so much the better.  And he knows the price goes up if any of my breeders die." "I'd better get back downstairs.  One of the new mares waved her fanny at Tiffany and now she's covered in shit.  The mare I mean. "If Tiffany were covered in shit I'd be running for my car right now." "This whole place would be a write off." "Heh, well keep at it and hopefully we can sell a couple of the better looking ones." "Yes ma'am." * Meanwhile, in the closet home of the test fluffies * "Now where is that dustpan... hmmmmmmm... " "Sc...scawy hooman..." "Hiya girls, miss me?" End part 4 Special thanks to Mayclore who allowed me to use his characters.  I'd planned on revealing who the humans were and where this was taking place in the last chapter, but after I posted the first part an anon asked if it was Sarah and Tiffany, it's hardly a secret now.  So I guess I'm not as smart as I thought I was.  Yes this is the Foal Factory and the various handlers are from there as well.  http://pastebin.com/u/Mayclore  -  Read his stuff in the off chance you haven't already, it's some of the best fluffy stories you'll ever find.  Not hugbox, not abusefan, simply stories about fluffies that just happen to have those elements in them.

[toranistheauthor]

Fluff wash part 8

Fluff Wash part 8 http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ Warning:  This story contains fluffies dying in unpleasant ways and a man slowly losing it.  Viewer discretion is advised. Dinnertime Gilligan! "Pwease nu weave!  Giwwigan wan' huggies, pwease gif huggies an' pway!" I'm here to feed you and check your symptoms, after that it's back to work on my unholy abomination of a fluffy washer. "Giwwigan wonewy, pwease nu weave, haf bad saddies.  Gif wotsa huggies to nice hooman." I wonder what Rain would think about you saying that? "Nu cawe, pwease pway wif Giwwigan, pwease?" Hold still for a sec, I need to check your sinuses. "Giwwigan be gud fwuffy, wisten to hooman." Why can't they all be more like you?  I swear half the fluffies in the "herd" hate my guts and I've never laid a finger on them.  Quit squirming, I'm just taking a mucous sample, it doesn't hurt. "Nosey tikwl, nu nike nis.  *kof kof*  Giwwigan was gud fuwffy, Huggies pwease? Keep holding still. "Giwwigan gud fwuffy!  Giww- owwie!  Nu wike dis!  Nu towch poopie pwace!" I'm taking your temperature and you aren't going anywhere so stop trying to squirm away. "Nu wike!  Pwease nu towch poopie pwace, need make poopies!" And we're done.  I'd better get more plastic slips for this thermometer, I'm running out. "Giwwigan was gud fwuffy, nu wun even wen nu wike poopie pwace towch.  Nao pway?  Nao huggies? You didn't run because I held you down.  Let's see... subject seems to be recovering nicely, less mucous buildup, more active and his temperature is almost normal.  A another two or three days to be sure and he can go back to the herd. "Nu, nu weave!  Giwwigan wan' pway, wan' hewd, wan' fwiend!  Pwease be fwiend, Giwwigan be gud!" Time to pick my next test subject.  Oh, gotta feed streak too.  Goodnight. "Nu weave!  Pwease!  Pwease nu weave!  Fwuffy sowwy, fwuffy wonewy!  Wan' fwiends weal bad, haf wowstest saddies!" * Click * "NUUUUU! NU WEAVE!  PWEASE!  PWEASE NU WEAVE! HUUUU HU HU HU, PWEASE... hu hu hu... pwease... * Gilligan begging for attention can still be heard through the attic door as he walks away. * Okay, let's just get this over with.  It's May 29, 7:44 pm, 2017.  Subject or victim or whatever you wanna call it is an adult female earthie, light blue and an orange mane, feral, named Giggle.  As a side note she's very pregnant, huge for fluffy standards.  But I've measured and the washing arms have enough room to rotate around her while the wire mesh keeps her in place.  No more fuckups, they're locked in place until washing and drying is over.  That limits how well the scrubbing arms can do their job but it's a tradeoff I just had to make.  This one is pretty timid compared to her herd mates, hopefully that means a successful test for once. "Pwease, nu huwt, haf babbehs soon, pwease nu huwt." I'm not going to hurt you, I'm going to make you smell pretty. "Fwuffy aweady smewl pwetty, pwease nu hewp smewl pwetty." It won't hurt if you're a good girl and hold still for the test. "Haf babbehs soon, mummeh nu wan owwies, pwease nice hooman." Nice human?  That's not what you call me when with the rest of the herd.  Last time Rain had you all telling me to go drown.  Speaking of which how is Rain?  Can she move her legs again after I took her out of the sorry box?  Before all she'd do is cry about her legs hurting, maybe that means she'll be a good girl now huh? "Wain say walkies gif huwties, hewd bwing nummies an' wawa to smawtie fwiend. Won't let her starve hmm?  At the very least I admire your dedication to her, despite it being horribly misplaced.  Then again, you always call me names and wave your butts in my direction every goddam time I go down there. "Nu wan be meanie, smawtie fwiend say hewd aw'ways say huwtie wurds to hooman munsta." So now I'm a monster, hm? "NU!  Nu mean say meanie wurds!  Pwease nu huwt, nu wan owwies, fwuffy sowwy!  Pwease, haf babbehs soon!" Calm down.  I said CALM DOWN.  "Nu huwt, haf babbehs soon, wuv babbehs, pwease nu huwt, wuv babbehs." Just do as you're told and I'll return you to your smarty bitch smelling better than ever.  Are you listening to me? "Babbehs... mummeh wuv babbehs... wuv babbehs, nu huwt mummeh, nu huwt babbehs, wuv babbehs, nu huwt mummeh, nu huwt babbehs, wuv babbehs, nu hu-..." Great. Subject has gone into a "fear loop" as I like to call it, she just repeats the same couple things over and over because she can't physically change her situation. Their minds get stuck on whatever it thinks will talk its way out of the bad situation they're in.  I read stroking the mane, back and chin can break them out of it, so... *skritch* *skritch* *skritch* "Babbehs... Nu huwt?  Pwease nu huwt?...  Wuv fwuffy?" I wouldn't take it that far, but no, no hurt. "Am gud fwuffy, be gud fwuffy fo' hooman mu- fo' nice hooman." And they say fluffies never learn.  I'll be using Rand corp's formula N30-332A, supposedly the gentlest of the bunch.  This fluffy seems nice enough when away from her leader and I don't want a repeat of what happened to Sunshine. "Swnshine gud babbeh, gonna get bettah at fwuffy... fwuffy hewp pwace?" Fluffy hospital.  And yeah, they'll fix her hurties.  No more hurties for Sunshine, that I can gaurantee. "Nice hooman hewp babbeh, Swnshine wowd but gud fwuffy." I'd debate you on that.  Now lets get ready to smell pretty. "Am gud fwuffy." Social note, this one doesn't refer to herself with her own name like other fluffies.  She'll only call herself fluffy, never Giggle.  I think that's a name the shelter gave her.  I've noticed she eats last (well, second last besides Huggie but that isn't a problem now) despite being pregnant, Rain must have made her low fluffy on the totem pole for some reason.  She's the one who was feeding boulder, if she hadn't told me he was the smarty's foal I'd have never known. "Wuv Bohwda, teeny widdle babbeh.  Bohwda wike new famwie?"  What?  Boulder?  Oh yes, yes he's very happy with his new family. "Fwuffy see Bohwda?  Nu fwuffie's babbeh buh gif wotsa huggies an miwk." No, they live very far away, but I know he's happy there so don't worry about him. "Fwuffy wan haf babbehs biggah den Bohwda, pwease haf mo' nummies?" That's up to Rain, the leader you willingly follow and besides do you really want to get any bigger?  There must be five or six babies in there. "Haf wots babbehs, so much wuv fo' mummeh, fwuffy so happeh!" Congratulations.  Now Giggle I'm gonna put you inside that clear box and it's gonna clean you up nice. "Nuuuu, nu wan sowwy bawx, fwuffy is gud fwuffy!  Bawx bad fo' babbehs, wuv babbehs, nu huwt babbehs!!!" You don't have a say here- "NU WAN NU WAN, HEWP FWUFFY, NU HUWT BABBEHS, HEWP MUMMEH!  SMAWTIE FWIEND HEWP!  HEWD HEWP!!!" Quit squirming!  Damn what a fatass, you must be near twenty pounds! "NU WAN BAWX!!! HEWWWWP HEWWWWWWP! Quit it!  You're so huge carrying you by the scruff would probably be dang- Oh fuck! "NUUUUUU!  NU WAN!!! DAMMIT!  FUCKING DAMMIT! SO many fluffies and you're the first one that actually shits on me! "Fwuffy sowwy, nu huwt, nu huwt babbeh!  Fwuffy sowwy!" Damn that stinks.  You horrible little monster!  Just get in the fucking Fluff Wash and stay there still I clean up! "NUUU! NU SOWWY BAWX!  GUD FWUFFY GUD BABBEHS PWEASE NU SOWWY BAWX! Get in.... fucking get in... there.  Finally.  Now listen.  LISTEN TO ME!  Paying attention? "Fww-fww-fw-" Great!  All you gotta do is stand there, DON'T MOVE and you'll come out clean.  This does involve water bu- "NUUUU PWEASE WAWA BAD FO' FWU-" SHUT UP!  SHUT.  IT.  NOW!  The water NEVER gets past your neck, you know, the flabby bit that connects your empty head to that beached whale you call a body?  Well?  Do you? "Fwu-fwuffy nu- nu- nu un'stan..." God....  Please God, give me strength.  The water never touches- oh Christ that stinks... the water never touches your face.  Now ya get it?  Not the face, eyes, mouth, snout, fucking NOSEY, nothing.  Your head stays dry. "Nu wawa on fwuffy face?" Not a goddam drop, so there's NO chance of drowning.  None.  Zero.  Okay? "Pwease, haf babbehs weal soon!  Nu wawa pw-" FOR FUCKS SAKE!  Just shut up, HOLD STILL and you'll be FINE!  Now I'm putting it on light wash and getting some new pants.  With the restraints in place even really stupid ones like you can't hurt themselves.  Lets just get your head in the isolation notch an- "NU WIKE! WAN' UP!  HEWD HEWP!  MEANIE MUNSTA GOT FWUFFY!  HEWP! HEWP!  PWEASE HEWP, HAF BABBEHS!!!" Quiet. "WAN' UP!  MUNSTA HAF FWUFFY!  HEWP FWUFFY!  HEWD GIF OWWIES TO MUNSTA! HEWP!!!" Be quiet. "WHY NU HEWP?!? Haf babbehs soon, mummeh huwties bad fo' babbehs!!!" I said BE QUIET. "Pwease, fw- fwuffy wuv nice ho-hooman..." Look at me.  No?  I can fix that "NU PWE-urk!" SSSSHHHHHUUUUUUTTTTTTT UUUUUUPPPPPPPPPP! "Pw-" NO!  SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!  You're really pissing me off, you know that?  Here's what's gonna happen.  I'm gonna turn this on, get changed and come right back.  YOU are going to hold still and be very, very quiet.  That's what a good fluffy would do.  Because BAD things happen to BAD fluffies, get it? "Amgudfwuffypwe-" NO.  No you are not a good fluffy.  Good fluffies do as they're told.  Want to be a good fluffy?  Be quiet.  And by God you're gonna be quiet one way or another; I haven't hurt any of you on purpose yet but that's fucking well about to change in a God damn hurry if you don't shut up and keep still!  Pay close attention, real close attention, what I'm about to say is very important.  You WILL do as I tell you or you'll NEVER HAVE BABIES EVER! "P.....mu.....f......*sniff*......" "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!?" "E.......f.......*hic*..." I'm glad we've come to an understanding.  So now that you know what'll happen if you're bad, ready to become a pretty, nice smelling fluffy? *sniffle* Good.  We can FINALLY start now, light wash, it's 7:56 pm, just spent ten minutes arguing with a fucking fluffy, and.... power on! "NUUUU! HEWP!  NU WAN'!  SCAWED!!!! FWUFFY SCAWED!!! WAWA BAD!!! NUUUU!!!! WAWA BAD!!! HEWP!!!" You enjoy your wash while I get changed and burn these fucking pants. "NUUUUUU! NU WAN'!  HEWP!  FWUFFY MAKE POOPIES!  FWUFFY WAN' UP!  HEWP FWUFFY!!! Stupid goddam thing.  well at least the rear jets will break up and destroy any shit she dumps no matter how much she's got.  How could they hold so much shit?  Why do they hold so much shit?  Some fucked up joke by the developers? *door closes, fluffy screaming can still be heard.* Good fucking God, what a nightmare.  And there's people who wash them for a living!  I'd rather work in the sewers cleaning out fluffy corpses.  I liked these pants too. * Five minutes pass * If this doesn't work I'm heading straight for the bar... well I can hear her still screaming for help, that's a good sign. * Door opens * "Hewp, pwease hewp fwuffy, nu wike nu wike!  Nu wan' wawa, pwease hewp..." Having a good time in there Giggle? "Pwease, nu moar wawa, fwuffy scawed!  Made poopies, pwease nu sowwy bawx.  Pwease wet up!" The Fluff Wash'll rip up any turds you drop in there, it doesn't... what is that?  Silly string?  What the hell have you been eat-  JESUS! * Slams emergency stop * Holy shit it's all over the place!  Stupid bitch!  You didn't poop, you gave birth! "Nu wan'-  babbehs?  Fwuffy haf babbehs?  Whea babbehs, wan' see babbehs! This is fucking sick.  And I gotta clean all this shit out!  I can't believe you were stupid enough to give birth IN the fucking Fluff Wash! "Whea babbehs?  Babbehs need mummeh, need wuv an' huggies an' miwk, pwease wet fwuffy see babbehs!" You wanna see them do you?  Fine, you'll see lot of 'em. *click click* You can stay in the sink while I scoop all this garbage out. "Wan' babbehs!  Pwease, gif babbehs to fwuffy!  Babbehs need mummeh! Look down stupid, they're in your fluff. "Babbehs!  Mummeh wuv babbehs!  Come get huggies an' wuv an'... babbehs?  Wha... bab... ba..." Finally noticed you're covered in foal bits huh?  Well here's a bunch more for you to love and hug. * Scoops out a handfull of shredded baby and plops it in front of her face * There you go, knock yourself out. "Babbeh?  Pwease gif huggies bak... why babbeh nu move?  Whea babbeh weggies?  Why... head... whea.. bab.. wingie... taiw... po... poopie pwace... babbehs huwties?  Pwease ba... babbehs wuv mummeh?  Why boo boo juce?  Whea ba... babbehs?  Why ba... babbehs aw... ovah?" * Slaps another handful of foal bits down in front of her * The high powered jets meant to shred up poop did the same thing with the subjects babies.  If I'm counting right there are seven heads, quite a large litter.  The fluff wash walls are coated with gore and pieces and blood.  There's amniotic fluid and afterbirth stuck to everything, even the fluffy is covered in bits of her own offspring.  I never, ever believed any of them would be stupid enough to give birth inside the fluff wash.  How am I supposed to keep this from happening again? "Babbeh... pwease huggie... ba... weggie, haf weggie... weggie fo' ba... babbeh, weggie and... wingies an' taiw, ba... babbeh aw dare.  Nao mummeh gif miwk, haf make moar ba...babbehs.  Fwuffy see... wingies, fwuffy haf pwetty fwuff fo' ba... babbeh..." Man... Subject is taking the pieces of her dead babies and trying to put the puzzle back together.  She's even got a pile of baby bits sitting on her belly, must be trying to feed it.  She's lost her little fluffy mind. "Heah ba...babbeh, wast weggie, nao haf aw weggies ba...babbeh need.  Ba...babbeh wan' hown?  Pwetty woonicown ba...babbeh... Yay!  Fwuffy haf' pwetty woonicown ba...babbeh! Coulda gone my whole life without seeing this.  I'll keep the cameras on her for a while, see what happens.  She doesn't seem to mind being soaking wet and laying in the sink anymore. "Wookies!  Fwuffy haf ba...babbehs!  See hooman?  Pwettiest ba...babbehs evah!  Oh!  Fwuffy fin' hed!  Make notha ba...babbeh!" Yeah.  Yeah Giggle, good job, you've had your babies.  Fuck me. End part 8

[toranistheauthor]

Contagion side project 1 - Baldies part 2

Contagion side project 1 part 2 - Baldies http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ Warning:  This story contains very depressed fluffies and fluff on fluff violence.  Viewer discretion is advised. You, the Colonel in charge of the military's Feral Fluffy Extermination experimental facility continues to be briefed on the "baldy" project a few of your staff with too much time on their hands have undertaken.  They're surprisingly different in action from typical fluffies, a haze of sadness and depression following wherever they go. "Liz, this may not be lethal but I think you've come the closest to depressing a fluffy to death." "We had no idea they've react so strongly to this, sir.  Being fluffy is a crucial part of their identity.  You see how sad and antisocial they are like this, our baldies never even hug." "Fluffies that don't hug.  That's like dogs that won't wag their tail.  Well, fluffies do that too don't they?" "A Pomeranian is one of the primary animals they are based off of, fluffies have many dog like traits, wagging their tails included.  That's something else baldies never do, wag.  They keep their tail firmly pushed down to hide their genitals." She focuses one camera on a baldy facing away, it's tail pressing down hard against his rear.  You scroll it up a bit, marveling at just how tiny and scrawny an adult fluffies wings are.  They look like tiny chicken wings missing the batter.  The fluffy who owns them keeps them pressed tightly against his body, they must find even those embarrassing. "I never would have guessed fluffies would be as modest as you've shown.  And the mothers?  How do they handle this?" "That's a very interesting question sir!"  She suddenly lit up and seems most enamored of this subject. You make a mental note to get her some vacation time.  "Special hugs only happen when mares go into heat, nothing like the 24/7 breeding you see out of most fluffy herds.  Stallions try to finish as fast as they can, despite the "good feel" they don't like the physical contact any more than mares, nor do they like having their equipment out for the world to see.  It's over in as little as thirty seconds and they separate faster than my boyfriend rolls over and passes out." That's worth commenting on but you let her keep going anyway. "Once they start drinking water like there's no tomorrow we know they're pregnant, all that amniotic fluid has to have a base, right?  Pregnancy goes on just like a normal fluffies would, although she won't be moved nearly as often by her attendants as is normal, just enough to get food and water.  And after the usual two to three weeks she births a litter of foals, the only moment her entire herd will come together to witness." "They all care?  That's a bit different.  Why do you think?" Liz smiles broadly and zooms a camera on a very pregnant dam.  "Mothers are overjoyed when they see they're babies, in fact, every single member of the herd gathers and observes it for the first day.  Why you ask?  Because every baby is born covered in fluff!" She practically jumps to accentuate her point, this woman is a bit more excitable than what you're used to. "We always have an attendant there to "help them" give birth (which they're always grateful for) and that's when the epilation agent is administered, their fluff falls out within fourteen hours and never comes back.  Then the reverence ends and it's just another baby.  But until it happens, the fluffy baby is treated like gold, they all want to touch it." She then focuses the camera towards the edge of the enclosure, where grass meets metal. "So the baby balds and right away, things change.  Mothers ALWAYS save every scrap of fluff shed from their babies and keep it in a safe little pile, almost like a revered icon or shrine to what they once were.  Do you see sir?  We've uncovered real evidence of fluffies developing some type of ritualistic behavior!"  And true to form, the camera shows many small piles of fluff stacked somewhat neatly and lined up against the wall, about half a foot apart.  Little collections of yellow, green, blue... every color fluffies come in.  Even tiny spots of different colors which must have been their mane and tail fluff.  Liz beams at you like she won the damn lottery.  It's a little off putting to see how excited this is making her, time to get things back on track. "Right, that is interesting, but back to the mothers then.  Since they can't stand physical contact how do they care for their young?" Her enthusiasm drops a few notches when she realizes you don't share it, but is still clearly a little worked up. "Carrying babies is done entirely by the mouth sir, they never manage to stay on their mothers back long despite the babies always wanting to be there instinctively.  If she wants them moved she'll just take it by the neck rolls, drop it off in the new location and go back for the rest if they can't follow themselves.  When feeding, mothers will usually sit on their rears and let two babies suckle.  Some won't even allow that and lay on their sides instead, feeding just one at a time.  Really young babies, two or three days old simply have to lay on mother, no way around it.  They're too small and weak to reach up, support their own weight and suckle.  Despite that, we've seen mothers who would only lay on their sides and feed one baby at a time instead of letting them lay on her body, a few starved that way.  It's really quite something to watch how far they'll go to avoid physical interaction.  Their revulsion at the sensation of baldy flesh touching theirs overrides even motherly instincts!  I've interviewed several, all mention a gross, squirming smoothness they couldn't stand." "I can see that, but they still feed and care for them right?" "Yes sir, in a way.  They'll feed them, move them, keep them away from danger and things like that, but compared to a normal fluffy it's like night and day.  Baldy mothers barely play with their babies and certainly never hug them.  That would require physical interaction, they aren't willing to go quite that far." "Do the mothers not have the same kind of emotional attachment fluffies are known for?" "It still exists sir, but certainly not to the degree of a normal fluffy.  Please remember, the mothers are already depressed before they give birth.  Then they have fluffy babies for a day giving them hope, then the fluff falls off and all they're left with is another reminder of what they are.  Babies spend most of their time crying for affection that never comes in they form they want, hugs.  If they have siblings they'll hug them for a while but that feeling of revulsion exists even at their age, babies never hug for more than a couple seconds before pushing each other away.  So they grow up with a mother who says she loves them but never plays or gives them hugs, and as you know hugs are a core foundation of fluffy behavior.  So there's another reason for the depression." A mother you spotted earlier stands and munches on a lone bush while her babies sit close by and tap her leg.  The microphone picks up their crying to get on her back but she just shifts position, circling around so they can't reach and continues eating.  It's bizarre, she seems outright apathetic towards her own babies when normal fluffies love them more than life itself. "It's a real sideshow in there."  It's easy to lose time watching the circus act unfold but something suddenly occurs to you.  "Liz, what's the ambient temperature in that room?" "I know what you're getting at sir.  While the baldies aren't freezing to death at room temperature, they do complain a LOT about being cold.  Our experiments showed that they won't actually die from cold until it drops to less than 47 Fahrenheit for over six hours.  We managed to get a small group to sleep in a fluff pile by keeping them in a room that was 53 degrees.  They chose survival over comfort but complained near constantly about not feeling nice.  Family members and special friends are mostly likely to sleep close enough together to share body heat, but still do their best to avoid actually touching.  Parents often sleep with their foals between them;  it isn't much better but they simply aren't willing to touch, it's a universal baldy truth." "How do the newborns survive then?  With their fluff gone in half a day and no heat from mother I can't see one of the tiny things lasting long." "That was certainly a problem in the beginning sir.  Our first time mothers couldn't stand the feeling of smooth, naked babies on their bellies and often shook their kids off soon after they started to feed.  They'd try feeding one at a time by laying on their sides, but the babies needed body heat more than anything else.  The partition is as hot as we can get it without some funding..." You aren't taking that bait.  "And?" "And because of the temperature and no body heat from mother we lost quite a few, baldy moms kept pushing them away when the babies tried to crawl on." "That's quite harsh." "And very telling of how important their fluff is, Colonel.  Motherly instincts are some of the strongest fluffies have because of the enhanced breeders PETA released.  Our answer has been a series of rubber coated heating blankets set inside specialized enclosures, they radiate enough heat for babies to survive and mothers can still lay on their side in front of it to feed them.  We actually started out with just heating blankets but those proved a little too popular.  Adult baldies, even mothers would remove the babies so they could lay on it themselves.  Since so many kept trying to steal them, we had to build boxes only babies or foals could fit into and wired the heating blankets into them.  Every once in a while a baldy will try to pull one out but they always fail." She shows you the line of low containers made somewhat crudely of wood.  Every one has babies inside and mothers either laying in front of the entrance to feed them or somewhere close by.  They all look a bit chewed and kicked, pooped/peed on as well.  Those boxes have probably been a source of great frustration to cold baldies over the past few months.  You're glad the team cleans them out and not you. "How about sensitivity?  Without fluff how do they handle day to day rigors?" You watch baldies nibble away at grass and plants.  Others sit and wait for the food bowls to be filled instead, content to stand or lay down in the bare earth.  All avoid conversation for the most part and give each other a wide berth, but they're just close enough together to be considered a group and not completely separate.  You suppose this is as close as they get to being a real herd. "Perhaps you've noticed by now sir, the areas where grass has been eaten away or flattened?" And that you do.  There are lots of little pathways leading to all parts of the enclosure where the grass is either gone or nibbled so short it may as well not be there. "A baldie's skin is softer than a regular, say... dog's of the same size.  They scratch easily and bruise amazingly fast.  We don't think they like anything touching them at all, each other especially.  Early on they whined constantly about the tall grass dragging across their bellies and legs, I'm afraid it was one of my people who suggested making paths.  I didn't think they'd manage it, but several paths have been made, you can see how they meander all over the enclosure.  Fluffies weren't meant to create, that's obvious.  And you'll never see them walk through the taller scrub brush on the left, some of the plants have thorns or nettles, the few who have gone in came back out covered in tiny scratches and coated in blood." "I bet that raised some eyebrows." "If you mean six hours of chaos, panic and screaming for help then yes sir, it did." "Have you tried introducing artificial fluff, or even fuzzy objects to their enclosure? "Certainly sir.  The smarty friend, his enforcers and their special friends always try to wear whatever fluffy objects we've added during the night, from full sized sweaters to piles of fluff shorn from dead fuffies.  It's where they show their greatest ingenuity, finding ways to keep it on themselves.  Of course they're only fluffies in the end, it never stays long and when they realize it won't stick and they can't be fluffy the depression gets even worse.  Usually that's when we have the most suicides." "So close, yet so far?" "Exactly sir.  It's about the only time they fight too, over fluffy objects like teddy bears, fuzzy dice or the aforementioned dead fluffy shavings.  Hours after introducing something we always see many walking around with deep purple bruises and cuts.  Unicorn horns are particularly effective against a baldy." Baldy warfare.  Might be worth it if you bring popcorn. "How many do you have now? "57 as of yesterday sir.  We don't have many fatalities due to the usual fluffy stupidity as it often comes in tandem with looking for food, running away from things or playing.  Our baldies do everything slowly to avoid contact so there's little risk, and what they do get into could barely qualify as play.  However, we've had more than a couple of suicides due to drowning and refusal to eat.  Also a fair number of mares who went crazy and killed their foals because, and I quote "I'd rather see them dead than never happy like me".  I'm paraphrasing of course. "I realize that, although it would have been something to hear your fluffy impression." She turns a little bit red and looks away, back out onto the enclosure. "Well, I've seen about all I need to see, so what say we move a normal fluffy herd in and see how things go?" "Really sir? A whole herd?  It's been quite a while since we tried bringing them together on a large scale." "No time like the present, I do need to see it myself after all." "We have video if you'd like sir." "The real thing Liz, I'm always to observe important moments like this with my own eyes.  We have about eighty five in holding, waiting to have some poison or another introduced somehow.  May as well make use of them first.  We'll release the fluffies without any forewarning and observe." "Yes sir.  I'll make the preparations." It takes about twenty minutes of checking equipment and prep work before an unruly mob of fluffies is herded to the wash bay, the largest door that opens onto the compound. "Every camera and mic recording?  We can't miss any of this.  Biggs you're on directional microphone duty, try to keep it on the smarties and go wide field if there's too much activity at once, we can sort out individual conversations later."  Several of her team mates give thumbs up and operate manual cameras from behind the glass. "Then if we're ready, release the hounds." Liz grabs her walkie talkie.  "Wedge, open the door and herd them out if they don't leave on their own." *wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*  A door looking much like any average garage door slowly raises.  It's over half way up before fluffies are willing to chance stumbling out from underneath the giant, slow moving monster.  What lay before them though is a paradise compared to the concrete holding pen they'd spend the last three days in.  Within seconds the entire herd had spilled out and began exploring with renewed happiness.  Some danced and sang about seeing grass again, mothers reassured their babies they'd have milk soon and ate everything they could while attendants rolled pregnant dams right past them, looking for an open area and grass for their tummies. At first, they didn't even notice the baldies all around, their hunger driving them out to strip every bush and blade of grass.  But this feeding frenzy doesn't last long as they find themselves being hugged by strange, new fluffies.  Really, really strange fluffies.  The baldy herd came waddling the second they noticed the nwecomers, some even crying tears of joy as they hug and rub themselves against every fluffy too busy eating to care. Mommies bring their babies and foals over to meet the fluffy herd.  They pick up and place their babies onto pregnant dams so the young can experience the feeling of being engulfed in fluff.  It's a memory most real fluffies seem to retain genetically, the warmth and safety of laying on mommy, surrounded by fluffy scent and the all important fluff.  The baldies celebrate their new friends and relish the feel of fluff against their smooth hides. At first, the fluffies don't know what to make of it, but some microphones do pick up a little giggling here and there.  It doesn't take long before the fluffy smarty friend makes himself known, a grey and blue unicorn.  He stands up front and barks a few orders, his herd quickly (for fluffies) assembling behind his position and pushing away the peculiar "fluffies".  For their part, the baldies take this okay but assemble very close by, ready and willing for lots more hugs and love. "Wha' dis?  Dunno wha' yu is." "Am fwuffy pony, fwuffy jus' wike new fwiends!  Am fwuffy!" The smarty friend named Martin by the shelter he was purchased from seems perplexed.  He gives the smiling baldy a few good sniffs and even a couple hugs to feel things out. "Yu nu haf fwuff... smewl funneh." "I think he's about to come to a conclusion sir." "Yu is nu fwuffy pony." "And there we have it, didn't take him long either." "Am fwuffy!  Aw hewd fwuffy ponies.  See babbeh?  Is fwuffy babbeh jus' wike yu babbehs." Now the smarty friend seemed more amused than confused. "Siwwy nu fwuffies funneh!  If haf nu fwuff, den nu fwuffy pony!  Smawtie fwiend caw yu... nu-fwuffs.  Yu nu-fwuff hewd... hee hee hee." "Nuuuuu, pwease nu meanie wurds, am fwuffy ponies, aw hewd gud fwuffies!"  The baldy smarty pleads his case while holding a baldy baby up in his front hooves.  Already things are headed south as Martin's whole herd begins laughing outright at the silly looking, no fluff fluffies. "Hee hee, wook at dem!  Nu-fwuff fwuffies!  Hee hee hee" "Nuuuuuu!  Am fwuffy pony, nu nu-fuwff!" The baldies begin yelling out and crying for acceptance, insisting they're every bit the fluffy these actually fluffy fluffies are. "Hee hee hee, hewd of nu-fwuff fwuffies!  Nu-fwuffs wook funneh, hee hee hee..." The Baldy smarty is getting desperate, you watch tears rolling down his cheeks freely while the baby lays forgotten at his belly, trying to find a mother who's too busy crying to care about it.  "Nu nu-fwuff, aw fwuffies!  Gif huggies pwease, new fwiends pwease gif huggies an' wuv!" Martin the unicorn takes a few moments to quiet down and explain.  "Nu haf fwuff, nu is fwuffy pony.  AWWWWW fwuffy haf fwuff, efwy fwuffy kno' dat.  Yu nu fwuffies, siwwy nu-fwuffs." The baldy leader seems stricken by what he hears, covering his eyes and sobbing while trying to somehow convince the newcomers they're one in the same.  " *sob* Am fwuffy, pwease nu moar huwtie wurds, hewd aw gud fwuffies, pwease be fwiends, pwease gif huggies." "Hee hee hee, nu-fwuffs too siwwy, nu can stop waffing!  Hee hee hee!  Nu-fwuffs tink dey fwuffy ponies, buh haf nu fwuff!  Hee hee hee!" "Waaaaaaa!  Am fwuffy!  Pwease say am fwuffy pony!  Waaahhhhhh!" All structure breaks down as the baldies wail and cry about being good fluffies while the actual fluffies point and laugh and giggle and wave their fannies at the no-fluffs. "Funneh nu-fwuff hewd wan be fwuffies, buh nu can wif no fwuff!  Dat why yu nu-fwuffs, hee hee hee!" "Waaa haaa haaaa!  Nuuuuuuu!  Wan be fwuffy!  Whea fwuff?  Fwuffy wan FWUFF!!! Nu meanie wurds! *sob* " "What do you think will happen if this keeps up, Liz?" "Complete breakdown of the baldy social order and retreat.  The first time we tried it some of my group were afraid the baldies would attack and try to rip the fluff off the normals, but their self esteem is so low I can't imagine that ever actually happening.  They're facing real fluffies for the first time and have been rejected outright, their little hearts are breaking sir.  Every single baldy old enough to understand whats going on is crying, some are already running away."  A couple near the front had broken off and waddled away quick as they could, eventually hiding behind some bushes and covering their ears. "I dunno, maybe all the taunting will push one hard enough to fight back." While you and Liz spoke, the real fluffy herd's smarty had made up a little song, soon all his members were singing along when they weren't laughing. "Nu-fwuff! Nu-fwuff! Siwwy siwwy nu-fwuff!" This was the breaking point for many baldies, they either waddled away or flopped down on the grass and wailed like babies. "Am fwuffy, fwuffy is fwuffy!  Fwuffy *sob* is fwuffy!  Hu hu hu... fwuffy is... fwuffy is...  WAAAHHHHH!  Wan' be fwuffy!!!" "Wookies! even nu-fwuff babbeh haf nu fwuff! Hee hee hee!"  Baldy mothers either grabbed a baby and shuffled off or put themselves between their babies and the fluffies in some vain attempt to shield their feelings.  Naturally it didn't work, there wasn't a dry eye amongst the baldies. "Nuuuu, nu waf at babbeh, is gud fwuffy babbeh, nu nu-fwuff!  Babbeh need wuv, nu waf at babbeh!" "Wook at widdle nu-fwuff babbeh! Hee hee hee, wook wike pinkie poopie!  Hee hee hee hee!" "Pinkie poopie nu-fwuff!  Hee hee hee!!!" "Huuu hu hu, babbeh nu poopies, pwease gif babbeh huggies, pwease wet babbeh fewl fwuff!" "It's hard to admit it, but even I'm starting to feel bad for these pathetic things." "Their idols are mocking them, I can't see this getting much worse." So it did. Martin had clambered up a pile of rocks two fluffies high, standing tall and proud. "Hewd wisten to smawty!  Dey is nu fwuffies, haf nu fwuff, nu can be fwuffies.  We caw dem nu-fwuffs, dat wha' dey is.  Nu hugs, nu pway with nu-fwuffs, smawtie say so!" His herd barely stopped laughing and singing long enough to listen. "Hewwo, nu-fwuffs. Hee hee." "Nuuuuuuuu, hu hu hu hu... nu wan' be nu-fwuff, hu hu hu..." "Nu-fwuff is nu-fwuff, fwuffy is fwuffy, yu is diffwent ting den fwuffy pony." Broken, sobbing and humiliated, the baldies smarty friend made one last appeal for friendship.  "Pwease, pwease gif hugs to gud hewd.  Fwuffies wuv fwuff, wuf how fwuff fewl, is bestest fewl evah.  Pwease gif hewd huggies, jus' wan' fewl fwuff wike yu.  Pwease, pwease huggies?" A few baldies try feebly to hug the real fluffies again, anguish clear in their voices as they're pushed away or bopped on the nose. "Pwease huggies?  Jus' wan' fewl fwuff, gif nummies, gif anythin'!  Pwease huggies!" "Nu!  Nu wan' ugwy nu-fwuff huggies.  Onwy fwuffies haf bestest huggies fwom bestest fwuffies." "Huuuu hu hu hu hu hu... wan' fwuff... whea fwuffy's fwuff... hu hu hu..." "Hee hee, wook fwuffy can see nu-fwuff's pee pee pwace, hee hee hee." Martin hadn't moved from his spot, he seemed to like being above the rest. "Hewd haf wots nummies hea', ugwy, siwwy nu-fwuffs stay 'way so hewd haf nummies." Obeying their smarty friend, the fluffies eventually pull themselves together and stop laughing long enough to start eating again, even the low grade fluffy chow in the baldies bowls.  Any and all pleading from the baldies is ignored unless they try to get hugs, then they're pushed back or kicked away.  Martin's herd found hurting them easier than a real fluffy, several baldies were forced away while bleeding from soft hoof scrapes and horn pokes.  The most hysterical of them latched onto a fluffy and refused to let go, screaming about being fluffy too and frantic to feel a real fluffy hug just one more time. "Nuuuuuu fwuffy is fwuffy!  Fwuffy is fwuffy!  Pwease wuv, am gud fwuffy!" "Yu nu gif speciawl fwiend huggies!" "OWWWIEEESSSSS!" You watch dispassionately as some of the more stricken baldies are beaten within an inch of their lives for refusing to let go.  A mother who tried to stick her babies into a mare's fluff got them killed in the resulting melee.  The mare shook the little babies free and stepped on one while her herd mates crushed the other rushing over to knock the mother away.  The baldy mare lay on her belly next to their bodies and cried her eyes out, still not making any more contact than nosing them once or twice, futilely encouraging them to move. Other mothers had abandoned their babies to escape the constant mocking (a genuine weapon against normal fluffies and devastating against baldies).  The babies were laughed at, poked, and even pooped on by spiteful fluffies who didn't understand they were hurting their own brethren. The worst case was a foal who managed to climb on top of an immobile dam and refused to come down.  An attendant on each side grabbed him with their mouths and pulled, both thinking the little one was somehow holding on.  They yanked and wrenched until succeeding, the ugly, silly little no-fluff no longer menacing the dam they'd been caring for. Each mare spat out the half they got and tried to calm their hysterical charge down while cleaning the blood and guts from her fluff. By then every baldy had all retreated to the uncomfortable scrub area, sobbing about being good fluffies, still begging for hugs from the real fluffies and asking no one in particular where their fluff was. "That's that then.  I half expected a baldy or two to try and rip out some fluff, but they all seem too beaten down by life to attempt it.  Still, I'm glad I got to see this before making a final report." Liz wasn't even listening, frantically ordering her few people to remove the fluffies immediately and put them back into the holding pen.  Once they begin, she turns to you.  "About that sir... Do you intend to shut us down?  Everyone here is working free overtime and the other partitions don't even miss the space at all, we buy the cheapest fluffy chow-"  You raise a hand. "I realize this is your pet project and is certainly more palatable then killing off herds with biological agents, but what does your testing contribute towards eradicating feral fluffies?" "Sir we've determined the freezing point of a bald fluffy for one, and making mothers so apathetic towards their foals would go a gr-" "It's nothing like what goes on during your day job.  There we kill them by the hundreds with poisons and viruses, don't we?" "I've always put my primary research ahead of this side project sir." "You like them, don't you?  The baldies I mean, you like your little creations." She looked more and more nervous as you dug deeper, that normally cheerful facade of hers crumbing under your level gaze. "They're just... interesting sir.  These ones created their own society of sorts and it's been amazing watching them alter their normal behaviors SO much all because of being bald.  And we've discovered a side of fluffies most people didn't even know existed, the pride in their fluff and being a fluffy.  I'd like permission to keep it going, keep studying the baldies until our testing cycle is complete." "Now look, I can see the appeal of what you're doing here, honestly I find them a bit interesting myself.  And yours show a lot of personality, despite being ridiculous to look at.  So... let me ask you this:  Are you willing to continue research ENTIRELY on your own time, finding their food, cleanup, all of it?"  You have a quick flashback about telling your daughter something very similar when she got a puppy for her birthday. "Yes sir!  We can feed them with the scraps other fluffies leave behind, or grass clippings from mowed lawns, anything my team can scrounge up." She's practically vibrating with excitment again.  This woman needs to get out more. "Fine then, until we shut down you can keep them around BUT, I expect the experiment to end when we submit our findings to the top brass." "Yes sir.  Understood perfectly sir." "Then if you'll excuse me, I have to go see how things are progressing with the blinded group." "Thank you sir, on behalf of my whole team." You just wave it off as the door closes behind you.  Just as you'd feared, some of your people are becoming emotionally attached to their test subjects, leaving you in the unenviable position of deciding their fate.  Theirs, and the fates of the morose, depressed creatures they've created.  You get the feeling they're about to see a sharp increase in suicides after today anyway. End side project 1. Why did I write this?  I asked myself, what would permanently take the joy out of a fluffy.  Telling it no spaghetti forever?  It would forget you said that eventually.  No weggies?  Been done, by me included.  But I've never heard of baldies before and it sounded like fun.  Imagine what they'd look like totally bald. The bald cats are creepy. Bald fluffies?  Hilarious!

[toranistheauthor]

Babbeh part 3

Babbeh part 3 http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/toran_is_the_author http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ Warning:  This story is mostly hugbox, at least for now.  Viewer discretion isn't necessary. So many things have happened, and you only woke up a little while ago. A very exciting second day of life. Your tummy feels kinda funny, like it's full, but lower down. Maybe you need to drink more milk, it's always on your mind in some form. But not just yet, you don't want to look away from mommy right now. There are so many other fluffy voices, your hearing continues to improve as the day passes. Those right next to mommy talk to her while surrounded by their own long, hard, cold things you can understand, at least some of it. Mommy talks back to them using lots of new words but you don't like it somehow. The other voices are louder and sometimes even scary! They say baby a lot, so are they talking about you? Or your brother and sister? They're loud, sometimes the voices sound kind of meanie and you hide in mommy's fluff. Why would fluffies say meanie things? That makes no sense, fluffies love and hug and stay together, that's what a fluffy is! Like many things, you just don't understand yet. Mommy has shifted too, now she lays with her head against a different side, and for a real good reason. One of the other mommy fluffies was a meanie and tried to pull your sister through the long, hard, cold things with her hoof! She likes to walk around close to mommy, making her wingies flap and even sticking her hooves through the long, hard, cold things. But this time she squeaked and cried, mommy had to pull her back with both hooves and the light colored fluffy who did it was yelling a lot of words, you heard her say "babbeh", "wuv", "miwk", and "nu", amongst lots of others. Then the really big fluffy who's outside the fluffy homes took that one away for awhile. You were really afraid when big fluffy brought her back, but she was crying super hard and just laid down. Then giant fluffy did something amazing, it somehow stopped her from reaching through the gaps. After a little while mommy tried it too, she couldn't get her hoof in even though it should have worked. If you remember, you want to try pushing against the hard clear that giant fluffy put there sometime later. Maybe after hugs. And milk. You've got a little tummy owwie, hopefully it'll be your turn soon. You played with that big fluffy just before the meanie grabbed your sister, it took you out of mommy's fluff for the very first time in those weird, fluffless hooves. But it put you back when your bum started getting cold. Now you're with mommy, simply enjoying the feelings that come naturally while your siblings suckle. Like the warmth she radiates, making your belly and legs nice and warm. Wanting to feel the same all over, you twist and wiggle, writhe and shuffle, trying to get that warmth everywhere. huh. Now your back feels warm like your belly did a moment ago. Whoa. Everything is all wrong way up! Your legs are free to move around and you can see right up through the top of your home. This is something amazing you've discovered. You want to name it, but the few words you know fail you. Nestled in mommy's fluff, you move each leg every way it can, exploring your own physical boundaries. While your legs are free to sway and run and click your tiny hooves together, your head is a different story. It's hard to look around like this, you've so much fluff that lifting it off mommy is hard to do, all you can see is red fluff, your front legs and the pure white sky beyond the long hard things of your home. This was fun and all, but it's time to roll back over, your legs are getting a little cold. ... It isn't working... Why isn't it working? Distress takes hold as your predicament finally dawns on you. You're stuck! Flailing your legs and wriggling isn't helping, mommy's fluff is thick and you're sunk deep into it. Normally this is a great thing but it's keeping you from getting up. It was so much easier getting the wrong way around, why can't you put your legs where they're supposed to be? It's so unfair! Afraid of being this way forever, you start crying as fear overtakes all the good feelings from before. "Babbeh!  Wuv hewp mummeh miwk! hewp pwease wuv babbeh huwt! Your panicky pleading for help from mommy used every word you know, your legs are really cold now and it's scary! Face soaked with tears you wiggle and push off mommy, even biting her fluff trying to get back on your hooves. Your tummy feels strange;  not like owwies but something else. Then a feeling of release, and ... wetness? The warm, wet feel is really uncomfortable and feels strange, you desperately want mommy to help! "Siwwy babbeh, mummeh gif huggies." Your world flips over again, and once again your legs are deep within mommy's red fluff, her hooves wrapped around your back. The tears trickle to a stop and you sniffle a few times, that was scary, you don't like being stuck. But mommy helped, she made everything better somehow while you were panicking. She always makes everything better, mommies do that for babies. But that warm, wet feel is still there, why would that happen? The world is the right way up again, why are these strange feelings still there? Right away you don't like it, your whole bottom feels strange and bad. Even that flappy bit above your rear... the part with darker fluff than your body... your tail! Even your tail is covered in the bad feeling, it doesn't feel like it's supposed to. It feels... not pretty. Yes, that sounds right. A good way to think about a bad feel. "Babbeh make poopies!  Nu poopie in mummeh's fwuff, babbeh." You feel bad, but aren't sure why. The way mommy talked made your chest feel cold, did you do something wrong? Something bad? Bad to mommy? Oh no! You did something bad to mommy! This is the worst possible thing! Noooooooooooo... "Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu... babbeh... mummeh wuv... babbeh..." It's so frustrating, you want to get the right words out but they just aren't there! And she set you down beside her, out of the fluff you love so much. You must be the worst baby ever. Mommy rubs at the little spot you've made with your naughty rear, then rubs that leg on the floppy soft thing that smells like her. She does it a few times until she's satisfied, then turns her attention to you. "Babbehs nu make pee pee an' poopies on mummeh, nu smewl pwetty.  An' babbeh haf wif taiw, den nu poopies in taiw an' stay pwetty." Sitting on your rear beside her, you look up at mommy, tears brimming. How did this happen? You never wanted to make mommy unhappy. Reaching up with both forelegs you want to be comforted soooooo badly, despite being such a bad baby. "Wuv babbeh?" She smiles down at you and the coldness inside floats away, she isn't angry. Mommy leans over and picks you up into her hooves, giving the biggest hugs. "Babbeh wuv mummeh" Mommy licks the fluff around your head a few times, working out the mess your tears made. "Mummeh wuv babbeh, need make babbeh cwean an' smewl pwetty 'gain." Mommy helped you, like mommies do. You were bad but she'll make everything ok. You're the luckiest baby in the world to have such a wonderful mommy. While your hooves are firmly hugging into mommy's fluff, she licks her own leg and starts rubbing at your bottom. Several time she does this, each time then dragging the dirty leg against the floppy soft thing, leaving a streak of bad smells and yucky. It feels a little funny but mommy always knows what to do, you hold still for her until she's finished. "Nao babbeh cwean and pwetty 'gain!" Pretty, you like that word. And you think you know what it means now. It's when fluff goes from not nice to nice, that's pretty. You like this word. "Babbeh pwetty!" Mummeh smiles and strokes the fluff on your back while you lay on her chest, facing her. "Babbeh vewy pwetty, Stewwa haf pwetties babbehs evah." She's pretty too, mommy's fluff is perfect and warm and smells so nice. You wouldn't want to be anywhere else. But it lasts for only a while. Your moment of joy is interrupted by a new sound.   *Clack* *Clack* *Clack* *Clack* It's getting louder. "Whea babbeh?  Nu faiw, Stewwa haf babbeh den aw mummeh get haf babbeh!" "Dummy hooman gif bak babbehs, yu haf wowstest owwies if nu gif babbehs!" "Gif babbehs!  Wan' mah babbehs NAO!  Meanie hooman wisten or get wowstest huwties in poopy pwace!!!" Then... quiet. Well not exactly quiet, but much quieter than before. Every fluffy that was yelling and making their homes rattle suddenly started talking softer. "Scawy hooman... scawy hooman bak! "Nu wike, pwease gif babbehs, nu wet meanie hooman huwt babbehs 'gain..." "Hu hu hu hu...jus' wan' babbeh... pwease, am gud fwuffy, pwease gif babbeh to Toowip." Suddenly mommy leans forward so much you almost fall backwards, she scoops up your siblings who are feeding and plucks them both away from the teats. She hugs them together with you, her legs covering so much you can barely see anything but red and muffling their sudden, unhappy cries. "Hiya girls!  Miss me?  Feels good to be back." It's a giant fluffy! And there's more than one! "Cut it out and help Steve with Coral's cage first" "You're no fun." "And don't get used to it, you're still banned after this." "Whatever." Some of the giants moved off towards other fluffy homes, but some stayed close too. "Right.  Now, how long has this been going on for?" "Ever since they figured out some mothers are keeping their babies, the rest are practically rioting because theirs are still taken away.  There's been some whining about it, but things really kicked in about an hour ago after I weighed Stella's new litter.  One must've finally put two and two together and it spread like wildfire." "Jesus they're whiny today.  Has it caused any problems?" "It was worse before everyone came downstairs, I'm sure you can guess why.  It's actually quieter now than it was five minutes ago." "She has that effect on them, doesn't she.  Just bitching then?" "One tried to pull Stella's pink pegasus filly through the bars into her own cage, she managed to save it before things got ugly." "Who the fuck did that?!" "Her neighbor Tulip but don't worry, she's already had one hell of a time with the sorry stick." "I'd have shoved it up her ass for pulling shit like that.  The bars aren't wide enough even for a baby's body to fit through and an all pink fluffy isn't cheap.  She would've crushed it... TULIP!" The giant fluffies are really loud, you wish you could see them again but mommy is hugging you tight so it's not so bad. "Huuuu hu hu hu hu.... Toowip sowwy, Toowip sowwy, jus' wan' babbeh, Toowip wuv babbehs so much... miss babbehs so much... hu hu hu." "Don't you give me that sobbing bullshit.  If he hadn't put the divider in there you'd still be trying to get your greedy hooves on those babies.  Want another playtime with the sorry stick?" The really big fluffies are talking a lot with other fluffies. You want to see and move to stand. Mommy talks real quiet when you try. "Nu babbbeh, haf huggies an' be gud fo' mummeh.  Nu be wowd." But your sister had the same idea, she wants to stand up and see the giant fluffies too! Mommy holds you both firm though, even sissy flapping her wings doesn't help. "Pwease... jus' one babbeh?  Nu sowwy stik, Toowip be bestest mummeh eveh!  Giv wots of wuv an' huggies' an miwkies, and babbbeh be happeh an wuv Toowip bak!  Pwease jus' one babbeh fo' Toowip?" "Shut it.  You're on the shit list little girl, don't push me." "Huuuu hu hu hu..." That fluffy sounds really sad, you want to give her a hug, make her feel better. So they've all been like this huh?" "Yes ma'am, they aren't quiet at the best of times but knowing some mares here are keeping their babies has made things a little louder, and a lot more obnoxious.  The plexiglass may stop Tulip, but the rest have been chattering more and more since they found out." You can feel mommy's heart fluttering;  the normal, steady rhythm pounds relentlessly. She's hugging so hard it hurts a little, you try voicing your discomfort but mommy only tells you to be real quiet like good babies. Well your sister is pushing and squeaking and saying she wants up, she mustn't be trying to be a good baby. Your brother just lays there, content to snuggle. He's a good baby. "We don't need these idiots stressing out our testers or themselves, I don't want this BS cutting into our bottom line.  We've pulled some of the crap outta the storage closet, you guys move all six cages in there." "You got it." "I'm headed back upstairs.  There's a buyer for unicorns coming in this afternoon.  Said he may take up to five if our foals are good!" You've almost forgotten the big fluffies are there. Being hugged so long like this, you've never been deeper in mommy's fluffy and it feels just right all over. If only your sister would stop squirming. "So you're gonna turn on the feminine charm huh?" "Please.  With the white unicorns we've got in stock, he may walk out with ten." "Here's hoping then.  So it's the same routine, just a change of locale for all of them?" "Uh huh.  If I remember right it's Marble, Coral, Maple, Gilly, Nel and Stella right?." "Ri-" "Pwease nu take babbehs!  Am gud mummeh, yu say nu takies, nu wie to Stewwa!  Babbehs ne-" "SHUT UP Stella.  Jesus, no one said anything about taking the damn babies.  Just lay there, shut it, and take care of them." "Stewwa gud mummeh, wuv babbehs an' gif huggies an' miwk and wuv, babbehs weal happeh wif mummeh." "Look on the bright side, once they're in a closet you won't have to listen to this constant crap anymore." "No, just the same old crap instead.  Good luck with this afternoon." "Thanks." *clack* *clack* *clack* *clack* Mommy finally moves her hooves off you, your pegasus sister almost rolls off and mommy has to catch her. She starts crying right away about a hurt wingie, you wouldn't know what that's like. Mommy's not so... different anymore, she's gone back to the smiles and hugs you love so much, and even better, she says it's your time for milk! That's a great thing, your tummy owwies were making you feel funny. She sets you down by a teat and you latch on right away, gently kneading the area with your front hooves like you always have. It's not something you even think of, it just feels like the right thing to do. To your left is your brother, mommy must have put him there too. He reaches over and taps your hoof, you do it back. It's a game you made up, trying to touch hooves over and over while suckling. Sissy has no interest in it though, she likes to roam around on mommy's fluff, and even down on the floppy thing that smells like mommy. You don't understand, why would she ever want to leave mommy? Everything is perfect here. Quick as you can you gulp down milk. You're tummy owwies aren't gone, but are feeling different. That's when you look over and see the giant fluffies by another fluffy home. LOTS of them. You had no idea there were so many, it's really... wow! Some of them grab a fluffy home with their front hooves... It's moving! The fluffy homes can move! Cries of surprise and fear rise up, every fluffy in the room is talking all at once. Giant fluffies are moving some of the fluffy homes away. Once again mommy gathers the three of you up, your sister saying she wants to play instead. It's like she doesn't understand, a good baby always does what mommy says. You only had a little milk and you aren't complaining, you're being a good baby. This time you can see a bit, there are other mommies in the homes, and little babies like you as well. Then some come towards your fluffy home. Mommy holds you tight and talks to them again. "Pwease nu take babbehs, pwea-." "SHUT UP NOW!!!  I'm not listening to that all the way upstairs.  Shut your damn mouth or I'll shut it for you." "P..pppwweaase..." A really loud bang shakes your whole home, for the first time these giant fluffies really scare you! You try digging down deeper into mommy's fluff while poking the top of your head out, you want to see what's happening too. And in just a blink, your whole world tilts on it's side. Mommy slides to one side of the cage and hits hard. You tumble out of her grasp and land on the soft thing with just a little hurt on your side. Sissy though is crying and screaming, her whole rear is outside the hard cold things and she's running in place! "Hey look at this one, she's wedged in there pretty good.  Watch this." Mommy is trying to flip herself over while holding on to your brother but you can see whats happening. The really big fluffy's hoof is behind sissy's rear, you don't understand what's going on, only that you're afraid and want back in mommy's fluff right now. *THWACK* *Plink* "Waaaaaaaaa! Waaaaaa owwwwieeeee! Mummeh!  Wan' Mummeh!  Owwwieeeeeeee wwwaaaaaahhhhhh haaaaaa!" The giant fluffy's hoof smacked sissy's bottom really really hard! She popped free from the cold hard things and flew right over mommy into the other side. Mommy is crying, you're crying, and your sister is absolutely wailing. Your brother is still in mommy's hooves, hiding. He also made a bad wet spot, but you don't know about that. "Mummeh!  Hewp babbeh!  Owwies, huwties!  Waaaaaahhhhhhh!" "Ha ha ha ha, did you see that little sucker go?  Closest she'll ever come to flying for real!" You try to walk to mommy but the soft thing is all at one end of your home, underneath it is just more hard cold things. Your legs are sticking through the bottom of home! ... You're going to fall!!! Now you scream for mommy too, this is so scary a little more of that bad wet feel comes out. And it hurts, thin hard things pressing into your belly while your legs dangle. Mommy has finally made her way over to sissy and tries to give her big hugs to make everything better. She's still crying loud and must have lots of owwies after going through the air and hitting the other side like that. But you have owwies too! You call for mommy to come get you, but home is still shaking and tilting, the giant fluffies are taking the whole thing up! You're going up somehow, it'd be astonishing if you weren't hurting and terrified. "Mummeh!  Hewp!  Babbeh hewp!  Hewp wuv mummeh!" You keep on crying out, hoping against hope mommy will get to you soon and take you up into her safe, warm fluff. And she is trying, but with the soft thing out of the way she keeps slipping on the thin, hard, cold things while your home jolts and shifts. The sounds of crying fluffies fill your ears, your families and other fluffy homes that have been moved too. It's almost too much for you to take. Legs dangling, feeling like you're going to fall all the time, mommy tipping onto her side while trying to get to you, the loud sounds giant fluffies make, your whole home moving... You want it all to just stop. Stop and go away. You're standing up. Wha? You're standing on something. Tear filled, blurry eyes aren't much help but it's something solid, just below the hard thin things. And you realize all of a sudden, your home has stopped moving. All the fears and regret and wants of before disappear in a flash, giving way to confusion. Ok, the fear stays too. What happened? Then, red all around you. Mommy picked you up! You're safe, safe and okay! Everything's going to be fine now, mommy has you deep in her fluff and you'll never leave it again. This is where babies are supposed to be, the turmoil of before already fading into tender feelings and warmth. *BANG* Something hits your home so hard it shakes violently. Well there goes those tender feelings. "One of you little picks pissed on my foot, now which one was it?" A giant fluffy stands above your home, they seem even huger now that it rests on the ground. The home must have been on something really high before, in the other place you saw the giant fluffies from about half way up. Now you can see it's... it's... her... her enormous rear hooves, far bigger than you are, and looking nothing like yours at all. So huge are they, you have to strain your neck just to see all the way up to her head. And despite the differences between your family and the giant fluffies, you can tell right away she's giving you an angry look. Like a smile missing the happy. Without a moments hesitation you're pushing deeply into mommy and asking her for hugs. "Hey shit machines, I asked a question." Mommy takes you up along with your crying siblings. Now on your back and with two legs wrapped protectively around you, for the first time you can see the entirety of a giant fluffy. They're just... so huge. The hugist. The most hugist things there are. Nothing could be huger to your mind. "Nu huwt babbehs, am gud babbehs jus' haf scardies!  Pwease nu huwt, babbeh haf owwies, nu need moar owwies!" Your sister had been crying non stop since the giant fluffy hit her bum, you think she's hurt every part she has from all the wailing. your home shakes violently again, the giant's hoof hit one side and your whole family cried out in fear. "Hey, give it a rest.  These ones are being separated for a reason, they're hands off." Another giant is talking to the one scaring you so badly. You want the shaking to stop, your tummy owwies are back and that means time for mommy's milk. Maybe this big fluffy will make the other one be nice? It's a different kind, even bigger and deeper sounding. You think it's a male fluffy and the scary one a female. You're not sure why, but their scents make you feel like that's the way things are. "I thought we were just making room for more cages or something.  What's so special about these?  They look like the same old dumbass fluffies to me." "They're part of an experiment the boss lady is running for a friend of hers.  We've actually been at it for the past month, they each have their own charts, records, it's all buttoned up tight.  I even had to interview all the breeders until our lucky winners here were picked.  Six mares, one litter each, even the stallions got the same treatment.  Now that they've all given birth I gotta watch the babies behavior and health, keeping track of anything unusual." Mommy hasn't loosened her grip even a little bit, you couldn't look away from the giants even if you wanted to, and you don't want to. You're still scared, but being enveloped in mommy's fluff gives you the security to watch them with curiosity instead of blind fear. "So they're all, what, guinea pigs?  For what? "I'm not supposed to be talking about it, just that these six are special and get to keep their babies." "You're shitting me, right?" "Scouts honor." "Is this why I'm not allowed to go down into the dams basement anymore?" "No, that's probably because of your impulse control problem." "Please.  You know what they get like if you let 'em get away with something, they act like they own the place.  That's why you gotta set an example from time to time, make sure they know who's in charge." "You'll have to take it up with her.  Just don't play with these ones until the test's over, ok? "Fine, fine.  I'll make some other friends then.  At least tell me why we had to cart these whiners up here." "When the rest caught wind that so many other mothers got to keep their babies they... well you heard it, they were practically bouncing off the walls.  These babies are supposed to grow up like normal foals and having a room full of pissed off fluffies screaming at them isn't normal." "Might toughen 'em up a bit." "That'd be nice, but they'd most likely become nervous wrecks by the time they're weaned, this way I've got more control over what happens." "Which is?" "Ask your cousin, she'll tell you if she wants to." "This is starting to piss me off, I wanna know what's going on." "Its no big deal, really.  Give me a hand lining them up right and you can go back to help with the breeding, okay?" They fascinate you, being so different from your family and the other fluffies you've seen. And it's not just the size, they smell completely different, sound different, and what's with that incredible, multi colored fluff? Will you grow to be their size some day? Is mommy going to be like them eventually? For some reason, you don't like that idea. No... no you want to stay as you are, stay small and happy, stay fluffy. Stay with mommy. With all that scariness over and the giant fluffies finally gone, mommy cautiously lets you roam around her fluff and look at the new place you're in. Your sister cries into mommy's fluff, still talking about owwies and hurties. That giant fluffy did a mean thing. Your brother went straight for mommy's teat and started drinking again. You'll join him soon, after a little peek at the new world. It's darker for one, there's only one bright place and it's a ball instead of a many lines. The smell is totally different. Musty, stale, not at all like the comforting odor of many fluffies together. In fact, there are only a few other fluffy homes here with yours. You can't count, but there's a home beside yours, and some others in front of it, not touching but much closer than in the other place. The quiet, it's such a difference the quiet is making you nervous. There used to be so many fluffy voices but now, just mommies, your siblings, and very few others. You don't like this place, it was scary getting here and too different. And even if you didn't understand most of it, not hearing all those voices anymore frightens you. The world as you know it has changed, and there are far fewer fluffies here. That's not good, fluffies need to stay together, you know that for sure. Your tummy owwies are back and worse now, hopefully mommy has lots of milk. You need it's comforting taste to fill up the cold, empty feeling leaving all those fluffies behind has left you with. * Outside the closet door * "I can't trust you do do one goddam thing can I?  We NEED these ones in good condition, it's worth a lot of fucking money so don't hurt these babies.  Got it?" "It's a couple sewer rats no one will miss and you're going on-" "Hey!  Quick reminder, it's MY name on your pay cheque right?  These fluffies are each being fed a different kind of chow specially made by a customer.  We're testing it for him and that's all you need to know about it.  Do I really have to ban you from the fucking supply closet?" "If you do it means I don't have to mop up any fluffy vomit right?" "Quit punching 'em in the gut and maybe they'll stop puking." "I won't have a scrawny little hairball talk back to me, not ever.  They wanna be badasses they can prove it." "I don't like my merchandise back talking me either but show a little restraint.  At least use a sorry stick and make sure the rest are watching when a fluffy needs punishment." "Didn't you see what happened in the basement?  They respect the chain of command when I'm around." "You mean horrified of what you'll do.  I'm glad we have the dams asses half in their litter boxes, some of 'em shit the second they saw you." "See?  You need me down there to keep the peace, those guys are too soft and let them get away with murder." "... I'll think about it.  In the mean time, don't fuck up the test subjects, all right?" "If you REALLY don't want them behaving properly I'll leave them to you." "Good.  Well I've got a client to dazzle and I think you're about due to make some babies." "Yep, more fluffy fucking.  Can't hardly wait." "See you after lunch." "see ya." End part 3

[toranistheauthor]

Babbeh - part 2

Babbeh part 2 http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://pastebin.com/u/Toran_is_the_Author Warning:  This story is still hugbox.  Viewer discretion is advised. A sound startles you awake. Nothing loud, just some squeaking from the fluffies who live beside you. You yawn long and hard, yesterday was exhausting, being your first day of life and all. Although your eyes aren't clear yet, you can make out mommy's face as she sleeps. Your chest feels warm and wonderful again. But your belly also makes a noise... and a feeling too. You don't like this feeling, it almost makes you say owwie. But it compels you, this tummy owwie makes you want to drink more milk. With a little effort you manage to turn around and face mommy's teats. That's where you need to go, your milk comes from there and mommy makes it just for you. And your siblings too, but they're still asleep in her fluff. After a little crawling you make your way to a teat and start drinking right away. Yes, this is what you needed, the owwie in your tummy is going away. While you drink, more sounds of chirping and fluffies talking surround you. There must be a lot here. You're too deep in fluff to see much but that's ok, it's so warm and nice here there's no reason to ever leave. Something stirs behind you. Your green brother has crawled over and begins to suckle on mommy's other teat. You look over and him, the word play enters your mind but you want to drink milk more than that. Now your pink sister with the... the wings has joined you and looks around in mommy's fluff for a teat. But she finds none, and starts to talk. "Wan miwk." You understand her, and feel the same way so you keep drinking. Suddenly you feel her hooves against your side, what is she doing? You almost roll over, only your grip on mommy's teat keeps you in place. She's trying to push you off! Your sister wants to take mommy's teat from you! You don't know what to do, she's pressing into your sides and it hurts real bad. Tears start to flow as you feel yourself slipping, she's being such a meanie! But she's surrounded by red fluff and lifted away from you. "Babbehs nu pwshies, mummeh haf miwk fo' aw babbehs.  Haf wait fo' bwoddah, den miwkies. Mommy saved you from your meanie sister, you love her so much. You even stop drinking long enough to say it again. "Wuv mummeh." A hoof rests gently on your back, you're surrounded in fluff and warmth and wonderful. As you keep drinking a sudden brightness surprises you and hurts your eyes. It was dark just before, why is it bright now? There's a *clack* *clack* *clack* and the fluffy voices around you change. They're quieter, faster. "Good morning ladies, time for breakfast." The voices rise up again, many using words you recognize like "wuv" and "babbeh" and "nummies". That clacking draws close and stops. Still feeding you look up as high as you can and see a big shape, blurry but it wasn't there a moment ago. "So how's our special little herd today?  Are your babies feeding all right?" It's a voice but unlike any fluffy you've heard. Mommy's hoof slides down even further, now you're completely beneath it and can't see the big fluffy anymore. At least you think it's a fluffy, what else could talk? "Babbehs haf miwk, babbehs happeh, Stewwa happeh, pwease nu take babbehs." More words, you try to work out what they mean but so much is distracting you. Taste, touch, smell, sound, you can't think about it very much and instead focus on drinking more milk. "I know you heard this yesterday, but just as a reminder you get to keep those babies and raise them but ONLY if you're a good fluffy and do as you're told." It's such a strange voice, loud and strong but also sharp and quick. "Stewwa gud fwuffy, Stewwa wuv babbehs an' babbehs wuv Stewwa, dey say so!  Wan' haf babbehs fo' evah, pwease nu take moar babbehs. Mommy is shaking a little, her hoof pushes down into you, it's a little uncomfortable but you keep trying to drink. "Hey, LISTEN.  I said you can keep them so stop begging already.  Now I need to weigh each one, so just lay there and calm down, this'll just take a second." "Pwease nu huwt babbeh, wuv babbeh!  Nu take!  Pwease, yu say Stewwa keep babbehs!" Now her pushing against you is starting to hurt! You let go of her teat and let out a pained squeak, you tried to say hurt but were too scared by the sudden pain to say it right. "Babbehs happeh, need huggies an' wuv fwom Stewwa!" Suddenly you're on your side, mommy must have moved and you fell off onto the thin, floppy soft thing that smells like her. You're so scared that you cry out again, this time with words. "Huwt babbeh!" "Stella!  You dropped your baby.  Is that how good mothers act?" Your side and tummy hurt a lot, tears start flowing as mommy's hooves lift you up quickly and you're laid down deep into her fluff. "Nu huwt babbeh!  Babbeh is okies, jus' haf axy-dent!  Stewwa gud mummeh, wuv babbehs, pwease nu take babbehs!" Mommy's gentle hugging quiets you down, the hurties melt away into warmth and happiness again. Your brother and sister are right beside you, snuggling down into mommy's fluff, that looks like a good idea. "For the last time Stella, I need to weight them, it'll only take a second and you can watch me the entire time.  Now move your hooves or I'll move them for you." "Pwease nu huwt babbbeh, nu huwt fwuffy, am gud fwuffy... hu hu hu..." Mommy's hooves move away, you can see your sister trying to turn around and your brother... where'd he go? And what's this new smell? "Pwease bwing bak babbeh, babbeh need wuv fwom mummeh!" Mommy is crying? Her voice is making you scared, it doesn't sound warm and happy like before. "3.83 ounces, male earth fluffy, forest green fluff, navy blue mane and tail.  That's about normal, and here we go, back to mommy already.  Was that really so bad Stella?" The big fluffy from before, it's hooves set your brother down on mommy and she's giving him big huggies. You want big huggies too but you can't stop staring at this huge fluffy, it's so big your brother fit inside one of it's hooves! "Wuv babbeh, tank yu fo' gif bak babbeh, wuv babbehs so much!" You manage to sit up in mommy's fluff and look way up high, the really big fluffy picked up your sister in it's hooves and... it's walking too? How is it doing something with it's front hooves and walking all at once? "Wan' mummeh!  Wan' mummeh!  Hewp babbeh!" Your sister is being loud and squeaky, it makes your tummy feel flippy for some reason. "Babbeh be okies, bak wif mummeh soon!" "It's like you things were born to complain.  3.44 ounces, female pegasus, pink fluff, same with the mane and tail.  And here we go, flying back to mommy." "Wan' mummeh!" "Yes I know." Giant fluffy returns again, giving your sister to mommy.  She has both your siblings in her hooves now, but you keep looking at the big fluffy and a word comes to mind. "Pway?" "Ah, you're the friendly little one I heard about.  I'd love to play but your mother probably wouldn't like that.  Come on, lets get you weighed." Huge, strange hooves surround you, it's scent is strong and very different from mommy or your siblings. You're up high! It's scary but giant fluffy's hooves are warm and weird, there's no fluff on them! Before you have any time to really explore them, you're let go. It sets your rear down onto something, it's really cold and hard, like the long thin hard things around mommy. Maybe you'll play with the giant fluffy, its a good fluffy. "4.02 ounces, male earth fluffy, baby blue fluff, navy blue mane and tail just like his brother.  Eager little beaver too." You don't like this feeling, it's too cold and you're starting to get scared without mommy's fluff. Ignoring the loud talking of other fluffies somewhere nearby, you raise your front legs like when you're about to get big hugs. "Pway babbeh?" "Sorry kiddo, no time to play.  But you can go back to mommy instead." "Wuv mummeh." "I wonder if you even understand what you're saying yet.  Seems like it, you might be a smart one.  I'll have to keep an eye on you." And in moment your bum is warm again, being pressed a little hard into mommy's fluff by her legs. "Well look at that, everything taken care of and your babies are fine.  I believe you owe me an apology, Stella." Mommy rubs your back with one leg while cradling your brother and sister in another. "Stewwa wuv babbehs, tank yu fo' nu takies.  Stewwa be bestest mummeh, make hoomans happeh. "Good.  Now, here's your breakfast.  Take good care of those babies, we need them raised right. "Stewwa gud mummeh, gif wots huggies and wuv!" You peer up at the big fluffy as it walks away, making that clacking noise.  It's too blurry to make out but you think it's gone to another place where fluffies live, their voices carry over while mommy positions your siblings near her teats. "Whea babbehs?  Stewwa haf babbehs, whea Cawwie babbehs?  Nu faiw, wan' babbehs!" It doesn't matter, you're too content and comfortable to be thinking about voices from far away fluffies. Right here is exactly where you want to be, nuzzling mommy's fluff, drinking in her scent and basking in the warm feeling deep inside. * Two hours later * "And how about the first group?" "Perfectly healthy, weight is about average, two earthies and a pegasus.  Pretty good colors too." "What a deal this is.  All we have to do is let nature take it's course and collect a nice bonus in ten weeks." "If the tests are successful, will you go with him instead?" "Good question.  We've got a solid working relationship with the current guys, but if Jay can cut a better deal... I'm keeping my options open.  If he gets results it just may be worth it, or at least give us better leverage to put the screws to our current supplier.  You just watch them closely, write down absolutely ANYTHING out of the ordinary and let me know about it too." "Sure thing.  I'd better get back down there, I think Ruby is going to have her litter sometime today." "Great, hopefully we get some more unicorns out of her.  See you later." "Later boss." End part 2

[toranistheauthor]

Contagion side projects 1 - Baldies - part 1

Contagion - Side project 1 - Baldies As a little note. I write these stories because I find the basic concept of fluffies fascinating.  As such, I enjoy exploring into their nature and behaviors, looking into what makes them tick.  That's why I can't write anything shorter than a novel and everything is overly wordy.  A wise man once said "brevity is the soul of wit", but I prefer detail and nuance to witty, short stories.  I read those too and do enjoy them, but for myself and what I write, this is how I have to do it.  At least I've learned to break them into chapters. http://toranistheauthor.deviantart.com/ http://toranistheauthor.tumblr.com/ And now for something somewhat different. It's one of those kind of military bases, nothing but a small dirt road out into the middle of a highly guarded, patrolled and defended nowhere.  Google maps shows nothing but scrub land and as far as everyone's concerned, that's the way it is. Being the Colonel heading the feral fluffy extinction project was no cake walk in the beginning. Your first weeks were pretty tough on the men and women who served under you, it's an officers prerogative to take his frustrations out on those he commands;  you'd viewed this as some kind of punishment rather than a worthwhile assignment.  The good leaders however find ways to make it up to their people when they realize what jackasses they've been.  The poor ones never advance in rank and are eventually told why by a very unhappy General. You've done your best to make good; the army was right in sending you here, giving you these people and working towards this goal.  The ferals cause so much damage to farms and infrastructure it's staggering.  Tens of thousands of car accidents a year.  Fluffy bodies clogging up water processing plants.  The sewers?  In every major city on the east coast employment of tunnel workers has multiplied by a factor of ten, mostly to remove bloated fluffy corpses that gum up everything with their damn fluff. These things gotta go and you're dedicated to the task.  Over the past year you've seen several different poisons at work, genetic manipulation, viruses, even psychological solutions.  Which brings you to partition six.  Originally five, one for depriving them of each sense, a new one was added when your team stumbled upon an interesting social interaction by blind luck.  They even offered to explore it on their own time, it's unusual to find people so interested in their job these days.  So while this likely won't be a demonstration of mass fluffy destruction, it's all right so long as the real work still gets done.  Besides, you've grown to find the fluffies themselves are an interesting little phenomenon.  You enter the control area for partition six and wave everyone down before they stand and salute. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, just what is this little experiment you've been cooking up?" A woman wearing standard fatigues under her lab coat approaches, laptop tucked under her arm. "Good morning sir, we were just about to release the control group.  In a few minutes you'll bear witness to something quite unique and... odd." "So what exactly is this surprise anyway?  Your team is small but I've given it a lot of latitude and it's about time to see some results." Everyone in the background tries to look busy while you look down at the young woman in front of you. "Well.. *ahem* Sir we've made an interesting discovery in fluffy behavior sir, a genetic memory that stays with them no matter how many generations are born "different".  We're up to eight generations by the way with no sign of them forgetting sir." "How'd you come across this behavior anyway?" "We'd taken a new shipment of fluffies from a shelter about ninety miles from here, over a hundred and thirty of them meant for various experiments.  They were glad to be rid of them as I'm sure you can imagine sir.  Well it turns out at least one of the city ferals had an E.T.D.  An Enf-"  You stop her by raising a hand. "We all know what Enf Transmitted Diseases are, I've been here for a while you know." "Oh.. oh sir, I'm sorry I di-" "Relax, you're wound up tight today Liz.  I've seen more sex on this base than when I was stationed in Southern Nam.  Unfortunately it's always between two neon hairballs." "I've heard the stories sir, they sound impossible but.. oh, I'm sorry sir that-" "They're true, all of them.  Please continue and at ease for God's sake." Liz clears her throat, takes a few steps towards the one way glass and looks out into the compound. "At least one of the new fluffies was a carrier.  Are you familiar with F.E.S. sir?" "Actually no, seems like these little buggers pick up more viruses and diseases every day.  What is it?" "Fluff Epilation Syndrome causes a fluffy to lose every single strand of fluff, replaced with red, raw sores which cause great pain when they move.  Most sufferers starve to death or are killed by a predator since it hurts so much just to walk." "A bald fluffy pony?  Now that's something worth seeing." "In fact sir, that's the focus of our sub group here.  The F.E.S. sufferer not only went bald and sore, but we noticed every fluffy that interacted with it did little more than point, laugh and call it silly looking, the poor thing was completely ostracized from the herd." "I understand their fluff is important to a fluffies social standing."  You join her by the window, expecting the control group to be released any minute now.  If they're really bald, this ought to be quite a show. "Critically important sir.  The condition of their fluff is the primary method fluffies use for judging each others standing in a herd.  Healthy, well groomed, nice smelling fluff gives them status and influence over others.  Healthy fluff means a healthy fluffy and thus, more desirable for mating as well.  They use sight primarily but also smell and touch to determine the health of another fluffies fluff." "So it trumps all in fluffy society?  Jesus did I just say they have a society?  I've been here too long." She sets her laptop down and unfolds it, pressing a few buttons.  The LCD's nearby come on to reveal several different camera views of the enclosure. "Certainly sir, even above good behavior and success at finding food or shelter, fluffies respect nice fluff over all.  It's why smarty friends spend so much time being groomed and try to keep themselves clean while the rest of their herd does the dirty work.  This seems hardwired into their minds, all experiments to make them see smart behavior or good leadership being more important than prettier fluff have failed.  The Hasbro scientists theorize someone plugged that in so they'd try to stay clean and not track dirt around the house, some even wipe their feet without being taught the behavior.  About the only thing that can override this belief is fear, that's why we see so many smarties leading their herds with violence and threats, every fluffy is afraid of getting hurt in any way." "Yes, I've seen one react the same to getting a little fluff pulled out as she did being kicked in the face repeatedly and losing some teeth." "Which experiment was that sir?" "Enclosure three, there are no partitions in that one.  We removed the ability to have babies from mares and they went absolutely insane without being able to interact with a baby in some way.  They're still over there if you're interested, drop a foal or baby in and they'll literally kill each other and the little one trying to keep it for herself." "That does have potential sir, maybe I could take one of ours and introduce it?  Considering the difference to a normal baby it could be interesting to see how they react!" "Fine idea, we'll try that at a later date.  For now, please continue briefing me on this group." "Yes sir.  What we've done is introduce an epilation agent without full on F.E.S.  The results, completely healthy, normal, bald fluffies." You turn your back to her, but trying to hide your laughter is impossible. "Heh, yes sir no matter how many times I see them, it's always a chuckle at least." " *Ahem* Well then, lets get on with it.  You had them removed for bathing correct?  Is that done?" "Yes sir, the baldies are all hand washed, cleaned and ready to come back to their compound."  She spoke a few words into her walkie talkie and clipped it back onto her lab coat. "Baldies hmm?" "We couldn't call them fluffies without laughing sir." "I believe-"  You're cut off by the sight of what must be the most pathetic, depressed and despondent looking group of animals you've ever laid eyes on.  Over sixty of these bright pink, pipe cleaner legged, naked for the world to see creatures morosely shuffled out a garage style door and back into their 30' X 70', nature inspired holding area.  Their hangdog expressions and moping around only added to their comical appearance, Droopy coming to mind immediately.  Somehow they managed to look both wretchedly scrawny with those pencil thin legs and comically flabby with puffy cheeks and rolls of flesh around their necks at the same time.  The lack of fluff really emphasized their large heads which hung lower than a normal fluffies, most walked looking towards the ground. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha!  Oh good lord!  Jesus, that's priceless.  I wish we could send pictures of this stuff home, my wife would flip over this!  And I thought those hairless cats were ugly!" Liz to your right tries stifling her own little breakdown behind a hand despite open laughter coming from other members of her team.  "Yes sir, they are a little absurd to look at aren't they? "I guess there was a lot more fluff on their, heh heh, legs than I'd thought.  I've seen soaking wet fluffies before, but this?  This is just, heh, *ahem* sad."  You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat.  Come on now, act like a professional. The baldies slowly spread out to nibble on the plants and grasses their enclosure provides.  When the two soldiers who'd come out with them turn to leave, a cacophony of complaints and begging starts up immediately, they don't want them to go. "Why are they complaining about the soldiers leaving?" "Well sir, we've found they prefer the company of humans to even each other, and it's specific humans too.  At first we though the connection was men, they always wanted to be around the male soldiers but as it turns out, it's the hairstyle they go by. "Hairstyle?  Whatever for? "Losing their fluff has profoundly affected the baldies.  As such, they'd rather be around humans with shorter "fluff" themselves.  It wasn't a large difference, they weren't hostile or even rude to sergeant Mallory who has hair as long as regulation will allow, they just wanted to be around those with shorter hair.  In other words, soldiers with shaved heads.  One sergeant who shaves her head entered and they welcomed her just the same as the men. Just when you thought these little things couldn't get any stranger.  "You said they prefer humans to other flu- baldies?  Why?" "We've discussed how important fluff is to a fluffy, sir.  Yet despite being entirely hairless, they still refer to themselves and consider themselves fluffy ponies.  When one is hurt it'll say "Fluffy hurt", their smarty friend refers to his herd as "fluffies".  Being a fluffy is, for some reason, of the utmost importance to them.  As if being a fluffy pony is better than being anything else. You just nod along, that the fluffies believe themselves to be important or even superior is no surprise to you.  Liz continued speaking while watching one wriggle and squirm, slowly lowering it's butt into the grass to sit down.  Apparently they don't like the feeling blades of grass up their rears. "Our soldiers never mistreat them or even mention the fact that their fluff is missing, something a normal fluffy certainly does.  Once we had an accident where a handler called one baldy instead of fluffy, he corrected himself right away but you can make out their facial expressions even clearer now, it's feelings were quite hurt." A few had wandered up close to the one way glass and picked idly at the nearby bushes. "Wan' pway wif baww?" "Na, fwuffy jus' haf' nummies an sweepies." "Okies."  And they went right back to slowly chewing little bits of leaf. "That didn't sound much like the high pitched, hyperactivity of the usual fluffy." "Not at all sir.  Every one has all the symptoms of depression, down to the last foal.  As I mentioned we're eight generations in and yet every one realizes something is wrong, they know instinctively they should be covered in a layer of thick fluff and are quite unhappy that it isn't there." "So none of them have ever seen a regular fluffy?" "The whole herd sir?  Not for four generations.  We have removed individuals from time to time and introduced them to small groups of regular fluffies.  The results were surprising at the time, though they really shouldn't have been.  Every fluffy, from stallion to foal to pregnant dam laughed at the bald fluffy and insisted it wasn't a fluffy pony at all." Liz began cleaning her glasses as she repeated the tale.  "It was a sad scene, whenever they mocked him or burst our laughing he'd waddle a little closer to the group while crying about being a fluffy just like them, wanting badly to be accepted.  He'd try to hug like normal fluffies do, experiencing the feeling of fluff for the first time of his life, and they'd push him away.  Even when the normals got a good sniff of our baldie, he was refused outright." "How far did it go?" "When our little fellow got desperate and started clinging to a dam, some grew scared that he'd somehow make them bald too and bucked him off, hard.  As his anxiety grew worse and attempts to stop our baldie from touching them became more violent I barely managed to intervene in time. Baldies cut much easier than fluffies with nothing to protect them, he was a mess physically and mentally by the time he'd been recovered." Interesting, and possibly useful.  Maybe this group hasn't been a waste of taxpayer money after all. "You've checked to make sure their scent glads are working right?" "Yes sir.  Their hocks, the little calloused areas on a horse, pony or even fluffy's legs where scent comes from still function fluff or no fluff.  Even the dog anal scent glands they've inherited are fine.  The baldies do keep their tails pressed down tightly against their rears however, they have a little modesty it seems."  She speaks with authority and confidence.  You decide not to mention you've learned everything there is to know about fluffy physiology for the better part of a year now. Two baldies wander closer off to your left.  They seem to circle each other once, say something in that uncharacteristically morose voice and then walk off again, heads down. "Yes I've been watching them sniff each other, especially around the back legs and rear, that tail is pressed down as hard as they can I suppose." "It's notoriously easy to hurt a fluffy's feelings sir.  Now imagine that sensitivity times ten, there's a baldie's mindset for you. "So they were laughing at him right from the get go?  All right, but how did HE react to seeing them for the first time.  His very first exposure to normal fluffies.  As if you can consider the things normal." "Well sir, he was somewhat excited to be going anywhere new, baldies rarely get worked up like fluffies can.  I never mentioned where we were going but he was still pressing his face up against the bars." "So you're the one who brought him to the regular types?" "Yes sir, once he caught sight of the group he was suddenly very excited and even started dancing with joy in the carrier.  It's the most "fluffy like" I've ever seen one of them act before, he couldn't wait to get out.  His encounter lasted fifteen minutes and by the time it was over with the laughter, mocking, and eventual attack... His depression, universal for baldies, grew far worse.  He didn't want medical treatment and told us repeatedly he wanted to die.  Two days later we found him dead in the enclosure, he'd ran straight into our simulated stream and drowned.  Even without fluff, they lack the leg strength to swim and the sense to stop breathing when their heads are underwater, but the video shows he hadn't even tried to save himself.  Interviews with the rest revealed he never told a soul about the real fluffy fluffies so close by.  It was a little sad actually." "It's best not to get attached to our test subjects, you know that." "Yes sir, I just felt bad for seeing him rejected and mocked like that." A small gathering of baldies crest a short hill and pick at the flowers, not squeaking about nummies, not playing or dancing in celebration of finding food, they simply plop down on the dirt and chew.  You note they're even facing away from each other. You don't mind letting her have that moment of weakness, it sounds like these baldies are incapable of being happy.  Just being around the things for long enough is bound to bring anyone down. "Hmmmmmmm... Tell me, what other changes has this balding process wrought, how do they identify each other?" "Mostly through scent sir, scent and names.  I'm sure you've seen them sniffing around quite a bit more than a fluffy would, especially at each others hocks and rears since they have scent glands like dogs as well as horses.  Conversations almost always start with "Who you" and they often then give each other a good sniff.  Afterwards the talk begins or they move on, often wordlessly if it's the wrong baldy.  They don't have the same "play with everyone, hug everyone, love everyone" kind of mentality fluffies have.  In fact, physical contact is kept to a bare, heh, minimum.  They're herding instinct is still there, but every one gives each other a bit of personal space.  Bumping into another by accident is always grounds for apology." More have congregated by the one way glass, whats weird is how they just... sit there.  Despite being in a small group, the baldies didn't even want to look at each other.  Some lay down, others sit, a mother sits by her two foals, not even looking at them.  "Do they avoid eye contact?" "Yes they do sir, good eye.  We feel it goes back to the pride thing.  Baldies and normal fluffies alike view being a fluffy as something special and important, honestly the majority have a bit of a ego if you ask the right questions.  Our baldies feel that fluffy pride but lack the fluff.  Despite never seeing a real fluffy adult before they're all ashamed of themselves." As if on cue, one of the baldies eating flowers suddenly stops.  He stares at his little outstretched legs for a few moments, and silently starts to cry. "Oh!  See that one sir?  The one by the daisies?  Watch his group through the camera." You do so, fiddling with the blasted thumb stick until it's zoomed in on their small gathering.  The laser microphones pick up mostly chewing, but also some sniffles.  Within a minute, the others around him pick up on his mood and have started crying too, little sobs and sniffles punctuating the gloom. "We believe this happens when they start thinking about what they are, or considering why they have no fluff.  Either way, that's what you get when baldies think too hard about why they feel sad.  We've had the whole enclosure crying for hours at a time."  She nods her head and enters a time stamp for this spontaneous crying event.  It's a very long list. "I've been wondering why none of them were hugging.  Even that mother over there has her babies on the ground beside her instead of on her back."  And that's exactly what you're observing now, a mother sitting on her rump, letting two babies feed while a third simply lays behind them, waiting it's turn and crying about something you can't hear.  If you had to guess, it'd be when it's turn is coming. "It's one of the most pronounced differences we noticed right away sir.  Baldies detest the feeling of their flesh up against another baldy.  There's been a lot of experimentation and interviews on the subject, they derive no joy from hugging like fluffies do, and of course there's no point in helping a friend or family member groom.  This is one of the reasons they're so depressed, fluffies need social and physical interaction, that's a hardwired fact.  These guys get less social and next to no physical contact at all; add to that the fluffy pride they're all instinctively aware of and you end up with one depressed baldy.  We've done nothing to keep them from playing or hugging, they just don't like it and would rather mope in small groups.  We hear very little laughter from them." Off in the distance, a baldie mare peers into a slow flowing stream the enclosure provides, sees her reflection and jerks back.  At first startled, the shock gives way in moments to sadness.  And mere seconds later her emotional roller coaster culminates with quiet sobbing into her hooves. On some level she understands, it wasn't meant to be this way.  She's a fluffy pony, that's supposed to be something incredible... isn't it?  Then where is her fluff?  Where is the joy, the happiness, the pride deep down she believes she should feel?  But she has more tears than answers, slumping down to the ground, allowing uncomfortable little bits of gravel to poke into her soft, smooth belly. End part 1 Next time - Contact with regular fluffies.  Tears or jeers?

[toranistheauthor]

Babbeh

Babbeh http://pastebin.com/QPGhHxWW http://pastebin.com/QPGhHxWW Warning:  This story is entirely hugbox.  Viewer discretion is advised. It starts with a sound. You don't know what it is, being the first sound you've ever heard. Then a feeling... wetness, coldness. You don't like them. But then something else happens, a warmth envelops and lifts you up. It feels nice, it feels right. Then wetness again, but a good kind, its removing the uncomfortable cold from before. You open your mouth and a sound comes out, a squeak. You hear other squeaks close by, and now you're surrounded by warmth on all sides. It's wonderful. There's more sounds, and now smells too. A smell of comfort and safety. That's something you know to be true, it simply is. You should be here, this is a good place for you. Reaching out with tiny parts of your body... your legs... there's a bump just ahead, it's moist. It's important, something you need to get to right away. With some effort, you pull yourself through warm, wonderful fuzz and to where you're supposed to be. You clamp your lips around it and start sucking without even thinking. And the most amazing feeling of all floods into you. This is milk, you need to drink as much as you can. There's a sudden loud sound, you don't like it but it goes away soon. Loud and sharp, followed by a low rumble. But it barely registers, you're too busy with all these amazing sensations. The security of being engulfed by fluff. A comforting, rhythmic bumping coming from deep within the fluff you're nestled in. The scents that surround you, and the taste of milk. And that smell... fluff... fluffy... mommy. This is mommy. Thinking about her makes your chest warm and feel good. You can hear chirping of others like you near by. You're beginning to understand. You're a fluffy pony. Continuing to drink quick as you can, there's a feeling to the right. Another leg? A fluffy's leg, and they smell a lot like mommy... a brother or sister. They're feeding too. The sounds are clearer now, you hear "mummeh wuv babbeh". You don't know what that means, but its good, it's a good sound. You are exactly where you're supposed to be, doing what you're supposed to be doing, almost overwhelmed by the feelings in your chest. Mommy is so important, you feel so strongly about her but don't know how to express it. Chirping only gets you more chirps back from different directions. Suddenly, the first warmth is back, you know her legs have lifted you up. "Babbeh haf shawe wif sissy, aw babbehs get miwk." She holds you close and the feeling in your chest soars. It takes a little time, but your chirps become a few of the words she uses. "Wuv, babbeh, miwk!" "Siwwy babbeh, yu funneh." "Babbeh, babbeh, mummeh!" "Mummeh wuvs siwwy babbeh." Your words didn't come out properly but hers were just right. They were perfect. She's keeping you warm, it's cold outside of her fluff, and wet too, you didn't like the wet feel. Your legs reach around and manage to hug one of mother's legs. "Babbeh gif mummeh huggies?  Mummeh gif huggies bak!" It's that perfect feeling again. "Wuv mummeh." You said it right, it came out right and you're so proud of yourself. You told her how you feel, finally that feeling in your chest makes sense. It's love, love for your mother. "Mummeh wuv babbeh, gif miwkies soon an' babbeh get stwong an' big" Life is becoming clearer still, mother says milk is good for you, she's the one who gives you what you need. There's a soft click sound. Suddenly mother rolls on her side, you're safe in her legs but your siblings who were feeding have slid off! "Babbeh nu wowd, nu tawkies."  She says in a hushed tone while they cry softly. There's a steady clacking sound, quiet, then loud, then quiet again. Mommy said something about talking, you wait to hear more but she says nothing else, instead gathering up your brother and sister and hugging all three of you for a minute. Being hugged together, all warm and safe, you could stay like this forever. There are new smells, and your hearing is sharper. Mommy continued to lay on her side, there were some hard cold things really close you didn't like. It's difficult to feed when she's laying like this, you wish you knew how to ask her to lay on her back again. There's so many smells in the air, they come from every direction. The smells are other fluffy ponies, you're sure of it somehow. Between feeding and getting hugs, you paw at your siblings and they do it back, feeling each other and exploring the ground while still pressed against mother's fluff. Then, light. Light and pain, you say owwie reflexively and mother asks what's wrong quietly. You're not sure though, this is something new! Every time you try it, it's a little easier and after a few minutes, you can see. And the world world folds open right in front of you. Everything is blurry but there's a shape you know is mommy Her beautiful red fluff and mane, and big, caring eyes looking down at you. Your siblings are also starting to see for the first time, you have a green brother and a pink sister with flaps on her back! Those are... wings, you know that makes her... a pegasus! This new world is amazing to behold, there are many blurry shapes but getting close makes them clear. Right now you clearly see mother's teat and head right for it. There's another strange noise, more of those clacks. You want to see what makes that noise but can't see over mommy, she's much bigger than you. "Had your litter yet, huh?" A sudden clanging sound startles you along with the new voice, oddly deeper but still kinda like mommy's It's really loud too. You want to see the fluffy that talks like that! "Nu babbehs, stiwl in tummeh."  Mother replied to the voice, and she mentioned you, you're a baby fluffy pony. "uh huh... well, any minute now right?  Tell me when it starts to hurt and I'll come help you." "Okies" The clacking again, it fades off into the distance. Oh! While you were trying to see the other fluffy, your sister took the teat you were sucking on, that's not fair! You move back and push against her but she pushes too, your brother drinking from the higher teat looks down and suckles contently. "Babbeh nu pwshies, mummeh haf miwk fo' aw babbehs. It's not fair though, she stole your teat. You lean against mother and feel your face getting warm... no, wet. Warm and wet. That was so mean of her, you only looked away for a moment and she stole your milk. You cry for the first time, mother gently hushing you as she hugs. It quiets you down quickly, hugs feel too good to keep crying for long. As the day passes, mother doesn't move from that spot. Behind you are hard cold things that don't taste nice. The soft thing mommy lays on smells like her so you like it. You've had several turns feeding and learned a few more words. Like "huwt" when your brother fell asleep and rolled off mommy and onto your head. You said "Mummeh hewp, huwties!" Saying or mommy is too hard, but "mummeh" sounds right to you and she likes it, you're happy she likes it. You want her to be happy all the time. *Clack* *Clack* *Clack* *Clack* Mommy quickly gathers the three of you up and holds you gently into her fluff again. Maybe it's a game? Games are fun, right? You'd like to try one. The word "play" comes to mind, you said it out loud a few times but mother hushes you and puts her hoof lightly against your mouth. "Well?  Aren't you going to show them to me?" It's the deeper sounding fluffy again! "Nu haf babbehs, stiwl in tummeh." "I heard you talking to yourself.  I also heard you answering in a really high pitched voice.  Oh, and the gallon of fluid around your ass kinda tipped me off it. I knew you gave birth last time I was here, I just wanted to see if you'd tell me the truth for once." "Pwease, babbehs stiwl in tummeh." "Stella, you don't want to do things the hard way, do you?" Everything changes all of a sudden. Mother is shaking, and she's crying too! What could make mommy cry? Your siblings cling to her fluff tightly, as do you. Anything that could scare mommy, scares you. "Pwease nu take babbehs, dey need miwk, need wuv an' huggies.  Pwease nu take." "I just want to see what you've had, that's all.  Now roll over.  Now." The whole world seems to shift as mother clutches all of you and rolls onto her back again. It's huge! The deeper sounding, loud fluffy is absolutely huge! It looks nothing like mommy or your siblings. And so many different colors of fluff! You don't now their names but there's more colors than you have hooves. Some of it is real long too, much longer than mommy's. Its face is very close to the cold hard things, you think it... no, she. She looks strange for a fluffy. Then her eyes meet yours, peeking out from inside in mommy's fluff and held in place with her hooves. "Pway?" That's what fluffies do right? It was the first word that popped into your head, and seemed like the right thing to say. You want to play with your new really big friend, even raising your tiny forelegs up for a hug. Mommy pushes them back down though, so quick it even hurts a bit! Owwie! Why would she do that? "Seems like you've got a nice, friendly litter, I think they'll do just fine." You think she's smiling at you, you smile right back despite mommy acting so funny. "Babbehs need mummeh, wuv babbeh, pwease nu take 'way..." "Really jumpy today aren't you Stella?  No one's taking your babies away, just be SURE to take good care of them.  "... Nu take?  Babbehs stay wif mummeh?  Nu wie to fwuffy? "Would a face like this lie?  No, it's your job to feed and raise these babies.  Do a good job, understand? And I mean it, remember your friend Sunflower?  Remember what happened to her when she hurt her babies? "Nuuuuuu, swnfwowa bad fwuffy, Stewwa gud fwuffy, nu huwt babbehs.  Wub babbehs mo' den huggies o' nummies!  Stewwa NEVA huwt babbehs, wuv babbehs! "Ok, ok, I get it.  Just remember, I'll be watching you real close.  I dunno why she wants to try this little experiment, but who gives a shit so long as it pays the bills, right? "Wuv babbbehs, Stewwa happeh!  Tank yu, take bestest cawe of babbehs! The huge fluffy is walking away, but you never got a hug! *clack* *clack* *clack* *clack* *clack* *thunk* Aw, you wanted to play with the new, big fluffy. But mommy seems so happy now, she smiles so widely and gives the three of you the biggest hug ever. "Mummeh haf babbehs, nu takies wike befo'.  Mummeh keep babbehs, nu saddies!" Wuv babbehs sooooo much!" You've never seen mommy so loud and happy, before she was quiet even when talking. This other kind of mommy is even better, shes all smiley and plays and giggles and doesn't just lay on one side between you and the front of the cage. And so you play, and suckle, and give lots of hugs to mommy and your siblings. All the while your hearing and eyesight improve, you can see the other fluffies you smelled before. Everyfluffy is talking too, a lot of the words are new and hard to make out but you want to hear more. They're all surrounded by cold hard things like you and your family. Right now they're just different colored blobs to you, but maybe you'll get to play with them as well? That'd be the best, you want to play and give hugs to every fluffy there. There's so much to do, and see, and taste and smell! But for now, your eyelids are getting heavier and everything's slowing down. You finish feeding and crawl away from mommy teat, turning around. Part of you knows it's time to sleep but when you wake, it's mommy you want to see first thing. In moments you've drifted off, aided by a hoof lightly stroking your back. It's been an eventful eight hours of life. End part 1