Congation side project 1 - Baldies part 2

Contagion side project 1 part 2 - Baldies

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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'd 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!