Bandit's New Job - 1

FractalFluff, February 19, 2014; 17:13 / FB 18139
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(Hugbuse? Ab-box? Just don't know anymore. Why did I even write this? I think my brain is broken.)

BANDIT'S NEW JOB

>Be a shelter operative.
>Not especially keen on fluffies
>Okay, you think fluffies are a horrible mistake.
>But it's not their fault
>And you feel sorry for the little freaks.
>You spay, neuter, euthanize
>All without rancour.
>You treat the all shelter fluffies as well as you can.

>Except for a few.
>Abusive Smarty-friends, serial foal-killers, and milk bandits.
>They get all of your buried ire.

>The daytime crew caught a milk bandit today
>They've put him in a sorry-box
>Instead of the usual timer on top, there's a note:
>"MILK BANDIT", it reads. "All yours, pal."
>Then, in smaller text:
>"Killed two litters in his old herd + one in here. Get creative!"
>Then there's a smiley face.

>All yours, pal.

>You smile at the bandit.

>"Dummeh hoomin!" he snaps through the tiny barred aperture in the sorry-box.
>"Wet Smawty out NAO! Gif bigges owwies!"

>A milk bandit AND an abusive Smarty?

>You prepare to get very creative.

>A deliberate quadruple amputation could cost you your job
>But there's nothing in the rules about restraints.
>There's a four-point rack available for "anxious" fluffies
>Its supposed to be humane
>There are four posts, each with an elastic-and-Velcro shackle
>And optional body-belt, neck and head restraints
>With blinkers for nervous ponies.
>It can be positioned with the posts vertical, to allow the fluffy to stand
>Or horizontal, so restrained mothers can sit or lie down to feed their babies.
>Perfect.

>With many flicks and squeezes you place the Smarty in the restraints.
>He screams about all of the owwies he's going to give you:
>"YU DUMMEH HOOMIN! SMAWTY AM SMAWTY! GIF BIGGES OWWIES! GIF YU MAWES SPESHUW HUGGIES! MAKE WOTSA SMAWTY TUMMEH-BABBEHS! GIF YU FOWEVAH SWEEPIES AN TAKE WAND! GONNA GIF SOWWY POOPIES!"

>Till you muzzle him.

>You flip him over so that he's lying on his back.
>First, you shave his belly from his chest to the base of his tail.
>Muffled yells and threats dissolve into muffled pleas
>And the occasional muffled squeak
>You "accidentally" nick him in some sensitive regions.

>"Milk bandit, huh?" you say.
>"Does da widdle fwuffy wike his miwky-wiwkies, dens?"

>You cut off a section of the heavy-duty adhesive plasters the shelter uses to patch up injured ponies
>More like fabric duct-tape than anything.
>The shelter fixes all its fluffies, except the pregnant dams
>But uses this new hack some vet came up with: a "humane" and "non-invasive" method
>Reversible, leaves fluffies' sex drives and external bits intact.
>So you can't actually cut off his junk.

>He doesn't know that.

>"I guess if you want to be a big baby, you don't mind giving up special huggies!"
>Pick up a big elastic band
>Whip off his muzzle. You want to hear this.
>You want the other fluffies to hear it too.
>"Say goodbye to your no-nos, Bandit!"
>"NUUU! Fwuffy nee' noh-nohs! Wuv noh-nohs! Pwease nu take noh-nohs pwease pwease PWEAAAAA — "
>Pull back the band, give 'em a good PING
>He can't see what you're doing
>The searing pain convinces him that he's been gelded.

>"NUUUUU! Noh-nohs goooooooone!"

>Tuck his shrunken, throbbing junk into the abdominal cavity
>Slap the plaster over it all, leaving just a small gap for pee.
>What you have in mind will do away with any little urges he might get.
>Let him see the apparently blank spot where his bits ought to be.

>"Huuhuuhuu... munstah take noh-nohs... huuu..."

>Before doing your rounds that night
>You give him the first of many hormone shots
>("Owwwiee... why huwt Fwuffy... huuhuuhuu...")
>And prepare a detailed treatment plan for the day shift to follow:
>Shots
>Restraints
>Special kibble.

>You set everything up so it's handy for the staff
>Assign his specialized care to a couple of colleagues who you trust to go along with it.

>After a couple of days he's coming along nicely
>No longer begs for his no-nos back
>Though he still pleads for his legs.
>Since he can't move them, he assumes he's an amputee.
>With the proper care (regular adjustment, repositioning, rub-downs)
>All he should lose is a little muscle tone.

>But he doesn't know that.

>"Your leggies hate you. They ran away."
>"Wahh! Come back, weggies! Pweeeease!"
>"Nope! You're neeeeever going to see them again."
>"Huuhuuhuu..."

>Best of all
>The two swellings just above his crotch are really blossoming.
>He's about a fluffy A-cup after two days.
>The fenugreek in the kibble makes him smell like maple syrup.

>After a week of shots and Happy Mummah Kibble he's really filling out
>Take off his head and neck restraints, let him see his body.
>"Wahhh..? Fwuffy haf... Fwuffy haf miwkie pwaces..?"

>"Big fat milkie places!" you tell him cheerfully.
>"HUUHUUHUUUU! NU WAN! NU WAN MIWKIE PWACES!"
>Trapped in the classic "huggies-please" pose
>He jolts and writhes in his restraints
>"WAN NOH-NOHS! WAN WEGGIES! WAN BE STAWWION 'GAIN!"

>Laughing, you park him so that the other fluffies get a good eyeful
>They know who he is and what he did.
>They can't get to him
>(You're not THAT evil)
>But he can hear and see them.
>All the stallions calling him a "pwetty mawe!"
>Offering to give him tummy-babies
>The mares gesturing and laughing
>Asking where his babies are
>Telling him he should be feeding his foals...

>Huh.
>Now there's an idea.

>You start pumping him.
>Nothing comes out at first
>But with regular assistance
>He begins to lactate.

>You give the regular vet a sample of the milk, saying it's from one of the nursing mothers
>There's a slight trace of the female hormone in the mix
>You cut back his shots, sample again
>It tests okay.

>The shelter is always getting orphaned foals.
>Hand-feeding takes up a lot of time
>Rack feeding has a high mortality rate
>A wet-nurse is always the best option
>But there are so few mothers willing to foster a foal.

>Bandit becomes a loving wet-nurse
>A noise-cancelling muzzle and a couple of speakers replace his sobs and wails with affectionate maternal cooing and singing.
>Most times, one or two happy foals nurse obliviously from his abundant teats
>They're the only company he gets.
>He no longer fights.
>Just slumps in his rack
>Muzzle permanently stained with bitter tears
>The note the day shift left is still pinned up over his isolation pen
>Just one small amendment:

>BANDIT has been crossed out
>And BAG written in.