Bandit's New Job - 2

FractalFluff, February 25, 2014; 17:50 / FB 18499
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(Because the first one wasn't gross enough? I don't know. Someone kill me, or something.)

BANDIT'S NEW JOB, part 2

>"Huuhuuhuuu... huuhuuhuuuhuuuu... huuuhuuhuuu..."

>Be a former milk thief.
>Be called Bandit.
>At least, that's what everyone calls you now.
>You can't remember your old name anymore.
>You were once the Smarty Friend of a large herd
>You delighted in holding down mares, stealing their milk
>Sometimes you'd stomp their foals to messes
>Sometimes you'd watch them chirp and plead for milkies
>While their mummahs would beg and wail and huuhuuhuu
>Until they died of tummy-owwies.

>Then your herd turned on you
>Gave you lots and lots of sorries.
>Hoomins caught you and some of your herd before they could kill you

>At the shelter, you did the same thing to one of the mummahs there.
>Stomped her last two foals
>Then kicked and bit her and drank up her milk.

>When the humans saw what you did, they took away your leggies
>Took your no-no place — your pee-pee stickie AND your special lumps!
>Did some hoomin magic with their pointy-owwies that gave
>Put a thing over your mouthie so you couldn't speak
>Put things that made mummah-sounds by your head
>Made you feed foals.
>Foals!
>Mewling, weak, wobbly little foals, good only for stomping.

>Normally you are tied up so you can't move too much.
>Sometimes the humans take you away from the other fluffies, though
>They cover up your eyesies and put you on a table
>They take some of your fluff, mostly from round your poopie place
>("Huuhuuhuu, wan fwuff!")
>They trim your tailie-hairs
>("Huuhuuhuu, wan taiwie!")
>They wash you with their funny-smelling hoomin wawa
>("Huuhuuhuu! Wawa BAD fow fwuffy!")
>(Don't they know your natural musk is part of being a STALLION?)
>They give you owwie rubbies all over.

>"Huuhuuhuuu, weggie owwies! Wyyy haf weggie owwies wen nu haf weggies nu mowe?"

>"Phantom limb syndrome," says a Mister Hoomin.

>"Huuhuuhuu... huh?"

>"You have sleepies-picture leggies," you hear a Lady Hoomin say.

>"Haaha! Hey, that's a good one. Yeah, Bandit! Bad sleepies-picture leggies."

>"Your old leggies hate you sooo much, they send their bad sleepies pictures to visit you."

>"Huuuuuhuhuuuu! Wy weggies be meanies? Wuv weggies! Nu be meanies, weggies!"

>"Nope, your leggies left because you're such a bad fluffy. They don't want to be with a meanie fluffy who steals milk and hurts foals."

>"Huuhuuu... Fwuffy sowwy... Fwuffy nu huwt babbehs nu mowe... Fwuffy be gud... jus wan weggies..."

>"We-e-e-e-ll..." says the Lady Hoomin, "maybe, if you were really really super good... your leggies might think about coming back for a visit."

>"Weggies... bisit... Fwuffy?"

>"Yeah! I mean, they might not want to carry you around or anything, and you'd have to do everything your leggies told you..."

>"Fwuffy du wat weggies teww! Fwuffy be gud fwuffy! Du watefah!"

>For some reason, the two hoomins seem to be laughing.
>You hear them whispering and giggling.
>They must be happy that your leggies want to visit.

>"Let me see if your leggies are answering the Leggie-Phone!" says the Mister. He goes away.

>"Hahahnffftblort!" says the Lady.

>You hear the Mister's voice from another room.

>"Hello? Is that Bandit's leggies? Ah yes, it's good to speak to you. Would you consider coming back to visit Bandit? Only if he's a good fluffy, hmm? And — you want him to do what? I... I see. Anything else? Well, that's most unusual... but I'll let him know..."

>The Mister comes back.

>"You're in luck, Bandit! Your leggies say they'll come and visit you, but you have to obey their instructions exactly.

>"Huuh?"

>"Bandit do what leggies want."

>"Otay!"

>"Okay, well, the first thing you have to do is make sure that the milk you're giving the foals is really good milk."

>"Hao Bandit du dat?"

>"Well, we'll put a sucky thing on your milky place, and you drink some of the milk."

>"Buh... buh... Bandit nu wan du dat! Nu wan dwink miwkies fwom own miwkie-pwace! Dat yikkie!"

>"Oh, okay then. I guess you don't want your leggies after all."

>"Nuuu! Bandit wan weggies! Bandit wan weggies!"

>"Then you'll have to drink your own milkies."

>"Buh... Bandit... Bandit twy..?"

>Laughing, the hoomins put something on one of your milkie-places.
>They make it squeeze and pull on you like a foal.
>They put a sucky tube in your mouth and tell you to drink.
>You suck up some of the milkies.
>It tastes sweet and good and exactly like the milk you used to steal from your herd's mares.
>You only manage a few swallows, huuhuuing all the time.

>"Huuhuuhuuu... *suk* Bandit nu wike! *suksuk* Bandit nu wanna dwink own miwkieeees! Huuuuhuuhuu..!"

>"Aww, but you make such good milkies, Bandit! You're such a good little mare."

>You sick up all your milkies and huuhuuhuu even harder.

>"Well, I guess we can tell your leggies you tried. Let's see what they say."

>The stallion-hoomin goes away, while the mare-hoomin cleans the sickie-wawas out of your fluff.
>Then the other hoomin comes back.
>"Well, your leggies weren't very pleased that you threw up, but they're going to give you another chance."

>"Nuffah... chawnce?"

>"Yeah, but THIS time you've got to promise to do your job perfectly, or they won't ever come back."

>"Bandit du jub! Bandit du jub!"

>"Okay, well, your leggies you're not quite good enough at being a milkbag. They say you make too much fuss all the time. They'll only come back if you can act happy when you're feeding foals."

>"Buh... buh Bandit nu AM happeh! Bandit nu wan be mawe! Nu wan be miwkbag!"
>You start huuhuuing again.
>"Be miwkbag is wowstes fing! Is poopies! Bandit hate fow be miwkbaa-haa-haag... uuhuuhuu..."

>"Well, that's what your leggies want."

>The mare-hoomin says: "Can't you even try to sound like you're happy?"

>"Yeah!" says the Mister Hoomin. "Instead of moaning and crying when you feed babies, tell them they're good babies and you want them to drink lots of milk. You know, the kinds of things that happy fluffy mummahs say."

>"Wike... mummah..?"

>"You know. 'Mummah loves you, babies, you're good babies, drink milkies so you can grow up big and strong...' That kind of thing."

>"Buh Bandit nu am mummah!"

>"Well, instead of "Mummah", say "Milkbag."

>"Yeah. Like 'Milkbag loves giving milkies, Milkbag has lots of milkies for good babies...'"

>"Huuuu! Muh... Miwkbag... *hic* Miwkbag wuv babbehs... huuhuu... Miwkbag... gut... *hic* wotsa... miwkies... buuuuUUHUUUUHUUHUUU! NU WANNA BE MIWKBAAAAAG!"
>You just can't keep from bawling. You're so miserable.

>"Oh, that was terrible. Come on, try again. This time without the huuhuus. And try to smile."

>You try to stop making saddies, try to think of how good it will be to have your leggies back.

>"Band — Miwkbag wuv... Miwkbag wuv babbehs. *hic* Miwkbag... gut... Miwkbag gut wotsa gud... *hic* muh-miwkies... fow... gud... babbehs..."

>The hoomins have you practice your lines over and over again.
>Finally, you manage to say "Miwkbag gut wotsa miwkies" without huuhuuing
>Or making sickies again.

>The hoomins tell you that your leggies have come back.
>They take the thingy off your eyesies.
>"Weggies! Weggies am back! Wun, weggies, wun way fwom bad hoomins..."

>"Now, now, Milkbag. We told you — your leggies still think you're a bad fluffy."

>"Yeah — they aren't going to carry you anywhere."

>"And they're only visiting."

>"Mmm. If you don't do a good job of keeping the foals happy, they'll leave you again."

>"Nuuuu! Nu wan weggies weave! Pwease stah wif Fwuffy, weggies, pweasy-pwease..."

>"Well, let's see how you do with some foals, shall we? Norm, you've got the key. Could you get a couple of those knackered Fluffcker's foals from the cabinet? The ones that don't latch properly."

>The stallion-human goes away.
>When he comes back, he has two little foals.
>"Miwk!" says one.
>"Wub!" says the other.
>He puts them to your milkie places and they start to gum and knead at you.
>Funny, they don't seem to be sucking very hard...

>"Guh-gud babbehs... dwink miwkies... wotsa miwkies fow gud babbehs..."

>"Who's got lots of milkies?"

>"Muh... muh... Miwkbag gut... wotsa miwkies... fow... babbehs..."

>"Smile! You're a happy milkbag, remember?"

>You force your mouthie to make a pretend smile and try again.

>"Miwkbag... wuv... babbehs... gud babbehs... dwink miwkies... Miwkbag gut... gut wotsa miwkies..."

>"Okay. Now, can you coo and sing like a happy fluffy mummah?"

>"Fwuffy... fwuffy nu knoh mummah song..."

>"Well, do the best you can."

>"*coooo* Gud babbehs... *cooo* *coo* dwink miwkies..."

>"Yeah, that is... well, it's terrible, but I guess the foals won't mind."

>"Okay, if he looks after those without trying to harm them, we can tell the day shift to leave the restraints off."

>"Sure. They should probably be told about the deal with the leggies."

>"Oh sure. Wouldn't want to annoy the leggies."

>"There's just one more thing I want to add..." says the mare-hoomin thoughtfully.

>Something happens to your mane.
>It doesn't hurt or make anything go away, so you ignore it.

>"Perfect."

***

>The day shift finds you lying exhausted in your pen
>Your weak, wobbly leggies still refusing to support you
>The two strange foals still gumming your milkie places...
>Funny how they still feel full.
>The strange foals are taken away
>And the hoomins turn you tummy-up
>Prop you up with those funny shiny pillows that make wawa go way
>And two more chirpy babies are put on your tummy to feed.
>"Gud babbehs," you mumble. "Dwink wotsa miwkies." It's automatic now.
>"Miwkbag wuvs yu... *coo* *coo* Miwkbag wuvs gud babbehs..."

>You hear two of the daytime hoomins talking about you.

>"Well, he seems to be placid enough..."

>"Sure, and he doesn't have the muscle to kick them or anything. Look, he can barely move his legs."

>"Be easier to care for if we don't have to mess about with the restraints..."

>"True."

>"The hairbow's a bit much, if you ask me."

>"Dude. Three litters. That we know of."

>"Point. Yeah, fuck this guy."

>"Miwkbag gut wotsa miwkies fow babbehs..." you find yourself burbling.
>"Miwkbag gut wots an wotsa gud miwkies fow gud babbehs... *coooo*"
>You're too tired to talk, really
>But you're not sure you know how to stop.

***