Curse these Fluffy Ponies, they drive me to drink: Part 0

>Be a Worker at a Fluffy Pony Adoption Center.

>Well ... Worker is a bit of a stretch. You get paid minimum wage.

>Mostly a volunteer thing, truth be told. And they let you surf the web here, which is always a plus.

>Adoption Center puts down close to a hundred Fluffy Ponies every week.

>Horrible, horrible work, but it's quick, at least.

>Fluffies are taken into a sealed room, given their last meal, a big heap of cheap-ass home-brand spaghetti, then the door is locked, and the button pushed.

>Little contraption the 'Boss' rigged up. Drops poison pellets and scented oils into a modified 'Fogger'. Fluffies breathe the mist for about thirty seconds, giggling about 'Smells Pwetty!' then go to sleep.

>Get taken out to the old furnace and burned, 'Boss' takes them later and scatters them into the lake.

>Sometimes go out with him and give him some moral support.

>People are fucking assholes. Don't desex their pets, just throw them out when they're no longer small and cute, some even amputate the limbs off the Fluffy Ponies and try to bullshit you with how 'safe' their pets are.

>If only you weren't aiming for Police Clearance, you'd show them just how 'Safe' being an involuntary quadraplegic is!

>Fluffy Ponies are normally separated by Gender, but occasionally a Fluffy Stallion manages to get a leg-over before the New Additions can be separated. New Volunteer didn't know about the usual routine, left a mixed batch together.

>Fluffy Orgy. Poor bastard got enough static electricity zaps from trying to prise the Franticly Porking Ponies off each other his hair stood on end for the next hour.

>Two-Dozen Mares are in the final stages of their Bloat, or pregnancies, and had to be isolated from the Cages, so the other Fluffy Ponies didn't squash them or cause them to go into premature labour with 'Baybeh Comin' Soon' hugs.

>And sometimes .....

>"WAAAAH! Big Poopies! Hewp, hewp, no can weach poopie-box!" One of the Expecting Mothers squeals.

>Shit. Well, you're earing you $3.50 an hour today.

>Mother is a flourescent Blue Fluffy Pony with a paler blue mane, a Unicorn.

>So fat her legs are forced to stick out at odd angles.

>Must have been some thick blood in that Stallion!

>"Nnnnngh! Why tummeh huwt? Nu wan make Not-Pretties in Bed!" She whines as the muscles around her stomach ripple, and she endures another contraction.

>"Your babies are coming very soon, sweet-heart, very soon." You coo, patting her gently.

>Other Fluffy Pregnant Mares, or 'Fwuffy Mummas' in Poniese, all gasp and babble, legs flailing pointlessly in the air.

>"Ooooh, baybehs! Yuu haffin' mah baybehs?" "Wuv Baybehs! Why I nu haf Baybehs yet?"

>Finally, the contractions have the desired effect, and the first Foal squeezes out.

>Pick it up gently and deliver it to the mother's head, who rapidly hugs and cleans her Foal, delivering a non-stop stream of inane babble about 'Wuv', 'Hugs' and 'Nummehs' to her baby.

>Second and third Foals came out without a hitch .... same again, more sappy babbling. Mares only have two teats, but foals have a tendency to suckle for only a minute or so at a time. Should be fine....

>Other 'Fwuffy Mummas' are disappointed that they aren't getting the Babies.

>"Why nu gif Fwuffie mah baybehs?" One of the other heavily pregnant mares sniffles sadly. "I wan mah baybehs, make Meanie Fwiend gif!"

>"Oh, no, these Foals belong to this Mare. When you have babies, you'll go down just like ...." You stop explaining when the two-toned Blue Mare squeals one last time ... and a fourth Foal comes out.

>"Whe' baybeh?" She pants, exhaustedly, staring at you expectantly.

>"Right here." You say softly, lifting the newborn foal up to her head ... and her face crinkles up into a scowl.

>"Nu! Nu mah baybeh! Smeww nu pwetty! Bad Baybeh!" She whines, pushing at your hand that is holding the foal with one leg.

>"But ... it's your baby!" You say, trying to push it towards her.

>"Nu! Stinky Baybeh! Bad Baybeh! Nu wan!" She spits at you, puffing her cheeks out.

>Foal is trembling in your hands, either from the wet fluff or if it somehow understands it's mother is rejecting it, you don't know.

>Offer the Foal to some of the other Mares, who all scowl or puff up their cheeks.

>It's a Runt .... not that you can tell visually, all Fluffy Pony Foals are tiny when they first come out.

>Smells like mucus and wet fluff to you, same as the others ....

>Time for 'Saint Hedwig' then.

>Leave the Fluffy Mumma to nurse her Foals, babbling about "Nu miwk fo' Bad Baybehs, need aww miwk fo' Guud Baybehs! Guud Baybehs nu fiwt, Mumma haf miwk fo' yuu aww!"

>Take the Foal down the corridor of the Female Wing of the Adoption Center. It bawls loudly, going "N'aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!" as it shivers and shudders in the palm of your hand.

>Mares rush up to the wires, banging on the cage walls with hooves and heads and horns.

>"Baybeh? BAYBEH! Wan, pwease, wan!" They squeal and beg you, pushing their hooves through the wire.

>Some of the 'Long Term' residents glare, knowing full well it's a Runt. They also know not to give anyone any shit about it, or they get left in the cages when the Fluffy Ponies get their daily turn in the exercise field.

>Fluffy Ponies refuse to care for Runts unless they are specially trained, or are so terrified of being abused by their Owners they repress their instincts and take care of it.

>Could try to coat the newborn with some sort of scenting agent, but all you've got is Febreeze, which tends to make Fluffy Ponies break out into hives.

>So, time for 'Saint' Hedwig to save the day once again.

>She's lying in the back store-room, in a large, comfy dog-bed, surrounded by stuffed toys and soft plastic blocks. Whole affair is surrounded by snap-together walls to form a pen on the concrete floor.

>Looks up at you with a tired, smiling face.

>"Pwepawe fo' Impact?" She asks, her eyes focusing on you, then the tiny, mewling Foal in your hand. Three Foals of various ages play in the pen, one old enough to be desexed, the other two no more than a few days old.

>"Here you go, Hedwig. Another baby for you." You say, loudly, stepping over the walls of the pen and delivering the still-damp Foal.

>"Pwepawe fo' Impact!" She says happily, hugging the Foal gently to her chest and licking it eagerly. "Pwepawe fo' impact, pwepawe fo' impact!"

>Foal is nudged towards the nearest teat and begins to suckle eagerly.

>Other Foals shuffle over and give their Surrogate Mother hugs, and lick their new sibling as well.

>"Hewwo, wittah brudda." The oldest of the 'Runts' whispers softly, nudging the half-burried newbown with his muzzle. "We wuv yuu, we wuv yuu, nu cwy."

>"Wuv! Wuv!" The two slightly older Foals cheer, shuffling up to nuzzle Hedwig's remaining teats.

>"Pwepawe fo' Impact...." Hedwig sighs happily, smiling gently at you.

>'Saint' Hedwig is an 'abused' Mare dropped off at the Adoption Center by her owner, must have thought the volunteers that day were too stupid to notice the giant, mangled craters where her 'equipment' had been.

>'Boss' called the cops, who caught him with a terrabyte of Beastiality Movies on his hard-drive, all of him abusing the hell out of the Mare. Hope he is enjoying being on the recieving end in prison.

>Hedwig is unfortunately too unstable, unable to be given away to even the kindest owner, can only say 'Pwepawe fo' Impact', hates to be touched by Men and will scream and shiver and piss herself in fear if held by one.

>So the 'Boss' gets you to inject her with Bovine Hormone Treatments every three months, so she produces milk non-stop.

>He bought her toys, gave her a safe, quiet place to live, tells her every time he comes in, and every time he leaves, what a good, wonderful Fluffy Mumma she is.

>'Boss' feels bad that he can't physically touch her, so smothers her in gifts and treats.

>Add to the fact that Hedwig was so damaged by the abuse she'll never have Foals herself, the situation is possibly the best result the poor little Fluff-ball can have right now.

>Maybe because she was so desperate for Foals herself, you've never seen her reject a Runt yet. Or maybe she's just a Fluffy Pony who just loves Foals.

>Foals who are abandoned or rejected by their Mothers are brought to Hedwig to be fed and loved, and if no such foals are available, her milk is harvested and stored in case of an emergency.

>Runts sell quite well, actually, especially to People who are suckers for hard-luck stories. Almost every 'Runt' you've seen tends to be quite clingy, and very, very submissive. Great 'First Time' Fluffy Ponies for people who have never had one before.

>Great Pets for the Elderly, too. You know one Retirement Village who snaps up every Runt you can provide, because the 'Patients' enjoy having the Fluffy Ponies around as company, like leaving the TV on for noise.

>"Goodbye, Hedwig. You're a Wonderful Fluffy Mumma." You say as you walk out, closing the door behind you.

>"Pwepawe fo' Impact...." You hear her sigh before the door shuts.

>Some time passes.

>'Boss' comes back. Giant Black Man, ex Peace-Corps.

>Looks like he could bench-press King Kong.

>"I'll watch the counter. You get some food." He tells you, patting your shoulder.

>"Thanks 'Boss'. Oh, and Trixie had her Foals ... one was a Runt though." You say as you edge out from behind the table, avoiding 'Boss's bulk.

>"Huhhhhh. Saint Hedwig saves the day again." He rumbles, but smiles.

>Getting lunch out of the staff room when you hear the door open.

>"Hey, uhm ... looking to get some friends for my Little Guy here ... can I ask you a few questions?"

>Peer out the doorway.

>Jesus H Christ.

>Giant Fat Guy with a Neckbeard down to the middle of his chest!

>And a Rolly-Polly Fluffy Pony Stallion in his arms, waving at 'Boss'.

>"Ah, this the Little Guy?" 'Boss' asks, reaching forwards to boop the little White Stallion on the nose, who giggles and then waves all four legs at 'Boss'.

>"Yeah. Uhm ... Fluffy Ponies really don't explode when giving birth, or die after sex, right?" This Neckbearded Ogre asks, looking down at his Fluffy Pony nervously. "Kinda my first one ... found him abandoned in my front yard as a Foal. Didn't have the heart to let him just die, and he kinda grew on me."

>"Fucking Internet. No, they don't." 'Boss' replies, grinning. "Well, come on down, your Little Guy can pick out his new friends."

>Well .... looks like not everything hates Runts.

>"Hewwo! Oh, so many Fwiends! Daddy, I wewwy pick?" The Fluffy Pony asks loudly from the protection of his Owner's arms before the doors shut behind them.

>Maybe you'll have a chance to finish this sandwich, and then ......

>"Waaaaaaaah! Big Poopies! Why tummeh huwt!" Somebody cries for the maternity ward.

>Duty calls.

>And if there's a Runt, well, Hedwig's there to pick up the slack.

>Follow after the Neckbearded Owner and his Fluffy into the Female Wing of the adoption agency and sit by one of the remaining 'Fwuffy Mummas' as she starts to go into labour.

>"Who dat?" The 'Trixie' Mare from before asks, her three foals feeding noisily from her teats. "Why he haf Daddy, an' I don'?"

>"Well ... he's a 'Bad Baby'." You say, feeling particularly irritable towards this Mare. "Like the one you didn't want. And the Daddy is picking friends for his Runt, friends who love Fluffy Ponies, even if they're small or smell funny."

>"Buh .... buh ...." The Blue Mare babbles, staring with wide eyes at the White Earth Fluffy who is waving furiously at the Females in the Cages, who are all waving back and asking who he is.

>"G-gif baybeh back!" The Mare finally manages to say, shaking hard enough to make her remaining Foals complain with little squeaks. "If Bad Baybeh get Daddy, wan' Baybeh back so Fwuffie get Daddy too!"

>"Nope. He's with a Good Fluffy now, who will love him and care for him, even if he is a Runt." You turn around and fix the Blue Mare with a glare. "You didn't want him, so he went to a Mother who did."

>The Blue mare sobs and lays her head down as her Foals feed mercilessly from her teats. "Buh ... is Bad Baybeh? Buh Hoomins wuv Bad Baybeh, even if smeww bad? Why nu wuv Fwuffie den, bettah than Bad Baybeh, wite?"

>"Yes. Maybe you should all think about that, hmmmm." You say loudly, addressing all the Fluffy Mummas.

>Some look worried.

>Most just fuss and whine that they miss running, when will their bellies go away.

>When will Babies come.

>How long till Nummies Time.

>Maybe some of them will buck the trend and keep their Runts.

>And, if not, 'Saint' Hedwig will be there to pick up the slack.