Contagion - Side project 1 - Baldies

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.

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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 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?