Bandit's New Job - 4

FractalFluff, March 4, 2014; 17:02 / FB 18807
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(Abuse-kinda, some fluffy misery, mostly hugbox.)

BANDIT'S NEW JOB, pt 4.

>"Huuhuuhuu... pwease, teefy babbehs... Miwkbag nu am nummehs... nu num Miwkbag... huuhuu..."

>Be an operative at the Nyu Fwenz fluffy shelter.
>Be helping to process the latest intake.
>A large extended family
>Almost a herd
>But domestics rather than ferals.
>Owner's car came off the road in the heavy rains you've had recently.
>Fluffy clan had been running all over her house for days.
>Flooding is the one of the best things that could happen to it now.
>The second-best would be for the flood to dry up and the house to burn down.
>Your preferred solution would be a tactical nuclear strike.

>Along with your colleague, Norm, you're checking the fluffies over, giving them their flea-and-ponysite baths, recording details from tags and chips.
>Most of these have neither.
>Only three adults are chipped, meaning you have no medical information for the others.
>Owner must have been a right noodle.

>As you work, you're accompanied by the soothing music of Bandit's sobs.
>The first ever male milkbag was a foal-killer and a milk-bandit before Nyu Fwenz got to him
>He's known to have wiped out multiple litters of foals, just to steal their mothers' milk.
>The shelter is officially no-kill and humane, and Bandit was healthy
>So putting him down wasn't an option.
>But nobody said anything about putting him in restraints
>Shooting him full of hormones
>And using him to answer the question: "can male fluffies be induced to lactate?"
>The answer was Yes.

>"Huuhuuhuuu... owwies... pwease, teefy babbehs, nu use teefies on Miwkbag!"

>Well, nobody said the fluffy had to likeit.
>Theoretically you could get in trouble
>Practically, nobody cares about shelter fluffies except the shelter's backers
>But those PonyCare folks don't like milk-bandits either.
>Any visitor would just see a weary surrogate mother dealing with a couple of teething weanlings.
>Bandit's hormone-shrunken junk is lost in his fluff.

>You finish the examinations, and put the new fluffies in their temporary homes.
>There are three dams.
>You place them in the Mummah Pen along with their attendants
>They can get aquainted with their fellow mothers-to-be.
>Two are still mobile
>One's about to pop
>Something her downtrodden attendents aren't allowed to forget.

>"Mawchpane wan make poopies! Woww Mawchpane tu dah wittabawks!"
>"Mawchpane wan pway! Woww Mawchpane tu toysies!"
>"Wowwy-fwens tuu swow! Mummah tewwin Big Wed! Oo get owwies fwom Big Wed!"
>Jeeze, the voice on the thing.
>"Mawchpane wan nummies! Nu DEMS nummies, SKETTIE nummies!"

>"The heck is a Mulchpane?" you ask Norm.
>"'Marchpane', I think. Old word for marzipan."
>The thing is yellow with a white mane, so maybe.
>You shrug.

>"Mawchpane gonna be Mummah, nee bestes nummies! Nu wan kibbew, wan BESTES nummies!"
>"Mawchpane nu wan dese toysies. Wan BETTAH toysies!"
Wan dat baww! Oo nu pway wif dat, gif

>You and Norm go about your duties in the shelter.
>You're vaguely aware of regular outbursts of nagging and whining from the obnoxious Marchpane
>But don't think much of it.
>Senior mares tend to get impossible when they're too big to move.
>Besides, you're too busy to care.

>You remove the "teefy babbehs" from the tearful Bandit.
>"These guys are pretty much done with milk," you tell Norm.

>"So are their littermates," he agrees.

>"Huuhuu... Miwkbag gud miwkbag, gif gud miwkies tu babbehs..." blathers the stallion.

>"Good news, Bandit. Four less foals for you to feed!"

>Bandit weeps with relief.
>He daren't make too much fuss, though.
>Norm's been pulling some horrific mental shit on him
>Now Bandit sincerely believes that he's on "Leggie Probabtion".
>If he isn't a good and eager baby-feeder, he's convinced that his legs will desert him.
>You feel a little bad
>But then you think of the foals you found stomped to death...

>Lunchtime.
All the fluffies get plenty of bland kibble to keep them going
>But a few times a day, there's some fruit and veg too.
>All the fluffies go crazy for carrot-sticks, grapes, and apple slices.
>Except Marchpane.

>"Mawchpane gonna be Mummah! Mummah nee BESTES nummies fow babbehs! BESTES!"
>An attendant tries to placate her with grapes
>Gets bitten for her pains.
>"Mawchpane wan SKETTIES. Oo get sketties NAO!"

>"Buh... buh Mawchpane..." says one of the attendants, "nufwuffy haf sketties hewe..."

>Marchpane swipes at her with one useless leg.
>"Den get BIKKIT, dummeh! Mummah wan gud nummies! Oo get NAO!"

>The "rolly-friends" are crying.
>Some of the other fluffy-mummahs are starting to sob too.
>"Okay," says Norm, "That's it."
>He lifts her out of the huu-huu-ing crowd.
>"You're getting a time-out, young lady. No making the other fluffies cry."
>Moves her to an empty pen, sets her up with water, toys and food.
>"Wan sketties, dummeh hoomin!"
>He boops her nose.
>Not hard, but she's furious.
>The outraged fluffy flails her stubby limbs and squeals imprecations.
>Norm ignores her.
>Can't work here if you don't learn to tune out bratty fluffies.

>So it's a while before either of you pick up on some important developments.

>One: She's been steadily raising both pitch and volume for some time.

>Two: Most of the other fluffies have gone quiet
>They've stopped what they're doing to watch her.

>And three...

>"Lyle's out!" shouts Norm.

>"Aww, crap, again? How does he even do that?"

>You've been searching for several minutes before either of you clock where Lyle is.
>He's somehow got into the dam's pen.
>Unusually for Lyle, he doesn't seem to be swearing at her or flicking her ears and nose.
>Instead, he's hugging her.
>Well, he's got his forelegs spread out along her side.
>And instead of his usual high-volume stream of profanity
>He's talking to her in a soft and reassuring tone.
>It's not helping.

>"It otay, pwetty mawe, it otay, Mummah gotta be cawm nao, Mummah gotta be nice an cawm fow babbehs..."

>"...AN WAN SKETTIES AN WAN BIKKITS WIF CHOKKITCHIPS AN WAN SWEETIE NUMMIES AN WAN ICECWEAM AN NU WAN SHAWE WIF BAD FWUFFIES..!"

>"Dewe dewe, fwuffy mummah, guuuud fwuffy mummah, nu hafta be woud, nu hafta haf angwies, shh, shhhh..."

>"...MAWCHPANE BESTES MUMMAH AN GET BESTES TOYSIES AN BESTES NUMMEHS, OW MAWCHPANE GONNA TEWW BIG WED 'BOUT BAD FWUFFIES, AN..."

>"It otay, fwuffy mummah, it ohhhtay, yu gonna haf wotsa toysies, wotsa sketties, shhh, shhh..."

>Lyle's soothing reassurances are taking on a more and more frantic tone.

>You wonder what's up.
>He's not normally bothered by angry fluffies
>In fact, he's the maestro when it comes to trolling IRL.
>But he seems to really need her to calm down...
>You shoot Norm a puzzled look.
>He shrugs, as perplexed as you are.

>Something is nagging at you, though.
>Something about fluffy dams...

>"...AN GONNA BOOP OO NOSIES AN GIF SOWWIES AN GIF BITIES AN OO NU MOWE HAF TOYSIES AN NU MOWE CAN SWEEP INNA FWUFF-PIWES AN BIG WED GONNA..."

>There's a strange gurgling noise coing from somewhere.

>"Pwease, fwuffy mummah!" Lyle is saying.
>"Evwytin otay! Yu gots to cawm daon! Fink uf yu babbehs! Nu haf angwys, shh, shh, shh...!"

>"...AN OO GONNA GO WAY INNA WUBBISHES AN GU FAW WAY WIF FOXIE MUNSTAHS AN WAT MUNSTAHS AN OO GONNA HAF BITIES AN SADDIES AN TUMMEH OWWIES AN OO GONNA — GONNA — GONNA — eeeEEEEEEE..!"

>The thin whine travels up the octaves as Lyle hugs tighter and babbles reassurances ever-faster.
>The mare seems to be almost vibrating...

>"...EEEEEEEEEEEE..."

>There's a loud *POMF* sound.
>The dam has vanished.
>Lyle is sitting in the pen, covered in scraps of yellow fluff
>Tufts of yellow are drifting down around him like snow.
>Four tiny, brilliantly-coloured foals wiggle on their tummies, making anxious peeping sounds.
>There's a fifth baby on top of his head
>Belly-up in his shock of scarlet mane-hair.

>"Weww, Wywe twied!" he says resignedly.
>"Yu aww saw Wywe twy!"

>"Peep?"

***

>The foals take well to Jemmy
>A childless mare who handles the TLC side of fostering.
>As for the other aspect...

>"Good news, Bandit! Remember the four teethy babies who don't need milkies anymore?"

>"...Uh huh...?"

>"Well, now there are FIVE brand new babies for you to feed!"

>"Huuhuu... M-Miwkbag... Miwkbag happeh... huuhuuhuuu... Miwkbag su happeh... Buuuuhuuhuuhuu..!"

***