Ichi - Black Spots

>You are Raleigh, co-manager of the fluffy shelter Flufftasia.
>And no, you’re not the one who chose the name of the shelter. Blame your friend and colleague  Robin for that.
>You like working at the shelter. Fluffies are cute and usually polite, and you and Robin do your best to keep them reasonably cleaned, well fed, and to train them on how to use their litterbox.
>Many of them get adopted and go to (what you hope are) good families.
>Other fluffies are not so lucky. Last month eight of them had to be put down: five of them – a mare, a stallion and their three foals – due to an advanced case of fluff rot, one hyperactive pegasus that broke three of her legs by jumping out of her open cage when you were giving her and her cagemate dinner, and the last two… well, they were what you and Robin usually call “black spots”.
>It could’ve been worse, though. The euthanized fluffies could have been nine.
>While opening the door of the shelter you make a little smile, thinking about Frank. Him adopting Ichi was one of the kindest things you’ve seen since you started working there, and, well… he’s kinda cute. Maybe you even like him a bit.
>He certainly likes you, though. And your tits.
>“Heya, RL!”, Robin greets you from behind the counter. His black hair seems spikier than ever, this morning.
>“RB”, you reply, waving a hand in his direction. “Any news?”.
>He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Well… Leaf seems ready to pop up. Probably this afternoon”.
>“Uh, great…”. Leaf is a forest green unicorn mare that was brought to you a week ago. A kindergarten teacher found her in the school garden and brought her to you. From what you could gleam from the fluffy’s semi-coherent babbling, she had been raped by a feral stallion while she was searching for food for her herd, and she had been so traumatized by the event that she couldn’t remember where her friends were and just wandered aimlessly for two weeks before becoming too bloated to move by herself. “Do you think she’ll… I mean, will she take care of the litter?”.
>“Dunno”, Robin replies. “She does keep repeating to herself that the mean stallion touched her special place and hurt her tummy, so let’s just hope she doesn’t connect the two things…”. He grins like a cat. “And speaking of connecting, how are things going between you and Prince Charming, savior of blind fluffy ponies everywhere? Have you already asked him if he has a gay brother?”.
>You gave Robin a look of fake disapproval. “Really? You’re really going with the ‘all gays are promiscuous’ stereotype? Wait until I tell Andy…”.
>His smirk widens. “Oh, come on, RL, I was joking! You know I’m…”.
>Robin’s interrupted by a sudden noise from the nursery room. It’s a strange, unsettling mix between a wail and a growl. “OWWIES!”, you then hear Leaf exclaiming. And the pain in her voice is so tangible that you instinctively bring a hand to your belly. “WEAF HAF OWWIE POOPIES!”.
>The nursery of the Flufftasia is a small, cosy room with pastel-colored walls and large, comfortable cages, only one of which is currently occupied; Leaf is trembling, waving her stubby legs and opening and closing her mouth in shock. When she sees the two of you, she lets out another wail-growl that sends a long shiver down your spine. “HEWP WEAF!”, she screams in panic. “WEAF TUMMY HUWTY! NO WAN! MAKE HUWT GO ‘WAY!”.
>Robin looks at you: suddenly, he’s dead serious. “I’ll help her. You know what to do”.
>You nod, and start collecting everything that could be useful: a soft cloth, warm water, a baby bottle, fluffy milk formula… And hoping you won’t need any of this.
>Luckily, at least the delivery is quick; fifteen minutes later, Leaf squeezes out four foals, one after another: a light green unicorn filly with a white mane, a steel blue earth colt, a dark green unicorn filly with a purple mane and a grey pegasus colt.
>Robin shows the baby earth fluffy to the mare. Leaf sniffs him, then licks him clean in complete silence; the same scene repeats for the two fillies, and you start feeling relieved.
>But then Robin shows her the grey pegasus, and Leaf’s eyes are suddenly filled with terror. “N-NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! BAD FWUFFY, BAD FWUFFY! WEAF NO WAN’!”. And then, instead of cleaning him, she tries to bite his head off.
>Robin, however, is faster than her, and takes the foal out of her reach, while you frantically scoop up the other babies. Leaf has gone crazy, and even tries to bite your co-worker’s hand in her frenzy, while shouting: “BAD BAHBES! WEAF NO WAN’! BAD FWUFFY GIF BAD BAHBES!”.
>You stare at her in shock, the three foals in your hands mewling and crying at the strange, loud noise.
>This totally looks like a black spot.

>“…and unfortunately none of the other dams at the shelter can take care of four extra babies”, you finish explaining. Frank is sitting next to you on his sofa, and Ichi is asleep onto your lap, muttering cute nonsense from time to time. “So me and Robin are taking turns in feeding them”.
>Frank scratches his shaved head. He looks embarrassed for some reason. “Oh. Um… I d-don’t know if I can take care of four newborn foals… I mean, with Ichi and…”.
>“Oh, no, no!”, you interrupt him, trying your best not to laugh. “I didn’t mean to ask you that! Oh, Frank, you’re so kind!”. You then lower your eyes on Ichi and pet him softly on the head. He snorts and curls in a fluffy ball of cuteness. “It’s that… I guess I just needed to tell it to someone”. You sigh, and keep scratching the blind pony behind his ears. “I mean, since I’ve started working at the shelter, I’ve seen hundreds of dams… And each and every one of them loved her babies unconditionally. For them, their babies were the most important thing ever, their whole world. And Leaf, she… she tried to kill one of her newborns. And this scared me, Frank”.
>“Because she’s a…”. He glances at Ichi and lowers his voice before uttering the next two words. “…bad fluffy?”.
>You shake your head. “No. Because she must’ve been completely broken by the rape, for her maternal instinct to be obliterated. Fluffies are so simple, and at the same time so fragile…”. You sigh. “I hope she really doesn’t turn out to be a black spot”.
>“A what?”.
>“That’s how me and Robin call the unrecoverable fluffies. Those who are too messed up inside to be adopted. We, well… we put them down, as humanely as possible. But this would be the first time we’ll have to euthanize a fluffy mumma for hurting their babies”. You probably look miserable right now, but luckily Ichi bails you out, opening his blind eyes and asking: “Wha’? Who say mumma?”.
>You scratch him again behind his ears. “Sorry, Ichi, didn’t mean to wake you up”.
>He hugs your leg in response. “Wawey! Stiww at Ichi house? Pway wiff Ichi?”
>You smile. “Why not?”. You sit on the ground and help Ichi nosing his ball around. Despite his disability he doesn’t bump into things that often.
>“Why say mumma, Wawey?”, he suddenly asks a couple of minutes later.
>He still remembers? You thought that he forgot about it, especially considering how weak a fluffy’s short-term memory is. Or long-term memory, for all that matters. “I was… talking about a fluffy mumma with your daddy, Ichi. A fluffy mumma that just had her babies”.
>The blind fluffy lights up instantly. “Bahbes? Whev’ bahbes? Wan’ pway wiff bahbes, keep bahbes wawm an’ happy!”.
>You look at Frank. “See? That’s what I was talking about… Fluffies totally love babies”.
>“Wuv bahbes!”, Ichi dutifully replies. “Bahbes nee’ wuv, nee’ miwkies! Nee’ become stwong an’ heawty fwuffies! Can Ichi hewp bahbes, Wawey?”
>“Unfortunately, the babies are at the shelter, Ichi…”.
>Your answer makes Ichi look so sad you’re afraid he’ll start crying. “Nu wan go to shewtew ‘gain… Wossa meanie fwuffies dere”.
>Five minutes later, Ichi has grown tired of playing with his balls and asks politely for his fluffy daddy. You put the fluffy in his playpen with his plush and go to Frank’s kitchen for a cup of coffee.
>“So… What do you and Robin plan on doing with the babies?”, he asks while putting the coffee pot on the stove. “Oh, by the way, and have you already named them?”.
>“Yeah”, you smirk. “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. Robin’s idea, obviously. And I think he plans on trying to reintroduce the babies to Leaf… well, except for Thyme, he’s already being nursed by another mare. He was the one causing Leaf to go batshit crazy, after all”.
>You and Frank talk for another half an hour, before you realize it’s almost time to go feeding the three newborn foals. “See you soon, okay?”, you tell him, before kissing him on the cheek.
>He babbles something unintelligible, like your kiss turned him into a fluffy pony. You smile, teasing him a little bit more, then go say goodbye to Ichi. “Be a good fluffy, ‘kay?”, you tell him, scratching him behind the ears.
>“Ichi be gud!”. He then lowers his ears a bit, something he usually does whenever he wants to ask something. “Wawey, can bahbes come to Ichi house? Haff pwaydate wiff Ichi?”.
>“Since I explained him the concept of playdate he has been asking me about having one”, Frank explains. He picks up his fluffy up and pets his belly. “Babies are too little to play with, Ichi. What about having a playdate with your daddy?”.
>Ichi cheers, waving his stubby front legs in a silly dance. “Yay! Ichi wuv pway wiff dahdeh!”.
>Before leaving, you look at them one last time. And hope that Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme will live enough to feel as much loved and happy as Ichi is.

>“Do you… really think we should do it?”, you ask, looking at Sage, Rosemary and Parsley waddling around and hugging each other in the small playpen. At their fourth day of life, they’ve finally started walking; they’re playful and lively as any other well-fed fluffy of their age, but there’s something really important they lack: a mommy. Every now and then, they ask you, Robin or each other for “mumma?”, even if they haven’t seen her once in their very short life.
>Robin scratches his forehead. “Well, we at least have to try. Leaf seems more depressed than ever now”. She’s still in the nursery, all by herself; you moved the other pregnant and nursing mummas in the storage room because you were afraid she could’ve become a difficult case… And you were right.
>But she’s actually asked for her babies many times since you took them away. Yes, she used that creepy monotone voice that creeps you out so much and didn’t actually do anything in the past three days except for lying in her cage and talking to herself from time to time… But you and Robin thought she could deserve at least a second chance, before being labelled as a black spot.
>You pick up the three foals: they hug your fingers tightly, babbling about “huggies” and “wuv”. “Awww, they’re adorable…”, you whisper, looking at Parsley trying to suck your thumb for milk.
>Robin nods. “I agree. I really hope this works, RL. It wouldn’t feel… right to separate them. I mean, we’ve already had to give Thyme to Wendy”. Wendy is a young dark pink unicorn mare; one of her three babies recently died, so she was more than happy to adopt a new one.
>You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this”.
>When you enter the nursery, Leaf just lift her head slightly. “Babies…”, she whispers, her voice raspy and hoarse.
>You give her the best smile you can. “Yes, these are your babies! And you will be good with them, right, Leaf? They need milk, and huggies, and love! The love only a good mumma can give them”.
>She manages to nod. “B-babhes… Babhes nee’ wuv…”. She pathetically point her forelegs towards you, and keep repeating in her unsettling, monotone voice. “Pwease… gif bahbes… babhes nee’ mumma… pwease… bahbes…”.
>You look at Robin, and he nods and opens the cage. You carefully pluck Parsley from your thumb and lowers her so Leaf can take a good sniff at her. “Gud bahbe…”, she murmurs, and then let you latch her to one of her swollen teats. “Haf miwk…”.
>You repeat the process for another two times. A complete success, apparently. You have to help Leaf at first, because she’s a two-teat fluffy and so she has to rotate her babies so they can have enough milk, but she seems to get the hang of it pretty quickly.  “M-mumma wuv gud bahbes…”, you hear her whispering to Rosemary, who’s the one without a teat to suckle and is babbling tenderly in her mother’s embrace.
>“We… we did it?”, you tentatively ask to Robin while he’s closing the cage door.
>“I think we should take turns watching her and the babies at least for today, but… she seems fine. Except for her voice, but I guess she’ll overcome the shock with the help of the babies”. Robin sighs. “Let’s hope this works out fine”.

>It happened less than three hours later.
>You were busy serving a customer, and Robin – who was watching Leaf feeding her babies – decided it could have been good for Leaf to have at least another mumma around, so he left her unattended for maybe a minute.
>When he came back from the storage room with the cage of Lychee – a talkative, happy-go-lucky red pegasus with two bright orange colts – it was already too late.
>He nearly dropped Lychee’s cage, and managed to put it onto a table before darting towards Leaf.
>There was blood everywhere. Rosemary was on the cage floor, broken; her head had been stuck between to cage bars, her dead eyes wide open and full of terror. Sage was mewling pathetically in a corner, the left side of his body nothing more than a mush. And Leaf was towering over a terrorized Parsley, her mouth foaming and screaming “NU WAN’ BAD BAHBES! BAD BAHBES TAKE WONG SWEEPIES! WEAF WAN’ BE AWONE! STUPIT BAHBES GO ‘WAY!”.
>“God, how could I be so stupid?”. Two hours later, Robin sits slumped on the ground. Parsley is curled onto his lap, finally asleep. She’s unharmed, but the shock turned her catatonic for a while. You hope that her little fluffy brain will help her forget the traumatic experience quickly. “Why did I leave her alone?”.
>You sit next to him and put a hand on his arm. “Because we trust fluffies, RB. That’s why. We saw countless dams protecting their foals with their own lives, and we thought Leaf would have done the same. It’s not your fault”.
>Robin looks at you, his thin eyes heavy. “You mean she was the one to blame?”.
>You shake your head. “No. Maybe it was the stallion who raped her that sent her to the deep end, or maybe she was just born that way… I guess we’ll never know”. Robin is usually the one euthanizing the black spots, but this time you were the one who did it. It was quick, not worth narrating and – you can only hope – painless for Leaf.
>Despite her having killed two of her babies… you can’t bring yourself to hate her.
>“There are many people out there thinking that every fluffy is alike”, you continue. “That their behavior and reactions have been pre-programmed by their creators… And maybe that’s true, I don’t know. But even a computer program can evolve, so why not fluffies?”. You take a deep breath and gently pet Parsley with your index. She’s so tiny… And yet, she’s already lost her mother and two of her siblings. “My point is, RB, that we’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of different fluffies, you and I. And yeah, some of them have pretty standard reactions to things; but others don’t. Selfless smarty friends, pegasi afraid of heights, mares not wanting to be mothers… and mothers killing their babies instead of taking care of them”.
>“But what if those are just glitches?”, Robin replies. It took the both of you a good half an hour to calm Lychee and her foals down, and another hour to clean the whole mess. There’s still a large pink spot on the wall were the blood was. And Robin looked like someone being led to the electric chair the whole time: you’ve never seen him so down. “Random errors in their behavior?”.
>You shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe not. Who knows? The fluffies certainly don’t. But what I mean is: not every fluffy is alike. Some of them are different: some of them are better; and some others, well… they’re black spots”.
>Robin looks at you. He even manages to smile weakly. “Yeah, I… I guess that’s true. I mean, they’re like people, right? Some of them are good, some of them are bad”.
>“And God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him”, you quote from the Bible while getting up. Robin pretends to frown and you playfully stick your tongue out. “Oh, come on, that’s the point, isn’t it? Now come on, let’s find a mother for this cutie”.
>The mummas are busy cheering Lychee up when you open the door of the storage room. A cacophony of squeaky voices then asks you and Robin about “bad scawy mumma” and if her babies are in need for some huggies. When Robin explains that there were indeed a baby and that she needs more than just hugs, the mares fall suddenly silent, before explaining awkwardly that they possibly can’t take care of another babies. “No haf miwk ‘nuff fo’ anotha bahbe”, Lychee says curtly.
>But when you start thinking that you and Robin will have to nurse Parsley by yourselves, you feel a timid tugging on your arm: Wendy is looking at you with her big, gentle, green eyes. “W-Wendy can be mumma”, she says. “Wendy haf fouw miwk thingies, haf miwk ‘nuff fo’ bahbes to shawe”.
>You look at Thyme, nestled in Wendy’s fluff, and lower his sister so she can be with him. “You are a really good fluffy, Wendy”, you tell her, petting her on the head.
>She just nods, smiling at you. “Wendy no can weave bahbe. Bahbes Bahbes nee’ wuv, nee’ miwkies… Nee’ become stwong an’ heawty fwuffies. Wendy wuv hewp babhes”.
>And looking at her cooing gently at her new baby, you think that maybe you’re right. Not every fluffy is alike. Some of them are different.
>Some of them are black spots.
>But some of them are better.