At the start of another beautiful day, Dr. Erwin Stahlberg arrives at his branch of the Faucheuse Foundation.
Asimov and Hershey are at Happy Fluffy Daycare, where Asimov is showing off some of the many gadgets Erwin built into him.
The harmless gadgets, that is. The bubble blower is a big hit.
As Erwin walks the lobby, he sees Gilda, womanning the reception counter, talking to Mark. He waves at them as he passes through, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.
Although Erwin is happy to see Gilda back at work. He may have been harsh with her, all the way back when she was still married to Scott, that fateful day they brought Glitter in for an examination, but Gilda’s come a long way since then.
Of course, several heapings of humble pie helped things along.
Jewel and her litter are still at the Foundation, by the way. Being closely monitored, in case her progeny show any signs of their father’s power of persuasion.
Erwin barely gets a chance to sit down in his examination room when his first patient of the day is brought in, by Victor and Scarface.
Victor carefully carries a crying foal into the room with one hand, stroking his fluff with the other.
“It’s okay, buddy, you’re safe now.”
“What happened, Victor?”
“This little guy’s from a herd in San Francisco. The sole survivor.”
“It bweak Scawface heawt.”
“Mine too, Soul Brother.”
“Let’s get him on the Stahlskanner.”
So Victor does exactly that.
bzzz
“Ah. A minor case of constipation, but that’s all. Other than a laxative, he just needs the Standard Package.”
So Erwin calls Sasha in to get the foal a bath.
After Sasha’s gone to the bathing room with the foal, Erwin sighs.
“Was this another abuser, Vic?”
“Nope. Little V’s taken a big bite out of San Fran’s abuser population.”
“We fink it am da udda wun. Caw-nage.”
Victor gestures towards the door.
“According to that poor little dude’s description, the killer was a fluffy covered in red slime. Apparently, the killer dragged one of the little dude’s siblings off, so she’s probably dead too.”
“And there’s still no sign of Carnage?”
“Little V is searching the city, and so is Jake. There’s been incidents like this all over San Fran lately.”
“Well, when we find Carnage, Valerie’s got a few sonic cannons ready.”
“Heh, yeah, the little bastard’s in for a surprise. We’ve gotta get going, Erwin.”
“May I ask where you’re going, Vic?”
“Well, Scarface has a playdate at Pierre’s cabin, and I’ve got a playdate with a fluffy pimp in Detroit.”
“Victow am gunna haf mowe fun den Scawface, Scawface fink.”
“Sorry, Soul Brother. But Pierre doesn’t want Nikola and Audrey watching crime movies.”
Scarface shrugs.
“Dey woss.”
So Victor and Scarface depart for their respective playdates, and Erwin gets his examination room ready for his next patient.
He’s put white gloves on the mechanic arms, for no reason other than that he thought it would be funny.
Helen Jackson, wife of Commissioner John Jackson, enters, carrying one of Flufftopia’s luxury carriers.
Helen’s a rather handsome woman, with a Wagnerian physique and an impressive mountain of red hair. Despite her wealth, she’s dressed rather casually.
She places the carrier on a table and opens it, and an alicorn stallion trots out as gracefully as a fluffy can muster.
Black fluff, flecked with gold, a gold mane and tail, and purple eyes.
“Just want to make sure Maximilian here is healthy before I introduce him to the mares, my good man.”
Helen’s hobby is breeding upscale fluffies for wealthy ladies like herself. The kind of ladies who insist on calling a fluffy’s fluff their coat. Of course, the fluffies she breeds are all treated well.
John didn’t marry Helen for her money, but for her heart. Their cherished only child, Johnny, was born shortly before Helen went into menopause, and the birth was a difficult one.
“Maxie wiww be gen-tuw wif dem.”
Helen chuckles in a rather jolly manner.
“Oh yes, my good friend Cassandra told me about a rather… rambunctious stallion she dealt with. He sired some good foals, but he just couldn’t play nice with the mares. It didn’t end well for him.”
“Stawwions wike dat make aww stawwions wook bad.”
Erwin carefully lifts Maximilian onto the Stahlskanner.
ping!
“Kerngesund, Frau Jackson.”
“Danke sehr, Erwin. Yes, I speak German. My family used to be very close with the von Drachens, y’know. Of course, we’re always happy to have Cecil and Eddy over for dinner. Haven’t seen Eddy around lately, though. Cecil says he’s on a leave of absence.”
“Edward is on Magicca, Frau Jackson. He’s staying there until he finds Shannon.”
“I used to know her, actually. Before she vanished. Me and John entertained Cecil and Shannon over dinner and drinks a lot. I still can’t believe she’s a dragon! I’ve always had a passion for dragons, y’know. They’re such beautiful creatures, but when I was a little girl, I never thought they’d actually be real.”
“Well, if you want to go dragon-watching, I suggest you do it in Drakonia. You can go via the Inn Between Worlds. It’ll be safer there, the dragons on the other side are a lot more reasonable.”
“Thank you for the advice, Erwin! But we must be off. Maximilian, say goodbye to the nice doctor.”
“Bai bai, mistah dok-tow. Fanks fow habin Maxie.”
“It’s been a pleasure.”
Erwin sends them on their way, Maximilian happily numming a skettie treat.
A lot more elegantly than most fluffies num.
After Erwin summons the mechanical arms once more, Erwin’s next patient is wheeled in by Rosa, and the fluffy’s owner, a pretty young woman with her long hair dyed green, follows Rosa inside with a frantic look on her face.
Erwin eyes the pegasus stallion on the cart, white and brown, sobbing and writhing in pain from his four broken legs, and Erwin is experienced enough to recognise the cause on sight.
“Let me guess: he jumped off the kitchen table?”
The owner solemnly nods.
“I told Pit to stay put on the table, but he kept insisting that he could fly.”
“Huu… Pit am fin-isht… huu… Pit neba weawned how tu weed… huu…”
Rosa shakes her head in disbelief as she leaves.
“Si tuviera un dólar…”
But Erwin tries to reassure Pit and his owner.
“Worry not, a few hours in a regen vat and Pit will be right as rain. We deal with this all the time, believe me.”
So Erwin places Pit in a vat, and the owner anxiously watches it fill with fluid, her precious angel already fast asleep.
“Young lady, if there’s any errands you need to run, now may be a good time to do so. What you need right now is a distraction. Is Pit a Flufftopia fluffy?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we most likely have your number. We’ll call you when Pit is ready to be picked up.”
“Oh. Alright.”
So Pit’s owner leaves, and Erwin summons the mechanical arms yet again.
Five minutes later, Henry and Carmilla enter, Sasha wheeling another fluffy in.
Henry and Carmilla eye the fluffy with concern on their faces.
“Ah, Henry. What’s-- Gott in himmel.”
Erwin’s jaw drops when he sees the fluffy. A pegasus mare, currently unconscious, occasionally murmuring, and bleeding from two pinprick wounds on her side.
“Was she–”
“Yeah, she was bitten by a vampire. And not nice ones like us.”
“Son-yuh an Huntew am deaw-in wif da bas-tuwd wite nao.”
“She’s trying to fight it, but I think she’s going to turn soon, Erwin.”
Calvin Korkea is the only one who has successfully fought the vampiric transformation off after being bitten.
Mina Harker was just under a trance. Old Abe embellished a few things for drama when he wrote the chronicles of his battle against the Vampire King. But his descendants know the true story.
Erwin grabs a tube of regen gel.
“I can do something about the wounds, but I can’t cure vampirism, unfortunately. She might be, ah, hungry when she wakes up. We don’t have any NuBlood, so–”
“There’s a machine across the street. Haven’t you ever seen it, Erwin?”
Erwin dabs regen gel on the wounds.
“Oh, yes. We don’t have any vampiric employees, or any vampiric residents. So I never really paid it much mind.”
And Sasha starts nervously backing towards the door.
“I, uh, I, have to go, um… think of an excuse to not be here.”
Henry grins at Sasha.
“Don’t worry, pal. We’ll be keeping an eye on her.”
“She am gunna nee hewp wen she wake up.”
“And a name, too. I’m sure I’ll think of something good.”
Erwin looks up at Henry.
“You should probably tell your family too.”
“I called Eri, they know.”
Erwin finishes dabbing the mare’s wounds, capping the tube.
“I think we’ve got a room free for her.”
“…Actually, it might be best for us to take her home. Nobody to drain there. Looks like you’re getting a new saferoommate, Carm.”
“It wuz kinna wone-wy in dewe. Cawmiwwa wike Aw-fah-dow, but he am jus wun fwuffy.”
“Ah, how silly of me. I’m supposed to be smarter than that.”
“It’s the first time you’re dealing with this. Relax, Erwin. We’ve got a generous amount of NuBlood in the house.”
“Ewica make a gud NuBwuddy Mawy.”
“And it goes great with her NuBlood pudding. One of Sander’s recipes, tweaked slightly. He uses beef and pork blood, but animal blood doesn’t taste so good to us. We’ve got this under control, Erwin. I went through all of this with Carmilla, and it was just the two of us back then.”
Henry carefully picks the unconscious mare up.
“Hold on, Carm.”
Carmilla reaches out, touching Henry’s ankle with a marshmallow hoof.
“Cawmiwwa am weddy, Henwy.”
“Swell. Baker Love Item Peter.”
blip
Henry, Carmilla, and the unconscious mare vanish.
At a push of a button, Erwin summons the mechanical arms for the umpteenth time.
He eyes the clock, deciding that it’s time for a break.
He makes his way out of the building, greeting Alex and the Foundation’s resident Igor on the way.
He arrives at the lobby. Gilda’s still here, but Mark is now bathing Cleo and Julius elsewhere.
“Just going to Starbucks, Gilda.”
“Of course, Dr. Stahlberg.”
“I think we’ve reached the point that you can call me Erwin.”
Gilda smiles.
“Alright, Erwin.”
So Erwin exits the lobby, entering the nearby Starbucks.
“Erwin!”
“Hello, everyone.”
One of the employees, a bearded man of Lebanese descent, grins at Erwin.
“What’ll it be today, Doctor? The usual?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Still grinning, the barista gets to work.
“The usual it is! Latte, with steamed Austrian goat milk!”
Fun fact: fluffy milk is actually a lot sweeter than most mammals’ milk.
However, there’s laws against harvesting it for humanoid consumption in most pro-hugbox places.
For the same reason that milkbagging mares to feed foals is illegal in such places. The exact same reason.
Erwin’s dealt with many milkbags. He knows the pitiful conditions they’re kept in.
And it’s turned him off fluffy milk for life.