Emma (Turboencabulator)

Emma’s First Night, a one-shot

By: Turboencabulator

Inspired by the work and conversation at


October. Erie, Pennsylvania.

Erie stank.

Not that any city had a pleasant smell, once it grew over a certain size. People crammed
together brought the smells together as well. Car exhaust, garbage, the shiny grey smell of oil
and hot electricity. The greasy reek of a slightly too dry sewer seeping up through the
grates.

Erie was worse. In just a few years the western half of the lakefront district had transformed
into a dense, squat maze of warehouses, packed with fluffies. Breeders, butchers, shipping
depots, film studios, fighting rings, even a ‘comfort house’ or two, all converged on the
intersection of the shorefront and I-79. It was the main hub of fluffy commerce going into
eastern Canada, and a major stopping point for land travel into the midwest as well.

This meant there was literal tonnage of fluffy waste being produced hourly. Dumping it in the
lake had been upgraded to a Class B felony, and there was only so much capacity in the
sewers. Eventually the grouped companies put together enough money to build a literal shit
pipeline, serving their entire sector, delivering to a waste processing facility just outside
the city limits. Upwind.

The smell was bad enough before, but the escapes, strays, and the natural agglomeration of
hugboxer groups that set up in Erie compounded the issue. When they eventually went out of
business, they just released their stock of fluffies.

Almost all of them were summarily arrested, for in Pennsylvania, mass release of fluffies
capable of breeding is considered ecological terrorism.


In a hugboxer clinic on the shores of Lake Erie, there was a very irresponsible
policy. Fluffies get to play together, unless they’re smarties, with minimal supervision.

Normally, there were minor scuffles. A stallion would try and mount a mare, and most of the
time the attendant would swat him off, or the mare would get loose. A few kicks in tiny balls
here and there, but this was the way fluffies were. So the staff played it off.

Fresh after inducting a new batch of rescues from the fighting pits raided the night before,
Kayleigh, the day intern, was put in charge of the play pen. A section of room separated by a
low wall, easily big enough for a hundred fluffies to frolic in.

It had been a half hour after art time, and the drawings, such as they were, were hung up on
one wall of the pen. The new fluffies, mostly traumatized, were clustered together or quietly
hugging with another fluffy, crying in happiness.

Except one. She was a lavender and sunflower-yellow unicorn, and if Kayleigh hadn’t been
reading whale.to and busily writing a thesis on the insidious Vitamin A conspiracy infiltrating
the baked goods industry, she would have noticed something odd.

This unicorn, named Emma, had spent the entire half hour watching a painting of a monster one
of the other fluffs had drawn, after having a bad dream. She was puffed, hunkered down and
ready to charge, and muttering.

“Stoopit munsta nu gun huwt Emma gun gib fowebba sweepies jus munsta twy somefin stoopit dummie no-pwetty munsta Emma see yu twyin num Emma’s see pwaces…”

On, and on she went, occasionally sucking in air.

A stallion watched her, and slowly crept over, sniffing her hindquarters.

“Pwetty mawe.” He said.

She just kept threatening the painting.

Now, fluffies may be dumb, but the stallion could put two and two together with some regularity
of success. He looked over at Kayleigh, then back at Emma.

With his nose, he slowly lifted Emma’s hindquarters, listening to her ramble at the
artwork. Then, he mounted her, and began nature’s dance.

“Enf enf enf enf enf.”

“Dummy enf mnuu… munsta nu twi-twi oooooh nu twick wit guud feew MMMMM feews gun gib
wowst-wow-enf enf wowstest sowwy oouhhhh…”

“GUUD FEEWS!”

The stallion dismounted, watching Emma. She didn’t move, just kept threatening the drawing.

Panting, his head clearing of the glow of coitus, he looked between Emma and the drawing.

Then he turned to the other watching stallions and waved at them.

“Dis one dummy!”

Soon, a line was formed.

Kayleigh broke up the party after eight stallions had gotten a turn.


Emma was soon moved to the mummah-room, empty except for her and one other dam, a shivering, nerve-wracked pegasus, swollen to the point of immobility. Her two hind legs were missing, and one of her wings had been mangled and healed incorrectly.

Emma was barely able to wiggle around, but with determination she had learned how to roll in a
semi-controlled manner. With many ‘oof’ and ‘humph’ sounds, she was nose to nose with the
pegasus.

“Hewwo! Fwuffy name Emma, gun be mummah soon.”

The pegasus, a cornflower blue, squeaked quietly and buried her face behind her hooves.

“F-f-fwuffy n-named ff-f-fwuffmeat, nu huwties pwea-pwease?”

Emma, as dense as she was, knew this was a very hurt new friend.

Her hoof made a small paf sound as she rested it on Fwuffmeat’s head. Looking into the
middle distance, Emma proclaimed.

“Nu huwties. Emma wiww pwotect yu and yu babbies.”

They stayed that way, frozen in a pose of protection and comfort, utterly silent. Barring
Fwuffmeat producing a nervous little squeaker.


The plan was set. When the babies came, Emma would protect them while Fwuffmeat slept, and if
Fwuffmeat saw anything, she would yell for Emma. Even though she couldn’t move very well, Emma practiced her meanest faces and the right timing of stompies to scare off anything that might threaten them. She noticed as the daylight streaming through the windows weakened, and the clouds started to roll in.

Emma knew what clouds were. Not really, but she knew that really dark clouds meant
sky-waters. She sighed, looking around the room for shelter. Then she remembered she was
indoors, and the nice humans were keeping the cold sky-waters from falling on them.

Fwuffmeat had been given a new, not-meanie name. Periwinkle, as she was now known, was making a scared squished-up face as her babbies were getting ready to come out. Emma felt the same way, but she put on a brave face. Unfortunately, she forgot to suppress the other face of pain and pressure, so she wound up looking like she was doing an impression of Nixon.

With a loud peep, Periwinkle started to groan and kick at the air, makin loud squeakly
noises. Emma knew what this meant. She ran to the gated door.

“MISS CANDY! PEWIWINKWE BABBIES COMIN!”

Emma had managed to roll-shuffle back to Periwinkle by the time Candace, the shelter’s vet, had
made it to the gate. Emma was out of breath but close enough to distract Periwinkle.

Then thunder struck, and Emma jumped. She felt a ripping feeling, then the pain came for her as
well.


Half an hour later, Candace was helping the two new mothers feed their young. Periwinkle had a
litter of four, but Emma had managed to squeeze out nine. After a moment of rest, Emma sat up
on her rear and began examining her children.

There were three brown babies. She was proud of them, for brown meant they could hide
better. One was a beautiful tangerine, which she was proud of, for humans liked that
color. There was a pointy-wingy baby in a mossy green, which she was proud of, for it could be
swift and attack with its horn. There was a very big baby, which she was proud of, for its
strength when grown. Each baby she went to she found something to be proud of, like her own
mother told her to do.

Emma’s mother said she was proud of Emma for her protectiveness. She took that to heart.

Each baby got milk, and Emma put in serious effort to remember the order she fed them in, so
next time, it could be different. She knew what favoritism did.

Periwinkle was already asleep, curled around her babies, under a blanket Candace had put over
her.

Emma looked up at her as Candace was setting up a few feeding stations. She pondered, then
lightly tapped on her shoe. “Miss Candy?”

Candace looked down at Emma. “Hm?”

“What do if dere pwoblems in dawk-time?”

Candace thought a moment. Emma was a unique fluffy, and interesting to study. Paranoia was
unusual in the little bio-toys.

“Let’s make a safe place you two can hide, and if you need a human, you come to the gate and
shout for Mark. He’s staying here tonight. I don’t think you have anything to worry about,
Emma. You’re a good fluff and you’re braver than a lot of mares.”

Emma stared at Candace, one eye blinking slightly behind the other as she processed the
information.

“OTAY!”


The shelter had locked up for the night, and Mark, the big dark-skinned human had leaned in to
say good night and turn off the lights. Emma peered out from the pillow-and-blanket fort
Candace had helped set up. Emma was skeptical at first, but once she was inside and saw how
warm and cozy and safe her babies were, and how much it calmed Periwinkle, she was convinced.

The night-lights were all on, dotted around the room, and the lightning and thunder outside was
going strong, the thunder never quite able to fade before the next peal struck. Emma kept watch
for a while, just poking her head out of the opening of the fort, scanning the room, before she
pulled the blankets closed over the opening and went to her litter, setting them at the feeding
machines or her own teats, sighing as the soreness left her abdomen.

Periwinkle’s last feeding had left her tired again, and Emma made up her mind to ask one of the
shelter humans for better food for Periwinkle. She seemed weaker than a new mother should.

Eventually Emma drifted off, sleeping curled around her litter.


With a loud crash of thunder, Emma woke up, panic-fart making a few of her babies sneeze or
wiggle themselves deeper in the pile. Emma listened carefully, and slowly peered out into the
mummah-room.

The nightlights were gone, the only light coming in from the safety lights in the hallway, and
the meager light through the windows. Shadows were everywhere, and Emma knew. Something was out there.

She steeled herself, and promptly went and chowed down on as much hay as she could fit. So
armed, she gently woke Periwinkle.

The pegasus blinked slowly, sniffling. “Emma? Wh-what happen?”

“Pewiwinkew. Emma gun go check fow bad fings. Scweam if bad fings come hewe.”

Periwinkle, now fully awake, nodded and chirped a little, shuffled next to Emma’s litter,
curling tighter around her own babies.

Emma slowly ventured out, nosing the blankets together behind her. She crept into the darkness,
until a flash of lightning illuminated a stuffed bear.

“Munsta! NU HUWT BABBIES!” Emma shouted, and charged, knocking the bear over. She reared up and stomped it over and over, before turning and unloading on it.

Then she froze, a creak in the distance making her ear twitch. She crouched down, creeping
along, teats dragging behind her in the darkness. A gaping hole had opened in the wall, with
some creature at the end of it, watching her.

The drawing of another fluffy in the play tunnel didn’t move as she charged it, stopping just a
few inches short of it.

“Dummy ebiw fwuffy, yu stay in dat howe and weave babbies AWONE.” She said, watching it, cheeks puffed. The other fluffy, to its credit, moved surprisingly little for a crayon drawing.

A flash of lightning and the shadows changed. Emma let out a ferocious battle-whinny and
charged the drawing, her teats catching on the edge of the play tunnel.

She fought like a stuck pig, for she essentially was one. Kicking and tearing at the paper with
her teeth, the tunnel rolled about the playroom, Emma’s hindquarters sticking out the end and
projecting shit every few seconds as she defended herself from the crayola menace.

The drawing was finally defeated, and Emma managed to pull herself back out of the play
tunnel. She walked on, head held high, as she looked for more threats.

In a flash of lightning, she saw another fluffy. A pointy fluffy. It was a clever pointy fluffy
too, it had her colors. She knew. It was trying to steal her babies, to trick them into
thinking it was her!

This would be no ordinary fight, and she crouched down, watching as the other fluffy did the
same. She started puffing her cheeks, and the other one followed suit.

The standoff went on. Emma knew the other fluffy would flinch first, and that would be her
chance.

Any minute now.


Candace looked into the mummah-room, a hankerchief held over her nose. The room was absolutely trashed, feces and urine everywhere, a teddy-bear destroyed, and Emma was unconscious in front of a broken mirror. Periwinkle poked her head out of the fort slowly, looking around.

She spotted Candace. “M-miss Candy? Emma’s babbies dwank awww de bottwe miwk.”

With a sigh, Candace nodded. “Ok. Let’s get you all moved somewhere while we clean.”

Periwinkle nodded slowly, looking around more.

Emma announced her agreement with snoring and a loud fart.

32 Likes

This was a good read! I would love to make this a potential series. It was so funny watching her beat-up crayon drawings. :rofl: Emma, never change.

10 Likes

We could have a sort of serial format. Each chapter is written, posted, and then the author nominates the person to write the next part?

In which case, I nominate @Foxhoarder for the next part.

Let’s see how far Emma’s Adventures will go.

10 Likes

Yeah, that would be great since I’m working a fic with Mystic and her family rn dealing with a night time thunderstorm.

3 Likes

Think you can portray her as being a little more fussy/grumpy than she was here? It was adorable to read her befriending another dam and she isnt always in a bad mood but her primary characteristic is that she is a fussy foal and a grumpy mare. She giggles and smiles a lot tho even if it doesn’t last for long. Again, I have no issues with the fic, just throwing it out there. I should have let you know beforehand tho so the fault is mostly mine.

2 Likes

if it cycles back to me, sure.

3 Likes

During the birthing faces descriptions, my minds visuals shifted away from the picture art style and changed to Carnivorous ducks style for a bit before resetting at the ‘Half an hour later’ like it was a que card on screen.

xD

2 Likes