Bongwater the Plug, a Glimmer Prologue (ambitiousleather8309)
Headcanon Backstory/Scraps of a comic (AmbitiousLeather8309)
“Pwease! Pwease, Nice waidy! Am Suun Mummah! Nu smeww pwetty! Su cowd, su mush tummeh hurties! nee nummies maik miwkies for bebbehs! Pwease!”
Maggie normally didn’t pay much mind to the pleading of feral fluffies, but maybe it was the dingy yellow of her fur, or maybe it was a hard day and the feral found Maggie in a soft hearted place, but Maggie picked up the fetid mat of fluff with some discarded newspaper and brought her home.
It would be a good start to rebuilding her research, after being kicked out of the family home and therefore, the family labratory. The whole dispute between her father and herself being the definition of ‘embezzling’ or ‘just compensation.’ At least out here, in this derelict warehouse, Maggies parents couldnt steal credit for her work anymore.
Silver linings or some fuckin bullshit saying like that.
The warehouse Maggie had taken over had obviously been a place for illegal dog fights. there were already steel kennels lined against one wall in the receiving bay. The bowling ball of a mare was roughly scrubbed in a sink of warm water and briskly towel dried before being left shivering in a dog kennel.
The mare had kibble, a water bottle drip, and the crate lined with disposable pads. While not terribly warm, it was warmer than outside, and her fluff would dry soon enough.
Still shocked from the sudden change of circumstance and unable to make heads or tails of the silent benevolent woman who rescued her, the mare quietly sang to her unborn foals.
Days passed and the mare’s delivery was imminent. Maggie looked down with her cold blue eyes and thrust a spoonful of something that smelled delicious into the kennel. was it sketties? the mare had only ever heard of skettis as a foal, but it was possible that this delicious treat was sketties.
“fankoo, nice waidy!”
Maybe an hour or so later the mare gave the telltalle screams of pain. Maggie did not rush down the stairs, didnt even look up from her coffee until she heard the wet, warbling crying as the mare realized her foals were dead.
Not that different than extracting the dna from strawberries in science class, the nanotechnology could be extrated from biotoys with a few household ingredients.
newborn or stillborn foals were the best, less bones, more concentrated tech in their little unformed brains. The little greiving mare didn’t put up much of a fight as maggie cleaned her kennel, scooping up the blood and mess and putting down fresh pads.
“Babbehs gu skettiland? Am bad mummah? miwkie pwace hurties! heawt hurties! Mummah sowwy!”
High efficiency blenders are best, extracting the biologic compenents from the technologic, but Maggie would have to make due with the kitchen supplies she got from the thrift store until her contact in the family lab had stolen her stuff back.
the little foal skulls cracked like tiny quail eggs, and the brains slipped out with a little squeezing. Maggie was about to extract the brain from the last one when the little corpse took a raggedy breath and peeped.
Maggie almost dropped the poor thing in surprise. premature. runty. feral. the color of resin stuck to the side of a bong, ugly little colt. He was sure determined to live.
Maggie gave the weak infant a single drop of foal formula and brought him back to the quietly weeping mare.
“Babbeh? Am mummah aginn?? Pwese gib babbeh, nice waidy!”
Maggie spoke for the first time to the mare, “He’s very sick, and very small. If you keep him clean and warm he might live.” Maggie pushed down roughly on the mare’s engorged teat until a single drop of milk dripped from the nipple. the mare tried to pull away but Maggie did it again, with determination as she explained, “His mouth is too small for your milky places, you’ll have to give him one drop at a time until he’s bigger.”
The mare obediently gave the little foal a thorough grooming, and the grateful little foal left a hefty drop of dark meconium poop on her tongue. the mare gagged and swallowed, shocked by how terrible it tasted.
“Good, yes, just like that. keep him warm and clean. One drop of milk at a time.”
The tiny foal cheeped up at his mummah, who dug her hooves into her own teats and pushed just like Maggie had demonstrated, splashing the little foals face with a single drop of milk.
The mare smiled up at Maggie as she shut the door of the kennel. “Nice Waidy? Wat… wat namesie fwuffy and babbeh?”
Maggie sighed and paused at the stairwell. “Youre so fuckin corny. heh. Yes. Your name is Corny, and the baby is Bongwater. Dont let him die.”
The other dead foals sat on Maggie’s work table, their little squished brains swished with dish soap and salt, already forming a layer of glittery nanotech in the rubbing alcohol Maggie carefully poured on top.
There was enough material there already to make about twenty vials of ‘Glimmer,’ the designer drug Maggie first cooked up in her parents basement. If you programmed that glittery snot to behave like opiods, it would. If you built the code for the nanotech to hunt down and destroy cancer cells, it could do that. maybe someday regrow limbs. or become immortal. but for know junkies would pay top dollar for a high as clean as Glimmer.
Maggie no longer needed her parents lab or steady supply of fluffy test subjects. she was in the shitty part of town near a dollar store infested with ferals. It wouldn’t be long until another pregnant mare threw herself begging on Maggie’s boots.
Bongwater was only the beginning of (what looked to Maggie) to be a promising career.
