"Return to Facility B-34" by NobodyAtAll

Note: this is part of the FauCorp and the Fluffy Cabal series.

Warning: minor spoilers for the Carnage Saga.

In Facility B-34, one of FauCorp’s many fluffy breeding facilities, Susan Laine-Stoley, CEO of FauCorp and youngest child of Dr. Pierre Faucheuse, walks down a hallway with Ronald “Ron” O’Shaughnessy, one of the employees here, and eldest brother of Miles O’Shaughnessy.

On either side, doors and one-way windows.

Behind each door, a saferoom.

In each saferoom, a happy fluffy couple, either with foals, or soon to have them.

Presumably, you’ve seen this familiar scene before.

Each room has its own human(oid) caretaker. In one room, a dwarven employee, presenting male like most dwarves, is checking up on one of his assigned couples.

In older times, dwarves only had one gender, that gender being dwarf.

The saferooms have soft green carpets, and the walls and ceiling are painted sky blue, with clouds and hills and flowers.

Interestingly, the paint used on the walls is reactive color-changing paint invented by the Nerd Squad. As day turns to night, the walls and ceiling will turn dark blue, like the night sky.

There’s glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the walls, and nightlights.

Fluffies aren’t the biggest fans of darkness, after all.

A certain group of miscreants currently in Michigan are much bigger fans of darkness.

But this isn’t about them.

“How are things going with Twinkle, Ron?”

Ronald examines the sleeve of his sunshine yellow uniform, thinking for a moment that there was a stain on it.

“Pretty good, mum. Hasn’t been asking for more Bestest Babbeh Friends.”

It’s been a long time since we last saw Ronald, hasn’t it?

Of course, we’ve seen plenty of Miles.

Ronald’s doing a lot better since the last time we saw him. He’s a lot happier, and a generous amount of positive reinforcement applied by the Faucheuse family has done wonders for his self-esteem and confidence.

As you might be aware, Twinkle used to live in this very facility, in the days before Pierre quasi-retired, but after a certain incident, and several therapy sessions with Dr. Deston Faucheuse, Twinkle retired from the breeding game, not even remembering that she was in the game.

Her ex-special friend Star is doing well, having raised a lot of happy, healthy litters with his new special friend, Honey.

Not that Twinkle remembers Star, either.

As for Twinkle herself, Ronald adopted her, having gotten a pay raise after the incident, and having moved into an apartment with space for a fluffy.

Before she went over to the bitch side, Ronald was her primary caretaker here, they both got along superbly, and Deston didn’t bury those memories.

She was also spayed after the incident, hence the Bestest Babbeh Friends.

Neither Pierre nor Deston thought it wise to trust her with real foals again.

She’s got a lot of Bestest Babbeh Friends.

And every last one looks like her.

Susan and Ronald pause outside one room, looking through the one-way window.

There’s a couple of green fluffies in there. The stallion has a blue and yellow mane and tail, and the mare, heavily pregnant, has a red and purple mane and tail.

“More rejects from Facility F-20, I assume?”

“That’s right, mum.”

“Well, they still have decent coloring. And we might end up sending some of those foals back to Facility F-20. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Y’know, mum, with all the stuff Dr. Valentine has invented, couldn’t she invent some way t’see what colors foals will be before they’re born?”

“Well, I’ll be talking to Val later, once I’m back at the Tower. I’ll share that idea with her on your behalf, Ron. Clearly, Miles didn’t get all of the smarts.”

“Thanks, mum.”

Facility F-20 is another of FauCorp’s breeding facilities, specializing in breeding rasta fluffies. Since Marley crossed Threshold X, rasta fluffies have become very popular.

The comparison to a certain scarlet piece of office equipment from a certain 1999 black comedy has already been made.

If a given fluffy doesn’t make the cut, FauCorp can always find another place for them. Fluffy abuse is not tolerated on FauCorp property, so that place is never an incinerator.

And with fluffy abuse being banned in more and more parts of the planet, the government is starting to crack down hard on incinerators.

Not just because a lot of the fluffies who wind up in an incinerator are still alive at the time.

The now-defunct Abuse Syndicate was dealing in those, too. They had people installing incinerators for abusers.

The Syndicate’s goal was to proliferate abuse on pro-hugbox turf, being founded by the late Vanessa Valentine, Pierre’s first wife, out of sheer, malicious, childish spite.

Many abusers have attempted to DIY incineration with whatever they’ve got handy, such as by burning their victims in an oil drum in the back yard, and those abusers learned the hard way just why incinerators are the preferred way to cremate a fluffy.

The smoke and the stench of burning fluff tend to draw attention.

Especially the stench.

And the screaming, if the fluffy is still alive.

Which, again, they often are.

Susan and Ronald move on, stopping outside another room.

Inside, they can see Star, a perfectly happy pegasus stallion whose yellow fluff has a golden glitter, and his special friend, Honey, a honeydew green pegasus mare a year or so older than Star, feeding their latest litter, making sure that every foal gets enough milkies.

Several of the foals, still blind, have inherited their father’s glittery fluff.

Very good coloring, and it looks like Star’s glittery fluff isn’t a recessive gene.”

“I’m still kinda sad about 'is foals with Twinkle, mum.”

“But she doesn’t even remember them, does she?”


“Uncle Des knows what he’s doing when he has to bury memories.”

Those lousy mills that prioritize profit above all else might have their fluffies cranking out foals non-stop, but they do things differently in FauCorp’s breeding facilities. Here, quality is valued over quantity. Each fluffy couple is given plenty of time to recover after each birth, and they won’t be expected to have the next litter until they’re ready.

Many mills just leave the fluffies in one big pen to sort it out themselves, and extract any resulting foals the moment they’re weaned, to be sold off to, well, anyone who’s got money. The mills aren’t picky when it comes to their clientèle.

And most, if not all of the fluffies born in such mills tend to die… distressingly young.

They’re lucky if they live long enough to blow out the candle on their first birthday cake.

And if they get a birthday cake.

Karmically enough, most mills don’t last much longer, not with the ChaotiX busting abusers worldwide. Not when it’s common knowledge that the strongest human alive doesn’t abide abuse.

Calvin Korkea has personally busted enough basement breeders to fill no less than five prison buses.

You try arguing with someone who can drop a cruise ship on your house without breaking a sweat.

As has been explained in the past, the Faucheuse method of breeding fluffies is expensive and time-consuming, but FauCorp has become the premiere fluffy company, so you can’t say that their methods don’t get results.

And it’s not like the Faucheuse family really needs to make a profit off fluffies. FauCorp’s other, non-fluffy-related enterprises more than make up for the loss.

But those are the boring enterprises, and not what you’re here for.

By now, FauCorp is the premier fluffy company in most timelines of this sub-branch of the multiverse. In other sub-branches, where the Faucheuse family and FauCorp do not exist, less scrupulous companies like Hasbio, Alenix and FluffCo dominate the market instead, flooding it with their shoddily made products.

Which, depending on what sub-branch you’re in, might be intentionally designed to kill and/or maim the fluffies unfortunate enough to use them.

Another word for sub-branch is headcanon.

But the Faucheuse family has high standards for all of FauCorp’s products, and, again, fluffy abuse isn’t tolerated on FauCorp property.

They don’t use milkbags in these breeding facilities either, for that very reason.

It’s been proven that stress can negatively affect the quality of a lactating mare’s milk, and there’s few things more stressful than having one’s limbs, tongue and eyes removed, being strapped down, having a feeding tube shoved down one’s throat and catheters up one’s urethraa and anus, and unwillingly having strangers suck on one’s nipples.

Here, the foals grow up on their own mummah’s sweet, creamy milkies, enriched by a diet of ÜberFluff Bestest Babbehs kibble, for pregnant and nursing mares.

And the foals are raised by their actual parents, who teach the foals all the things good fluffies need to know before they’re weaned, and leave the breeding facility for one of Flufftopia’s many outlets across the universe, or to star in Fluffywood productions.

Yes, across the universe, you read that correctly. Fluffies have spread to several planets besides Earth, such as Mars and Lumix, aquafluffies are extremely popular on Hydrox, and stone fluffies are just as popular on Silics.

Even the King and Prince of Vajarsi have adopted fluffies of their own, and other Saingans are following suit of gaudy nightclub armor.

The Tennebites’ opinion on fluffies is trending sharply downward.


Not every fluffy born in FauCorp’s breeding facilities leaves the nest at the same age. Flufftopia doesn’t sell unweaned foals, but they cater to people who want anything from a freshly weaned foal to an adult fluffy.

The latter is recommended for a first time owner.

For an inexperienced owner, an adult fluffy can already be a bit of a handful, and foals are even more fragile.

And then there’s the fact that some of the foals born in these breeding facilities wind up crossing Threshold X. It’s gradually becoming more and more common.

Those foals are enrolled at Dr. Pierre Faucheuse’s School for Gifted Individuals, where they’re trained to gain control over their powers, and, after being supplied with a power dampening bracelet (it’s very classy), those X-Positive fluffies go on to Flufftopia, to await their new owners.


As has been pointed out by Kyle Jones, one of Flufftopia’s employees, they don’t sell X-Positive fluffies to inexperienced owners, and it would be grossly unfair to deprive those fluffies of the chance to find a loving home just because they’ve got powers.

That’s why the fluffies come with power dampeners. They’re designed so a fluffy can’t get it off by themself.

So even if they go over to the smarty side, it won’t end in disaster.

And in the case of any pyrokinetic fluffies, they also come with a free lifetime supply of fireproofing spray, invented by Pierre.

The fluffy’s lifetime, not the owner’s.

As Susan and Ronald move on, Susan grins.

“So, how are things going with you and Arleen?”

“Pretty good, mum. She’s gonna move into my place soon. She already practic’lly lives there…”

Dr. Arleen Jacobs, up-and-coming fluffy psychologist, works over in Facility A-40, where fluffies with severe mental maladies are treated.

Right now, Deston and Arleen are doing pretty much the same thing Susan and Ronald are doing.

Before Ronald worked up the courage to ask Arleen out, she was dealing with the aftermath of an ugly breakup. Her ex, for reasons unknown, kept calling her Harley despite knowing full well what her name is, which was the least abusive thing he did.

That guy’s in prison now, for multiple counts of fluffy abuse.

Among other things.

Remember: where there are little crimes, large crimes are not far behind.

Ronald has proven himself to be a much more caring, supportive, and encouraging boyfriend. He may not be the most handsome or charismatic man in the world, and he’s nowhere near as powerful as his younger brother, but he’s got a big heart, and Arleen thinks that’s sexy as hell.

And because Ronald’s younger brother is in the ChaotiX, any arrogant meathead who thinks he can just push Ron to the floor and steal his girl like a Neanderthal will soon be dealing with an angry silver Omega Class who knows exactly what voltage will be enough to make the meathead soil himself in public.

You’ve seen how Miles reacts when someone threatens his loved ones, yes?

He’s got that in common with Calvin.

Susan beams happily at her dutiful employee.

“If it ever comes to the point that you need to, ah, go ring shopping, my husband can lend you a good catalog.”

That catalog’s been passed around the ChaotiX like a bong at one of their smoke sessions.

Ronald blushes and splutters.

“I don’t think we’re ready for that, mum. Don’t wanna rush it, y’know?”

“Just keep it in mind, Ron. Look at how long it took for me and Xav to get together.”

The duo finds Xavier Laine, showrunner at Fluffywood, half-Lumixian, and Susan’s husband, standing outside one of the windows, looking thoughtfully at the saferoom on the other side.

The foals, having been weaned a few days ago, are happily playing with foal-sized soft blocks, sharing as good fluffies should, and their parents are watching them like fluffy hawks.

Xavier’s got one hand on his chin, murmuring to himself until he notices his wife.

“Oh! Suzy. Didn’t see you there. Hi, Ron.”

“Hi, Mr. L.”

Xavier’s father, Xander, an officer of the Intergalactic Patrol, is at Xavier and Susan’s house, keeping an eye on Xidorn, the couple’s infant son, and Binky, the family’s fluffy.

It’s his day off.

Xidorn has inherited his mother’s power to detect lies. Utter a falsehood in earshot, and the little tyke cranks the waterworks open.

Without a dampening bracelet on, any bedtime stories have to come from the non-fiction section of the library, and even letting him watch something as inoffensive as Peppa Pig will make him cry.

Of course, they had dampening bracelets ready, because Susan’s been dealing with that for years.

It’s going to get interesting when Xidorn learns to talk, and starts asking questions about those kinds of things that parents don’t want to discuss with small children, like where babies come from.

All of those little white lies that get parents through childhood will be completely and utterly useless.

Susan isn’t surprised to see Xavier here, because he’s often here a lot, looking for new talent.

“See anyone who’s got potential today, Xav?”

Of course, Fluffywood Studios also has high standards for its Alicorn Actors. All of the fluffies who star in Fluffywood productions are alicorns. They do the best in showbusiness.

Xavier shrugs.

“Not yet, Suzy. We’re looking for a new AA to play the Foal Wonder. Sebastian’s too old now. You know we’ve gotta do that every once in a while.”

Sebastian was already close to adulthood when he was cast as the Foal Wonder, Captain Fluffy’s trusty sidekick, but remember, Hollywood pulls that shit all the time too.

Ronald chimes in, eager to help.

“You seen Star and Honey’s litter yet, Mr. L? Some of 'em 'ave their old man’s-- er, their old stallion’s glitter.”

Xavier smiles at him.

“That’s great, Ron, but I’m looking for a colt with similar colors to Sebastian. Once the little guy is in costume, the audience won’t be able to tell the difference.”

Susan nods.

“And I’m sure that Sebastian won’t be out of work for long.”

“That goes without saying. Oh, and we’re also looking for a fluffy to play Omega Fluffy in the upcoming crossover. Y’know, because Captain Fluffy To The Rescue! is live action, and The Adventures of Omega Man is animated…”

“Did you–”

“Yeah, I asked Cal, but him and Marley are swamped at the moment, Suzy. Shame, we’d save a bundle on special effects. Cal might be getting a voice cameo on Omega Man, though.”

Ronald raises an eyebrow.

“You mean he doesn’t voice Omega Man himself? Blimey, coulda fooled me, sounds just like 'im.”

Xavier shakes his head.

“You don’t pay much attention to the credits, do you Ron?”

“I just skip 'em, guv. Always love a good post-credits scene, but sitting through the credits is a pain in the bum.”


Susan asks the question she’s been meaning to ask for a couple of minutes.

“So who’s Cal going to voice in that cameo, Xav?”

“Omega Man’s dad. In a flashback scene, obviously. Cecil says that’s called a casting gag. So, uh, they wouldn’t happen to have any fluffies who look like Marley here today…?”

Ronald chimes in again, feeling rather chuffed that he can be so helpful.

“We’ve got a couple of rejects from Facility F-20 in another room, guv. The mare’s about to pop any day now. You can always come an’ take a look after the birth, Mr. L.”

“I’ll make time for that. Thank you, Ron. Say hi to Arleen for me later, will ya?”

“I will, guv. She’s moving into my place, so if the Swole Patrol can lend a hand, I’d be very grateful, guv, very grateful indeed. Gotta lotta ‘eavy boxes to move, an’ I’m no Dwayne…”

Xavier laughs.

“We’ll see what we can do, Ron.”

That evening, Ronald gets home from work, and as he walks into the living room of the apartment that he and Twinkle call home, that Arleen will soon be calling home too, he finds his younger brother Miles, sitting on the couch and watching TV with Future Quin, Future Marley, Ginger, and Twinkle.

The redheaded Omegas were fluffysitting for Ronald today, and brought their own fluffies along.

Ginger is Miles’ fluffy, remember? Calvin got her for Miles as a present for his sixteenth birthday.

Twinkle is curled up with no less than six of her Bestest Babbeh Friends.

Ronald sees an ashtray and a Smoke-Sucker on the coffee table, and half of an atomica in the former.

“At least the neighbours won’t complain about the smell. So 'ow’d it go today, lads?”

Miles turns to his big brother.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Ron. A nice, peaceful day. You?”

Ronald hangs his coat on the hook, and walks over, petting the fluffies, Twinkle getting the first pet.

“Same. Coupla births, a Code R, nothin’ I ‘aven’t seen before. Gotta thank Cal’s Nanny for giving me some tips. An’ Mr. L was scouting for new talent again.”

Then Ronald notices the bracelets also on the coffee table, seemingly made of gold, a ruby in one, a sapphire in the other.

“What were ya usin’ those for?”

Quin shrugs.

“Just showing Twinkle how they work.”

Miles smiles shrewdly.

“It was just a coincidence that we couldn’t agree on who should have the last donut.”

“Did you have to tell him that, Miles?”

“Twinkuw neba seen a muw-juw bee-fowe dis bwite time.”

Ronald strokes Twinkle’s fluff, dark purple flecked with white.

“I 'ave. It kinda looks like fun.”

Miles grins.

“Trust me, it is. If you cross Threshold X, we could merge together, Ron. I’ve already merged with Cal and Quin before.”

Quin lights the atomica with a fingersnap, a trick his father taught him, and takes a puff.

“We’ve been trying to figure out which ChaotiX members would make the best mergers. Y’know, besides the ones that have already been done.”

Miles fiddles with his COMP. Him and Quin are currently in street clothes, but those things are still handy.

“Yeah, the Nerd Squad’s working on an app to make it easier. It’s called the ChaotiX Merger Generator. Just select two team members, and see what they’ll probably look like merged together. It’ll be handy, what with that Merge-O-Matic we’ve been building. Here, watch.”

His COMP projects a hologram of Henry and Rex, wearing Bands of Merging.

The holograms fistbump, and merge into a single hologram of something that looks like a very hairy vampire with a wolf’s ears and tail.

“It’s… it’s not guaranteed to be 100% accurate yet.”

Ginger giggles at the hologram.

“Dat wook kinna funee, daddeh.”

“Heh. It does.”

After Miles presses a couple more buttons, the holographic werevampire fizzles away.

“And if you lot think that’s bad enough, it gets bloody weird when you select a humanoid member and a fluffy member. I’m talking AI-generated hand weird. Like the app just doesn’t know what to do. It’s a work in progress…”

Ronald ponders the matter.

“Whaddya even get if ya merge a human an’ a fluffy together? Wouldn’t that be like, a humanoid fluffy or something?”

He shudders at the thought.

“Blimey, there’s a nasty mental image.”

Miles clarifies a thing or two for his older brother.

“Cal and Mar have merged together, bro. But only when Mar’s in human form.”

Quin laughs.

“Yeah, they don’t like that mental image either.”

Future Marley shrugs.

“Mawwey nu eben hab dat powah.”

He prefers his nephilim powers.

Ronald heads into the bedroom, pulling the shirt of his uniform off, leaving the door open so he can continue the conversation.

“I gotta change, me an’ Arleen are goin’ to Sugarbean’s later. You two don’t mind keepin’ an eye on Twinkle again while we’re out, do ya? We’ll bring back some for alla you.”

Miles raises his voice a tad.

“Of course not! Twinkle’s a sweetheart.”

“Du un-cuw Miwes weawwy meen dat?”

Miles strokes Twinkle.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Ronald exits the bedroom, now in his skivvies and holding a clean, dry towel over his shoulder.

“Thanks, mates.”

He recently got a tattoo on his upper arm.

A heart, with the name Arleen over it.

Dave gave him the idea.

He quickly heads into the bathroom, and a few seconds after the door is locked, the redheaded Omegas and the fluffies hear the shower running.

Quin turns to Miles.

“He was just standing there in his underwear, right in front of us.”

“I used to live with that, mate. At least he’s started leaving his underwear on before going into the bathroom. And it’s a good thing he switched from briefs to boxers.”

It was shortly after Ronald initially asked Arleen out, during his preparations for their first date, that Ronald looked in his underwear drawer and realized how embarrassing it could be if the date lead to his apartment.

He frantically went out and bought two weeks’ worth of boxers, and upon getting home, dumped his tighty whities in the dumpster.

Twinkle didn’t understand what her daddeh was worrying about, but in her defence, fluffies don’t usually wear underwear.

Clothing is not really a thingy of fluffy wossname.

Other than the collars and harnesses most house fluffies wear on a semi-regular basis, that is.

Of course, there are fluffies who suffer from incontinence, especially older fluffies, and yes, Flufftopia sells diapers for fluffies too.

Diapers are… technically underwear.

And there are some particularly dickish humans who will suggest that perhaps all fluffies are incontinent.

But a diet with plenty of vitamins, minerals, and fiber can do a lot for a fluffy’s digestive system. Flufftopia’s ÜberFluff line of fluffy food is much healthier for a fluffy than any competing brand.

And tastier, too.

A number of other brands of kibble are made of fluffies, but thanks to the Anti-Abuse Laws, and the Abuse Syndicate’s kibble smuggling being shut down, that’s becoming harder to find too.

However, there are still lots of places where fluffy abuse hasn’t been banned yet, and some countries have become safe havens for abusers.

So those who are part of the mission to better fluffykind’s lot, like the ChaotiX, the Fluffy Cabal, and FauCorp, still have plenty of work ahead of them.

You can’t make a better world for humanoids and fluffies alike overnight.