Sam Makes a Housecall
By: Turboencabulator
“Do I want to know how you know how to do this, dude?” Sam asked, peering into a fresh concrete
tunnel going straight into the hillside under Will’s house. The heavy door was hidden in a cove
of rock, just off the foot path as it began its switchback ascent up to Will’s back porch.
“Probably not.” Will said with a grin. “You said you wanted someplace hidden for the web
stuff.”
“Yeah, but this is a bit out there.” Sam muttered, following Will in and closing the metal door
behind. Their footsteps echoed as they walked the ten meters to the inner doorway, already
standing open.
Will stepped through, closing the door behind Sam and flicking on the lights. “Well I have some
friends who specialize in taking money from people with way too much money. Luxury survival
shelters and things like that.”
Sam looked around as Will switched his hiking boots out for a pair of clean slippers, stepping
off the linoleum of the entry area and into the stream area proper. The large, square room was
divided into triangular slices by low walls, with the middle of the room dominated by a
ring-like kitchen and bar area. Each slice had a large window into an empty room, and a set of
mixing desks and monitors surrounding.
“Dude. Slippers, this carpet is like eighty dollars a square foot.” Will said, heading over to
a door opposite the entryway.
With a blink, Sam switched over to slippers, looking down at the burgundy carpeting. “Why?”
“I figure if we’re going to be spending time here, we might as well enjoy it.” Will said,
opening the far door. “This side is the fluffy side. Access doors to the filming rooms, a
tunnel with rail system for moving fluffies to and from the shelter, the bathrooms, cleaning
closet, storerooms, all that lot.”
Peering through, Sam saw a utilitarian hallway and more doors. “How the hell did they build
this?”
“Very carefully.” Will said, closing the door again.
A phone rang, making both turn to look at the central island. Sam walked over and looked at a
group of phones. The one marked ‘clinic’ was ringing.
“How’d you…” Sam asked, before sighing and picking it up. “Advanced Biotoy Clinic, this is
Sam.”
“Oh, Laura, right? Yes. How’s Seafoam doing?”
“Right, good to hear. You what?”
Sam paused, listening, turning to look at Will with an unreadable expression. “That’s not a
problem, though I’m not sure how your insurance will handle it.”
“Ahh, that makes sense. Yes I’ll be along in an hour or so. Could you text me the address?”
“Thanks.”
Sam hung up, and sighed.
“Uhoh. What.” Will said, leaning against the wall.
“I have been asked to perform checkups on a herd. Or something akin to a herd. It’s a bunch of
fluffies in a hippie commune or something.” Sam said, rubbing his face. “Oh god this is going
to turn into a regular thing isn’t it.”
“Yup. You go do that and I’ll get the stream ready and tested?” Will said.
“You sure?” Sam asked, thinking.
“Go. Have fun.”
Lightning was grumpy, the yellow ‘clinic fluff’ vest was both a bit itchy and too warm, but he
tolerated it. Sitting on his riser in the driver’s seat of the van, he watched the fields roll
past the window, listening to a rebroadcast of Ask Me Another running on the local NPR
station.
“Su, wut dis pwace daddeh?” Lightning asked, turning to watch the road ahead.
“It’s a commune, it’s like a village but everyone shares common resources and stuff. Apparently
they have a farm and a lot of fluffies that haven’t seen someone who knows fluffy medicine.”
“Wut sud Witenin be wookin ou fow?”
Sam thought for a moment. “Well first keep an eye out for any fluffs that smell like they might
be interesting. Snoop around, check for anything fluffy-level that the humans might
overlook. Stuff like that.”
“Dewe gun be tewwitowy issues.” Lightning said, pensive. “Da wocaw fwuffs gun be twyin to
esstabish dominance.”
“They’re dumb, but if they know you’re working with me, they should calm down.” Sam
said. “Besides, I’m going to make it clear to the people that if their fluffies get aggressive,
you get to defend yourself.”
Lightning smiled. “Otay.”
His sharp, strong teeth glinted in the light.
Sam pulled the van into a long gravel drive, going between fenced garden plots, beans on one
side, tomatoes on the other. He waved to a young man in coveralls and a straw hat watering, and
the man waved back, a bit confused. Trundling along, Sam pulled up in a gravel park, a decent
distance from a few other vehicles, and got out.
The iconic chk-CHAK of a pump action being readied made Sam sigh and lean against the
door, looking up at the porch of a large house. A red-faced, burly man was there with a shotgun
and a stern expression on his face.
“What are you doing here, this is private property.” He said.
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Lightning jumped up to the open driver’s
side window.
“Twiggew dissipwin, dummy.” He shouted, then blew a raspberry.
The man blinked, then looked down at his hand. With a frustrated sound he took his finger off
the trigger.
Sam laughed once and nudged Lightning. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He said. Then, turning back
to the man, he lit a joint. “Relax your sphincter, Laura called me.”
With a sigh, the man decocked the shotgun and hung it up by the door. “Sorry. We’ve been
getting a lot of land developers out here. I’m Crow.”
He and Sam shook hands, and accepted the offered joint. “Probably going to need it if we need
to work with the fluffies.”
“This is a hell of a spread you’ve got here.” Sam said, looking around the extensive garden and
farm area. “You let the fluffies roam?”
Crow shook his head. “Not a chance. Don’t trust 'em in the crop beds. We have a barn and a
penned in area. About the best we could do is teach 'em where to shit and not to beg for fuckin
italian food.”
“Also. Never heard of a ginger named ‘Crow’.” Sam said with a grin, taking the joint back and
finishing it off.
With a laugh, Crow sat down on the steps of the farmhouse. “It’s short for Lucretius. Not sure
how it’s short for that but it’s happened. So how does this work?”
Sam sighed, wistfully looking off into the distance. “This fright, this night of the mind must
be dispelled, not by the rays of the sun, nor day’s bright spears, but by the face of nature
and her laws.”
“What?”
Sam blinked, shaking his head, as if to clear himself. “Sorry, so, we’re going to do this in
two operations. I’ll move my van over to the barn if there’s access, and if you or others
wouldn’t mind helping, we’ll corral the fluffies, bathe 'em, and I’ll give them a once over and
then we can release them back. While we’re doing that, Lightning here will be doing some
snooping around and investigating.”
Lightning waved, his forehooves up on the windowsill of the driver’s side door. Crow waved
back, with a weak grin. “Uh, not sure that’s wise. Several of our stallions are pretty big and
territorial.”
Both Sam and Lightning chuckled a bit. “Yeah that won’t be a problem. Though I’m going to give
you fair warning, if Lightning needs to defend himself it is entirely possible you might be
down one fluffy by the end of it.”
Crow stood up and walked over, looking Lightning over. “You sure he can handle himself?”
Sam nodded. “Oh yes.”
With a shrug, Crow pointed to an old fashioned red barn. “Right, go slow over there. We’ll get
the doors open and you can pull right in and set up.”
Sam backed the panel van into the barn and parked it, getting out and popping his back. “Damn
you need to get that path smoothed or something.”
Lightning hopped out behind him, and looked around. Crow nodded, and gestured to a pair of
workers. “Hey, over here, we got some stuff to do.”
A young man and an older woman walked over and Crow turned back. “This is Sam, he’ll be doing
the fluffy checks, and his fluffy uh…”
“Witening.”
“Lightning. Apparently he can handle himself if things get rough.”
The duo nodded. Sam popped his neck and gestured vaguely around. “Ok, so how about we start
with an overview of your setup?”
The woman walked over, introducing herself as Mary. “Lucas, why don’t you help Crow until we’re
ready to start.”
The young man nodded and went out with Crow. Mary lit a pack and sighed. “I’m going to guess
you’re not a regular fluffy vet. Laura’s mare was barren and she came back from you with a
shitload of babies.”
Sam grinned and shrugged. “I have a few unusual talents here and there.”
“Mhmm.” Mary said, eyeballing him through the smoke. “I’ve been around enough to recognise
trouble when I see it.”
She looked down to see Lightning tapping her ankle.
“Annywun ebew teww yu yu wook wike Gates McFadden?”
A modest herd of fluffies, thirty or so, were milling about in a large penned in field. A tree
in the middle provided shade, a safety trough water, and a waste trench provided an emptying
grounds. The field backed up to the barn, which was divided into small stalls inside, and a
wood-shaving floor. Sam looked over the setup, a few fluffies curiously looking over at the
visitor before going back to their games or snacking on weeds.
“What do you feed 'em?” Sam asked, taking out a notepad and jotting down a few things.
“Plenty of fresh greens and timothy hay. The leftovers from crops and the weedin, we wash it
all of course.” Mary said, chaining off another cigarette. “Sometimes we’ll make 'em something
warm but that’s usually on holidays and shit.”
“I see toys, any other entertainment?”
“Well we don’t do that Fluff-TV shit.” She said, derisively. “Most of the time it’s nothing but
sometimes we let them watch PBS or a kid’s movie.”
She looked down at Lightning, who was observing the fluffies through the fence. “You like
movies, Lightening?”
The fluff thought for a minute, then looked up at her. “Quite wike Tawentino movies?”
That made her pause, until Sam interrupted her thoughts.
“Separate the pregnant ones from the rest?”
“Nope.” She went back to looking at the herd with Sam. “And we check the feces for
infants. Haven’t had one fall in in six months.”
“Right, so, let’s do it this way. We get 'em all into the barn, you pen any that you think need
special attention. Do they tolerate bathing?”
Mary nodded. “Oh hell yes. I made sure they got used to that. Some of 'em like playing out in
the rain even, as long as it’s not a storm.”
“Excellent. We’ll have Lightning do some checks, he’s got a nose for things. Then after the
exam they get dropped off out here again.” Sam said, gesturing with his pen.
“Works for me.”
The trio walked back into the barn, though Lightning lingered behind, trying to place the smell
on the air.
Then it hit him. He smelled fear. And blood.
Sam had finished setting up a folding worktable near the open side door of his van when Crow
came back around and started setting up a portable fluffy shower.
“So all this can get billed under our livestock insurance, right?” Crow said, gesturing at
Sam’s setup.
“I’ll make it work.” Sam said, before perching on a stool and sighing. “Now, we have to have a
bit of a decision point here. In Indiana, privately owned fluffies must either be chipped or
neutered. Preferably both. Livestock fluffies, however, must be both, with the exception of
chipped breeder fluffies. And they must be housed separately from the general population.”
Crow groaned, rubbing his chin. “Shit that’s gunna put a ding in the budget for this year.”
Sam shrugged. “Sorry. Also the fines for not following that are even higher after the
SuperFluffMart breakout.”
“Good thing we only have Laura’s as domestics, then.” Crow said, rolling his shoulders. “Right,
what to start with?”
“Lightning?”
In one graceful jump, Lighting leapt over the three foot high wooden wall and landed gracefully
in the fluffy side of the barn. “Wets get da fwuffs inside?”
Crow nodded, and went out the access door, clapping his hands. “Alright, everyfluff, come on
inside, time for a checkup.”
The inane babble of fluffies grew louder as the fluffies made their way over, Crow gently
guiding them in. Lightning sat in the shadows next to the access door, observing, smelling. He
wrinkled his nose at the sight and smell of shit-caked haunches, muddy bellies, and he felt a
sort of natural arrogance wake up as he saw the dull, vapid simplicity in their eyes and heard
the topics of their pointless, mindless ramblings.
Crow finally got the fluffies herded over into the inner half of the barn, and dropped a gate
in place. Lightning jumped over it easily, making a few fluffies nearby shout and squirt in
surprise.
With a clap, Crow got the herd’s attention. “Everyone, this is Lightning. Lightning is here to
help with the checkup.”
There was a general rumble of ‘hewwo’ and ‘nyu fwiend’, and Lightning waved at the herd,
putting on a fake happy face.
“Ok, we’re going to do a little sorting. Mummahs with chirpies and soon-mummahs in the pens,
colts and fillies over by the water-place, and if you have bad feelings or owwies, go over by
the gate.” Crow said, looking around as the fluffies sorted themselves.
A unicorn, fat and puffy-cheeked, waddled up to Lightning and stomped his forehoof. “Dummy nyu
fwuffy dis am hewd’s wand.”
Lightning looked at the unicorn, curious. “Dat nise. Hab biggew wand and nicew housie at
home. Witenin am jus hewe to hep daddy gib check-up.”
Sam listened, setting up for the first round. The unicorn was particularly filthy, and it
watched as Lightning went off to check up on the fluffies that separted themselves out by the
gate.
The unicorn huffed, turning and muttering to two toughie-looking fluffies, then went and took a
dump. Sam watched as it went to a slightly scrawny fluffy, grabbing its ear with his teeth and
dragging it out of view of Crow behind a wooden wall. A smack and a muttered threat later and
the dull green earthie was made to clean the unicorn’s asshole.
“Daddeh?”
Sam leaned over and found Lightning next to a young dam, curled up against the gate and
shivering a little, as well as a semi-mature colt with a limp.
“I fink dese two awe sewwius.” Lightning said, with a grave expression. “I smeww uh… feminal
fwuuid.”
Sam noticed Lightning used words that the fluffies wouldn’t understand, and nodded. He looked
up at Crow. “These two first, please.”
Crow nodded and picked up the mare first, taking her to be bathed. Lightning sat down with the
colt and pretended not to be observing. The unicorn watched, a foul expression on his face. The
colt saw and instinctively scooted over behind Lightning.
The mare, now clean, was presented to Sam on the exam table, behind a privacy screen.
“Hello there.” He said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “You said you had some owwies?”
She nodded, uncomfortably squirming on the silicone pad and looking around.
Sam sighed, and leaned down quietly. “Another fluffy hurt you didn’t they?”
The mare’s eyes started to water and she nodded, looking down, her tail curling up under her
tightly. “Hab tummeh-babbies.” She said, quietly, sniffling. “An da Smawty wanted speciaw
huggies anyways. Nao nu feew tummeh-babbies.”
Sam nodded, and gave her a scritch. “I’m sorry. We’ll take care of things.”
A few minutes of exam and he leaned over to Crow. “So, have you decided on the chip and fix
thing?”
Crow nodded, stroking his beard in thought. “We’re going to go with fixing all but three
breeder males. Do you need to spay the females as well?”
“Yes, but that isn’t something I can do here.” Sam said, shrugging. “Really the best thing to
do in future is bring them in to the clinic when they’re starting to walk and talk for their
first checkup and I’ll handle it then. Currently I’ll just give the mares a birth control shot
and you bring a fluffy over once every few days for getting fixed?”
“I can swing that.” Crow said.
“Also. I’d start getting rid of smarties.” Sam said, turning back to the mare and carefully
chipping her.
“There’s a smarty?” Crow asked, vaguely surprised. “Must be keeping quiet about it.”
Sam nodded. “Should I just uh… remove him from the population?”
With a nod from Crow, Sam looked over at Lightning and grinned.
Lightning grinned back.
The Smarty glowered, watching as the orange-fuzzed human picked up the enfie colt from behind
the dummy new fluffy. He was poopie but looked weird, he was tall and thin and not round and
plushy like a normal fluffy. He talked funny too.
The two toughies pretended not to be toughies, hanging nearby. It had taken time but the Smarty
eventually explained that going after the humans would be a bad idea. They would let the humans
protect the land for them, and provide the big red housie, and they got fed and all the enfies
and playing they wanted. As long as he ran he herd, the humans could do what they wanted.
Now, though, there was a fluffy that didn’t listen to him, and smelled funny, and the enfie
colt thought it would protect him. Glancing at the funny soft wall by the table, the Smarty
wondered what the new human was doing with fluffies back there.
The poopie-cleaner fluffy had left, getting some water near the other fluffies. With a huff the
Smarty decided he’d make the toughies give it some sorry-hooves later for doing a bad job
cleaning the Smarty’s poopie-place. When he turned back, the new fluffy was gone, and both his
favorite fluffies to mount were inaccessible.
He huffed and wandered off to get food, but was interrupted by the orange human picking him up
and taking him to the good-water box. At least he would get some warm and tickles.
Sam examined a silent, grumpy unicorn, noting its extra heft and conspicuous erection as it
stared at the mares, lined up in their pens, chirpies suckling at their plump teats. Two
fluffies migrated around semi-following where the unicorn went, obviously the toughies. They
were near the exam table, trying not to look like they were watching.
“Right, you’re definitely in good health.” Sam said, picking up the chipping gun. “You’re going
to have this poke, and another poke after, and then you can go play again.”
The chip went in with the fluffy only letting out a little yelp. When Sam picked up the second
one, the injection pistol with an antibiotic cocktail, he saw the glimmer in the unicorn’s eye.
With the speed of a well-honed reflex, Sam flipped the unicorn upside-down as it let loose a
spray of sorry poopies over the concrete floor, making it squeal in surprise.
“Bad idea, shitrat.” Sam said, pushing the injection pistol into the unicorn’s taint and firing
the dose in.
“SCREEEEE!”
Crow looked around the surprised fluffies. “Told you all, bad poopies are punished.”
The fluffy curled up, panting and wincing as Sam entered its information in his laptop. Then,
slipping on a glove, he opened a small black jar and applied a cream straight onto the fluffy’s
asshole before tossing the fluffy on the other side of the gate lightly and watching it scamper
out. Sam got up, stretching, and leaned out the window, watching.
The uni wandered out, then stopped, blinking. After a minute it sat down, scraping its ass
along the grass, and whimpering. Then it started to groan, hind legs getting weak, tail up to
get airflow on the now reddened and dripping sphincter.
Sam wandered back in as the scree-fest started, worrying the fluffies around.
“Don’t worry.” Sam said to them with a big smile. “He’s just having a particularly difficult
poopies. Said he ate something funny.”
Apparently this was a common enough occurance that the fluffies went back to milling about and
chatting happily. Sam carefully put the lid back on the jar of extra-strength muscle balm and
took the next clean fluffy from Crow.
Lightning grinned to himself as the unicorn experienced a burning ring of fire, then turned
back to his investigations. The poop-pit was raked daily and well cleaned, with a grating over
the top to prevent the young ones from falling in. A tour around the edge and some test digs,
and Lightning found the fence was sunk into the ground far enough that fluffies wouldn’t be
able to tunnel out. Yet he still smelled blood, and the stark scent of terror.
Slowly, Lightning made his way over to the tree in the middle, sniffing, until he found a
fluffy-sized tunnel, ending in a small nest-like area. A bit of digging, and Lightning was
looking at the remains of several brown and off-green foals, violated and their skulls caved
in.
He made his way back out to the grass and sat, thinking, before going back in and over the
gate, and up to Crow.
“Cwow. Come wit me.” He said, and turned to go back out, leading the way.
Crow raised an eyebrow before turning and waving Logan over to handle the fluffy he was
bathing. A moment later and he was outside with Lightning, following him to the tree.
“Weach in dewe pwease.” Lightning said, pointing into the den.
He reached in, and felt the bodies. With a glance at Lightning, he carefully excavated five
dead foals, all earth tones, and none of them old enough to be on solid food.
“Any mummahs say dey missin babbies?” Lightning asked, thinking.
“No.” Crow looked at the barn. “In fact I think they might be from several different litters.”
“Dey got enfed.” Lightning said, looking straight at Crow’s face. “Payin’ yu smawty ow tuffies
pwobabwy.”
Crow nodded, getting up. “We need to make some policy changes here.” He said, going back in the
barn with the bodies.
Lightning sighed and continued exploring, smelling around.
Sam looked over the five tiny corpses, impassive, nodding quietly as he examined
them. “Definitely raped, then stomped.”
“I’ll have Mary separate the mares that have had litters.” Crow said, sour-faced. “I’m going to
see about getting someone to mind then more closely. Maybe some active training.”
He sighed, rubbing his face. “How do we find out what happened though?”
“I’ve got a method.” Sam said, taking out a bio-waste bag and putting the bodies in, sealing it
carefully.
After processing the stallions, Sam looked over at Lightning and nodded. Lightning nodded back
and moved himself so he was sitting just inside the door, his back plainly visible
outside. Crow was tending to the foals, fillies, and dams.
Sam had four mares on the table in front of him, in leg boards, two pregnant again. They
nervously shifted around.
“Why weggies nu wowk?” One asked, her limbs wiggling under her.
“Girls, we have a lot to talk about.” Sam said, his arms folded. “You four are the only mares
to have babies recently.”
“Awe babbies otay?” A dove colored pegasus asked, her wings flipping nervously.
Silently, Sam lay the biowaste bag out on the table in front of them, the five little bodies
plainly visible.
The four mares looked at the dead babies, the tension growing.
“Here’s how this works.” Sam said, keeping his tone even. “I know that some of these babies
belong to some of you four. I know you gave them to either the smarty or the toughies. I want
to know whose babies are whose, why you gave them up, and how long this has been happening.”
The mares just looked at each other.
“If you say nothing.” Sam said, “We go to my clinic. I use my machines to learn who sold which
baby. And then I take your leggies, and your baby place, and leave you for ferals to use as
enfie toys.”
A plump, pregnant earthie, deep emerald, snorted quietly. “Dummy hoomin nu take nuffin. Smawty gib u wowstest huwties.”
Sam grinned, turning silently to look over at the door.
Lightning had acted ignorant, wandering inwards as the smarty and two toughies crept in the
door behind him.
The smarty, walking awkwardly from a sore bottom, glared at the new fluff’s back. Glancing to
his toughies, he nodded, and the trio began to advance on the weird brown newcomer.
Lightning simply turned to face them, trotted past one of the confused toughies, and closed the
door to the outside.
“Whai dummy fwuffy cwowse dat? Nao nu wun way.” The smarty said, grinning a bit. The toughies
chuckled and advanced on Lightning.
“Simpwe.” Lightning said. “Nao yu can’t wun away eiver.”
In a flash he was on one of the toughies, bowling it over on its back. Lightning sank his teeth
into the toughie’s throat, and shook his head like a dog, tossing the body into the smarty and
ripping out the bigger stallion’s adams apple.
Lightning chewed on the meat, his face stained with arterial spray as he advanced on the other
toughie.
The toughie sat down and slowly slid to laying, hiding behind his hooves. “Nu, nu, nu huwt, nu
huwt, nu pwease.” He said, quivering, soiling himself in fear.
“Aww. Otay. Yu be a nisey fwuff fwom now on.” Lightning said, then leaned down and spoke into
the toughie’s ear. “If Witenin finds out yu been a meanie again, gun cum bak an eat yu fwom de
weggies inwawds.”
The smarty was trying to buck the inner gate, Crow watching, mouth hanging open a
bit. Lightning went to the writhing, struggling toughie, watching as it weakened, the blood
jetting out of its neck in spurts.
Pinning the toughie down with his forehooves, Lightning nibbled his way up the toughie’s throat
until, sinking his teeth into a wad of tissue, he pulled the stallion’s tongue down and out the
hole.
“Hm.” Lightning said, lookin it over. Then up at Crow. “Cowumbian neckties nu wook wite on
fwuffies.”
The smarty was on its rump, pressed against the gate, trying as hard as possible to get away
from Lightning.
Sam put a carrier down, the door open. Lightning stared at the smarty, then pointed to the
carrier.
As fast as his dumpy frame could carry him, the smarty ran into the carrier and cowered inside,
tooting in fear as he had long run empty of shit to spray. Sam closed the carrier and slid it
into a compartment in the truck.
Sam sat back with the four mares, putting Lightning on the table and carefully cleaning the
blood off him. All four stared at Lightning, nervously twitching.
“So.” Sam said, to the emerald mare. “You gave at least one to the smarty.”
“N-nu?” She said, squirming in place. “N-nicey mistew, nu gib… du-dummy smawty nuffin?”
“Oh, it’s nice mister instead of calling me names, now that the smarty is going away.” Sam
said, with a wicked grin. “I know you’re one, but unless you and all the others involved admit
it, we’re going to my clinic.”
The mares were all silent, except the gray pegasus. She stared quietly sniffling. “Dat wun made
us gib nu-pwetty babbies fow da smawty an tuffies.”
Sam pointed at the emerald mare, and the pegasus nodded. “Onwy had widdle gweeny an bwownie babby. Said dey wewe poopie an yicky an if da smawty nu get dem dey’d get stompies fow no-pwetties. Fwuffy nu unnerstan, why stompy babbies jus fow bein not-pwetty?”
The emerald mare screeched in rage, struggling. Sam muzzled her with a wince. Lightning
grinned, watching her.
“Girls is this true?” Sam asked, watching the other two mares nod, looking down.
Sam bagged the head of the emerald mare, sliding her in van next to the smarty. After
depositing the remaining mares in the pen and watching them run away, Sam popped his back and began putting away the exam setup.
Taking out the mare and colt from before, Sam put them in the barn’s pen again and crouched on
the other side of the fence. “The smarty’s gone away. You two can relax.”
He turned away as the duo hugged each other, to find Crow staring at Lightning.
“Told you he could handle himself. I’m finished here, you start bringing in a fluffy or two at
a time tomorrow for fixing?”
Crow nodded. “Yeah, you uh, mind if we settle today’s bill then?”
“That works by me.” Sam said, opening the door to the van and letting Lightning jump in, taking
his seat on the riser mounted on the passenger side.
“What happens to those two?” Crow asked, nodding into the back at the smarty and the mare.
Sam grinned. “We’ve got some humane disposal options.”
Crow nodded again slowly, and watched Sam drive off, and down the road.
Sam pulled in to the clinic parking lot and backed in to the garage. It did not escape his
attention that there was a police cruiser outside, and the sounds of shouting coming from the
lobby.
He sat in the van for a minute, and with a sigh took out a dugout and one-hitter. “This is
going to be fun.” He said, taking a hit of weed, and sighing out the smoke.
Will slipped into the garage awkwardly, the sounds of a screaming row escaping during the few
seconds the interior door was open.
“Uh. Officer Belker is here with. People.” Will said.
“Yeah I heard. I got two in the back. One smarty and a bitch mare.” Sam said, finally getting
out of the van. “I’ll handle the guests, can you stick them in the main lab? Don’t bother
letting 'em out, just put them in the sink or something.”
“Oh god yes.” Will said, and went to move the fluffies.
Bracing himself, he opened the door, letting Lightning in first, and proceeded to the front. He
glanced and saw Lightning diverted into the office and into the little bed there for a nap.
The noise of two people having a screaming match grew until Sam was in the lobby. A middle aged
couple were pointing fingers and shaking fists, and Belker was sitting in a chair reading a
copy of Photography Today.
Sam wandered over to the desk and started a timer, setting it in plain view of everyone, and
waited, fiddling with his phone.
Eventually the woman glanced over and motioned her husband to be quiet. “What the fuck are you
doing?” She asked, staring a Sam.
“Well, you’re in my clinic, wasting my time, so I’m going to charge you for it.” Sam said,
turning and looking at the timer. “That’s already forty bucks you owe me.”
Belker tossed the magazine down and stood up, wandering over and handing Sam a court
order. “You got a real winner this time.”
Sam flipped it open, looking it over. “What the hell is this?”
“Custody battle.”
“For a fluffy?” Sam asked, incredulous. “Seriously.”
“Percy is a designer fluffy.” The woman said.
“Mrs. Delia Cavendish, Mr. James Cavendish.” Belker said, gesturing at the
couple. “Uh… fluffnicians aren’t doctors, are they?”
“No,” Sam said, “the honorary makes it though. Anyways, where is Percy?”
James indicated the back area. “Your uh, colleague took Per back to an exam room. What do you
mean ‘the honorary’?”
Sam looked up, blinking. “Hm? Oh, I was awarded an honorary doctorate from Carnegie-Mellon.”
He went back to looking over the court order. “So they’re pulling an air bud?”
“Ugh. It’s not a damn dog it’s a very expensive prestige fluffy and I am not giving it up.”
Delia said, turning away in a huff.
“This is why I’m divorcing you, it’s all about the money. Thank the Lord my father convinced me
to get a pre-nup.” James said, folding his arms.
“Wait if you have a prenup, why is the fluffy in question?” Sam asked, looking between the two.
“It only covers objects and money. Living things still get split.” James said. “Didn’t keep her
from trying to get my dog on top of her parakeets. Spiteful bitch.”
Delia sneered and took a drag on a vape, styled to look like a cigarette in an ebony
holder. “It’s better hung than you are.”
“Folks,” Sam said, feeling the argument starting to re-ignite. “I’m still keeping the timer
running. And I will split the bill and charge you evenly for this shit.”
The tension ebbed away slowly. Sam filed away the court order. “So, I’m going to give your
fluffy a once-over, treat any issues I find, and then we’ll figure out who it wants to go
to. You two will not be present.”
Sam turned, heading into the back as the argument restarted.
Percy was an overgroomed, precisely trimmed alicorn with a peach coat streaked with silver, an
ivory mane, and intricate swirls in his horn. He fidgeted nervously, occasionally pawing at the
satin collar. Sam watched from the other side of an observation window as the fluffy fidgeted,
more nervous than the average fluff. After a minute, Sam went through to the clinic proper and
opened the pen, lifting Percy out.
“Right, let’s see about you.” Sam said, setting Percy on the exam table and pulling up a stool.
Percy sat down in a perfect show position, and Sam started to carefully check the fluffy over.
“Anything making you uncomfortable?” Sam asked, and Percy shook his head, glancing around
nervously.
A pause, and Sam sat upwards, folding his arms. “They’re not around, you can relax.”
For a brief moment, Percy maintained his stolid stance, and then he whined, trying to paw at
his collar again. “Suu itchies.”
Sam unbuckled it and put it to one side, examining the fluff underneath. It was compressed and
the skin was irritated, and after applying a lotion, Sam itch-rubbed it in. Percy melted,
tapping a hindhoof on the table slowly.
“Better?”
Percy nodded. Sam picked up a swab, took a cheek sample, and set it for analysis. “Alright,
you’re definitely healthy otherwise though?”
Shifting around, Percy nodded. Sam’s brows furrowed, thinking deeply.
“Percy,” He said, sitting down with the fluffy again. “You know your mommy and daddy are
separating, right?”
Another nod, and a grimace.
“If you had to pick which one to-”
“Daddeh.” Percy said, immediately.
“Ok.” Sam said, then after a short squint of thought, “Why?”
“Mummeh am meanie, gib Pewsy huwties fow nuffin. Pewsy hab pewfek postuwe, make good poopies,
gib best back-wawkies, nebber du nuffin bad.” Percy said, dejected. “Daddeh at weast nu gib
huwties.”
“And you can relax around him, right?” Sam asked.
Percy nodded, grumbling quietly. Sam nodded with him, then stood up. “Well let’s get you a bath
for good measure and get you back to your family. You’re used to baths right?”
Standing up, Percy nodded and bounced once. “Yus, nicey-befow mummah gib bafs.”
“The nice before mother?”
“Mummah dat waised me.”
“Oh the breeder.” Sam said, thinking. “She came to give you baths?”
“She ‘pwofessionaw gwoomew’.”
Sam’s suspicions were raised, looking between Percy and the first results from the gene
tests. One bath later, and they were confirmed.
Delia and James were silently glaring at each other from opposite sides of the room when Sam
came back out with a carrier. He set it down on the table behind the counter and sighed.
“Well?” James asked, impatient. “Who gets Percy?”
“In a moment.” Sam said, then turned to Delia. “I assume you picked him out originally?”
“Yes, what does that have to do with this?” Delia asked, growing agitated again.
“Please, humor me.” Sam said. “Where did you find him?”
“Well.” She said, folding her arms and glowering a bit. “If you must know, I went to a local
boutique breeder. He was very expensive because of the streaked coat and horn. Came with
grooming for life because his coat needs special care.”
“Right.” Sam said, taking out a printout. “I’m afraid you’ve been scammed.”
James and Delia looked at each other, then back at Sam.
“Scammed?” James asked.
“I did a genetic rundown of Percy.” Sam said, then held up a hand to quiet Delia. “It’s
standard with fluffies that might be the result of heavy interbreeding. High end fluffies tend
to have more disorders.”
She settled down, listening.
“Percy is most definitely not a designer fluffy.” Sam said, laying out the results of the
tests. “For one he’s smarter than the average domestic. And judging from the sequencing, both
his parents were ferals. Granted he’s healthy, smart, and very well trained, but if you paid
more than fifteen bucks for him you got ripped off.”
“But his coat! His horn.” Delia said, tapping on the genetics printout. “This doesn’t mean he
isn’t valuable, just that his parents were carriers of good genes.”
Silently, Sam pulled Percy out of the carrier, setting him on the counter. The streaks were
gone from his coat, leaving a warm peach color behind, and his horn was clean and monocolor.
“She had been dyeing his coat in streaks.” Sam said, watching as Delia’s jaw fell open. “The
horn treatment was done with grey wax pencil.”
Without a word, Delia turned and walked out, driving away in a luxury sedan.
James sighed, picking up Percy. “Well kid, looks like it’s you and me.”
Percy wiggled into James’s chest, with a little whine. “Can be nu cowwaw? Itchy.”
With a laugh James nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I hate ties too. How about we hit up Bienellis?” He
asked, walking out with Percy.
Percy’s cheer was cut off by the front door closing. Officer Belker got up and
sighed. “Well. That took less time than I thought.”
Sam shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, the fluffy picked James anyways. Might want to put that in the
file so it’s airtight.”
With a nod, Belker tipped his cap and walked out.
Lightning remembered the day he watched his psychotic sibling destroy their mother. She had
been reduced to a breeder, and used until she could no longer be used. It made Lightning feel
good inside to know this. Mummahs are the most important in making sure babies grow up to be
good fluffies.
So it was with great relish that he watched as Sam carefully pillowed the emerald-green mare,
watching the terror and agony in her eyes as he sliced muscles, popped joints, and severed
nerves.
A slow, methodical process was playing out in front of Lightning. His daddy liked having one
breeder around, just for the pain and suffering of it. Lightning found it hard to disagree with
the idea when it came to bad parents.
Sam grinned, tapping on the mare’s belly. “You’re going to have lots of babies. Soon.”
Lightning watched as Sam installed the colostomy and catheter ports, and the feeding tube in
her throat. The mare passed out, only twitching.
She woke up in a shallow bowl in a small room. Gentle machine suckling on her teats, a feeling
familiar to her, was already draining her of milk. She could feel her babies were still in her,
ready to pop. A few test wiggles, and she confirmed her legs were gone. A moment of attempting
to shout, but she could only hear little whistles and the wet sounds of her tongue working in
her mouth.
She looked around, but could only see a stretch of grey wall a few feet in front of her, with a
black rectangle dead in front of her. There was motion behind, but even when she craned her
neck around and tried to lean, she could only get the barest glimpse of the room behind her.
After a minute of trying to look around, she settled again, wincing as the pressure on her
stitches returned. She jumped and yelped as a sharp pain appeared in her buttock, then went
away again just as abruptly.
Sam chuckled behind her, putting a syringe away. “Now, OB-4, you’re going to have your babies
soon. I’ll let Lightning explain to you what’s going to happen.”
Lightning stepped around in front of her, with that quiet, sharp smile on his face. “Hewwo
Obeefouw. Yu wewe a meanie mummah, so nao yu gun hab wots of babbies, but nebbew see dem. We gun wet stawwions enf yu, den take da babbies away. Untiw yu hab nu mowe babbies in yu.”
OB-4 tried to struggle, to get away from that damned smile, but then she squealed voicelessly,
shuddering as she felt her babies start to come. She felt Sam clean her up behind, and position
her for the labor. The next half hour was a familiar pain, over and over again, as she gave
birth to her second ever litter.
She was tired, panting, her throat raw from trying to make sounds. Then, Lightning gently put a
baby in front of her. Then another, and another, until seven wiggling, chirping newborns were
in a row in front of her. Sam set down a tray with four rubber teats in it, and Lightning sat
behind the row, watching OB-4.
Writhing, she tried to get to her young. They were chirping for milk so desperately. Lightning
watched, then looked at the tray. He touched a little milk to his hoof, and slowly waved it in
front of the chirpie’s noses, not letting them get close enough. They wiggled and reached,
blindly chirping and peeping, mouths open and searching.
“Aw. Dey wan miwkies.” Lightning said, grinning. “Tuu bad yu nu can feed dem. But I can.”
OB-4 looked at him, sniffling, her eyes big and imploring.
“Which wun tho?” Lightning said, and watched as she pointed with her nose to a baby that was
basically a smaller version of herself. Emerald green, and already plump.
Lightning stepped over to it lightly, rolling it lightly on its back. “Dis wun?”
She nodded, then watched as Lightning bit its ribs and abdominal wall out, opening the now
screaming and seizing chirpie from neck to groin. Lightning watched as it filled its own chest
cavity with blood before he bit the front half of its head off, silencing it. OB-4 stared in
shock, then began to sob, mouthing words nobody would ever hear.
Lightning finished off the chirpie, and then picked up a chirpie that could only be described
as ‘baby-shit brown’, and set it gently in the tray, nosing it over to a teat. The baby latched
on, suckling happily.
“Yu nu pick which babbies wiv ow die.” Lightning said, absentmindedly going through the other
chirpies. “We do. Yu jus squeeze dem out like a good enfie mawe.”
After a minute of consideration, Lightning gently picked three more chirpies to go on the tray,
and Sam took them away to be raised. OB-4 looked at the two remaining chirpies as Lightning put
them in a transparent tray a foot in front of her.
“Yu made othew fwuffies gib up dewe babbies fow no weason.” Lightning said. “Su ebbwy wittew yu hab, we gun wet one chiwpy go fowebba-sweepies. An is yu fawwt.”
He looked between the two, a warm and ruddy clay-colored earthie, and a sleek, black
unicorn. “Nao, which wun wives.”
Sam wandered over, gently rubbing OB-4’s stumps. She squirmed, hating it, sobbing and crying
more. “Aw, the dummy mare can’t rescue her chirpies. Let’s take them both, you did have the one
that looked like her for nummies.”
Lightning nodded. “Otay. An fwum now on, da ‘bestest’ goes fowebba sweepies.”
“Oh of course.” Sam said, picking up the tray and taking Lightning with. “Now, let’s let OB-4
have her TV time before sleeping. She’s getting special huggies in the morning and she needs
her rest.”
The lights dimmed and OB-4 heard a door click closed. The screen in front of her turned on,
playing the FluffTV program ‘Runny Day in the Park’.
The smarty peered out of a small cage, into a dimly lit room. There were only quiet sounds, and
the smell of fear and poopies. A bowl of barely edible kibble was molded into one corner of the
cage, and there was just a simple chicken-wire covered hole for a litterbox. He huued to
himself before the lights snapped on and a tall, gangly human smoking a funny burnie-stick came
in.
“HOOMIN! WET SMAWTY OWT!” He said, banging his forehooves against the door.
Will, for his part, simply grinned and turned the hose on him, washing the smarty down. “You’re
lucky you little fucker. You’re our first guest for the livestreams.”
“We’ll see you in a few hours, shitrat.” He finished, shutting off the hose and going out
again, closing the door.