“Wha’ wan?” The purple toughie standing in front of the pipe asked.
“Wan’ tawk tu Smawty.” You reply calmly.
“Wai?” He glared down his nose at you.
You are Primrose, a green unicorn mare with a pale pink mane and a member of the Big Wawa herd that lived deep within the tangled pathways of the sewers. Your smarty is a very old and very wise fluffy who manages the herd with a sturdy hoof. There were many rules the herd needed to follow, enforced by his legion of toughies. There were rules about who got to eat, what they got to eat and in what order. There were rules for who got to sleep where. There were rules about leaving and rules about coming back in. So many rules that even being born and raised in this herd trying to remember them all made your head spin. One rule, though, gave you more trouble and heartache than any other.
“Wan’ babbehs.”
This was the harshest of the rules in the herd. Smarty Melon picked all special friends. There were no special huggies without his express permission. Even the approved couples needed to ask before trying for a litter of foals. For those that decided to skirt the rules, the punishment could vary. If a couple that Smarty Melon picked were caught having special huggies without permission they would be separated immediately. No more huggies for them, not even non-special ones. The ones that weren’t approved couples got much harsher punishments. Sometimes it was many bright times serving as an enfie mare for the whole herd, for both offenders regardless of gender. Others would be banished, which was more or less a death sentance if you didn’t know how to navigate the tunnel system around your home. Not worth it to you, no matter how badly you wanted the mummah feeling in your belly.
Sometimes, though, he would stand on the Tall Box to speak to the herd and tell them that all special friends could have special huggies. Everyone would cheer, and you would hear the sounds of passion all night. Weeks later the herd would be filled with the sounds of mummah songs and chirps, and seeing the little bundles of fluff made your heart ache with envy.
The toughie rolled his eyes, but stepped out of your way. You thanked him quietly as you hustled down the dark pipe, excitement rising in your chest. You had no idea who he would pick for you, you hoped it would be Flutter. His orange fluff was so thick and soft, and when he hugged you it made your special place tingle. He was so strong, so fast, you knew that any babies he raised would be just as wonderful as him.
“…nee’ mo’ nummies tho, it am wowf da wisk.” you could just barely make out voices down the pipe.
“Smawty nu kno. Maybe am, maybe nu.” Smarty Melon replied.
“It am sketties tho! Bestest nummies!” A third fluffy replied.
“Sketties?!” You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping as you reached the end of the pipe.
All three fluffies turned to look at you. Illuminated by the light coming in through the grate above them was Smarty Melon, his pale green fluff turning grey around his muzzle. Standing to one side of him was Spice, a brown and orange pegasus with his wings spread intimidatingly and lip curled in a snarl. On the other side was Smarty’s right hoof toughie, Moon, a light grey unicorn.
“Mawe be wistening?!” Spice growled.
“N-nu!” You stuttered, ears flattening to your head. “Jus’ wan… ask smawty…”
“Ask smawty wha’?” Moon asked.
“Uhm…” You nervously stared at your hooves, unprepared for speaking to a larger audience.
“We gu to nummies pwace.” Smarty spoke calmly. “Gu get fwuffies weady.”
“How many?” Spice asked.
“Aww. Nee wots tu get wots nummies. Moon tuu, nee’ guud wedew.”
“Spice can wead!” He snapped, you flinched at the sharp tone. “Spice am bestest toughie!"
“Nee’ expewience. Moon am owdah. Knu tunnews and see-tee awmost bettah dan Smawty. Wisten to him.” Smarty Melon turned his back to them, signaling that he was done talking. Spice snorted in frustration, but said nothing as he shoved past you and out of the tunnel.
“Tankoo Smawty, nu wet yu down.” Moon bowed to him and left the tunnel, shooting you a reassuring glance. You replied with a small smile.
“Wha’ Pwimwose nee’?” he asked, looking at the strange drawings on the wall. You couldn’t make sense of them, but somehow Smarty Melon did, and used them to navigate the underground pathways around your home.
“Uhhhmmm… su…” You dragged your hooves around the wet muck that accumulated at the bottom of the pipe. “Pwimwose tink… dat babbehs am bestest ting ebah an’… tink Pwimwose be guud mummah… suuu…”
“Su Pwimwose wan spechow fwend?” He asked.
“Yus!” You leapt with joy. “Pwimwose be bestest mummah ebah, an’ wub babbehs suuuu much! Pwimwose been pwacticin’ sing su sing bestest songs fo babbehs, an-”
“Nu.”
His words stabbed into you, the joy escaping your chest like a popped balloon. “…Nu?”
Smarty sighed. “Nu. Yu nu am weady.”
“Buh… buh…” Hot tears pricked the corners of your eyes, your voice catching in your throat. “Buh be bestest mummah… an…”
“It nu nebah.” Smarty Melon stepped closer to you. You shrank back, hurt. “It just nu nao. Yu yung fwuffy, nee’ weawn."
“Buh… wan Fwuttah be spechow fwen nao…”
“Nu can hab Fwuttah as spechow fwend.” Smarty said softly.
Your tears dripped down your cheeks, landing next to your shaking hooves. The ache in your chest was building as if your insides were shattering with every word he spoke, the sharp shards stabbing into your heart.
“Wingie fwuffies an pointie fwuffies nu shud hab babbehs. It make munstah babbehs.” He sat closer to you in the entrance to the pipe. “Knu am hawd, bu’ Smawty fin’ guud spechow fwend fo’ yu when tiem.”
“Can… If Pwimwose… fin sketties fo hewd, can hab babbehs?” You asked, looking up at him.
The old earthie thought for a second, hoof to his chin. “If yu get sketties… How ‘bout…” He looked over at you. “If get ‘nuff sketties fo… aww toughies tu num. Den hab babbehs.”
“Dat am…” You trailed off.
“It am wotsa sketties.” Smarty Melon nodded. “If can du it, yu show Smawty am dummeh. Yu show dat yu babbehs wowf wisk of munstah babbehs, su can hab Fwuttah as spechow fwend tuu.”
“Pwimwose wiww du!” You nodded, determined. “Bwing mostest sketties!”
Smarty Melon smiled. “Smawty hope yu wite, hope am Dummeh. Teww Moon Smawty say cum wif.”
You happily skipped out of the tunnel to the gathered fluffies, determined to prove yourself. You would bring back enough sketti for the entire herd! You would show them you were worthy of babies!
“Fwuffies fowwow! Fin’ nummies! Bwing bak!” Moon called, signaling the group to move. Friends and family called their goodbyes behind you, asking you to return safely.
You followed the nummie finders led by Moon out of the Big Wawa place, keeping pace with the experienced scouts. Flutter was part of this patrol, and he was overjoyed that you were coming along, happily explaining how a food raid usually went. He gave you a plastic bag and told you how to fill it and secure it around your neck as you traveled further and further across the dark concrete pathways. You didn’t tell him about your deal with Smarty Melon, you didn’t want to disappoint him if you failed to bring back enough.
“Awwight!” Moon stopped at the top of the ramp. “Stay cwose togetha, nu wandew off! We get bestest nummies today, sketties!”
Excited chatters ran through the gathered fluffies, many of them never having experienced the ambrosia before.
“Shaddup!” Spice snapped from the front of the pack.
Once it was quiet again, Moon continued. “Scout Fwuttah say ‘nuff sketties fo’ aww hewd, su nu nummies tiww get bak! Aww fwuffies get sketties wen bak!”
“Fwuttah fin’ sketties?!” You whispered to him as the fluffies around you cheered.
He nodded, grinning back. “Wots. Mowe dan…” He looked around, trying to quantify his find. “Mowe dan Pwimwose hab pwetty.”
You blushed, shuffling your hooves bashfully. He would be the perfect special friend. Strong, smart and sweet, you would be the happiest fluffy in the herd! You knew he would be a wonderful father, if he was as kind to his own foals as he was to the other babies in the herd. You’d seen him running through the tunnels with foals perched between his wings, giggling and urging him to run faster.
“It may be dangewous!” Moon called out. “Buh fwuffies am stwong! Take sketties, cum home, and den we feast!”
The gathered fluffies roared their approval, feasts were rare. One of the few times the lower ranking members of the herd could have the finest nummies. Moon stood proudly over them, chest puffed. Once the cheers had settled he led the gathered fluffies out into the light.
You had never left the sewers before, and so the sunlight caused you to pause and blink in pain.
“Mobe, dummeh mawe.” Spice snapped from behind you, you yelped and scurried to keep step with Flutter.
“Spice am meanie.” Flutter whispered. “Buh Fwuttah nu wet him huwt yu.”
You swooned, barely keeping your hooves under you. “Tankoo…”
The group marched down the sidewalk, a few scouts scooting ahead periodically to report back that it was safe to continue. Eventually you smelled it, along with every other member of the herd, the rich smell of sauce wafting on the breeze.
“Dat am sketti!” Someone cheered.
There was a loud slap, and then Spice yelling “Qwiet!” at the offending fluffy.
Moon gestured with a hoof and the pack stopped, standing before a pile of plastic bags. “Nummie testew!” He called softly, and a brown fluffy scurried to his side. Moon pointed to a hole in the bag where a few precious noodles escaped, and the tester scarfed them down quickly. The group watched with bated breath as the brown fluffy stood before them. When he didn’t fall down or scream, Moon turned back to the herd.
“Nummies am safe!” He called. “Put into baggies, and when fuww wun back to Wawa Pwace! We meet dewe!”
The gathered fluffies surged forward, jostling for a place around the bags. You tried pushing past the wall but the fluffies were too strong. The bag was quickly draining and you were worried that there would be nothing left when you returned. No sketties meant no babies! You looked around in a panic, trying to find some way to get the fluffies out of your way.
You saw a similar bag behind a metal container, and scampered over to it. It smelled the same as the one the herd was dismantling. You ripped a small hole in it with your teeth, and even more sketties started pouring out! The sauce was rich and salty on your tongue, and you licked your lips, reaching forward to take your first bite when you remembered your task. Babies were so, so much more important to you than sketties. You carefully loaded your bag, resisting every fiber of your being begging you to swallow with each mouthful. You focused on the thoughts of foals, humming a mummah song to yourself. You would do it! The sides of your bag bulged, and you pressed it down with a hoof to try to make more room. This had to be enough, you reckoned. Smarty would be so happy with you, he would let you have as many special huggies as you wanted!!
“Gu way!” You heard Spice call. Fluffies gasped, some gave some small fearful squeaks. You were out of time and quickly fastened the bag around your neck like Flutter showed you and dragged it out from behind the can.
Spice was standing, cheeks puffed and wings spread in front of a human. A big human! You felt scaredy pee leak down your leg. You had never seen a human this close, but stories of what they would do to fluffies were commonly shared throughout the herd. Moon was shoving fluffies away from the sketties, urging them to leave. Another human came into view. Then another. They were wearing strange blocky not-fluff and held weird long things in their hands. They didn’t look friendly, from what you could tell from their somewhat transparent headwear. The one up front looked down at Spice with a sneer.
You needed to go.
You strained, your heavy bag of sketti almost too hard to move. You had to, you had to make it back with this! This bag was more important than anything you had ever held!
“Spice say gu way!” He snorted, stomping a hoof.
“Or what?” The human chuckled, leaning way down to get in Spice’s face. “You gonna stomp me? Give me sowwy hoofsies?” He replied in a sing-song, mocking voice. His transparent headwear was flipped up on his forehead, so you could see the malice on his face clearly. You hoped Spice knew what he was doing.
“Ow… Ow Spice gunna…” Spice stuttered, thinking.
You saw Flutter stuff one last mouthful into his bag, then turn to leave. He made eye contact with you, looked over at Moon, then back to you. A few of the fluffies with him scooted across the alley, others scrambled behind the pile of trash bags looking for a place to hide. The nummie tester just cowered on the ground, hooves held over his eyes.
“Ow… Gunna do dis!!” Spice spun on his front hoof, bucking his legs out behind him and kicking the human in the face.
“OW FUCK!” The human shouted, holding his eye. “OH YOU’RE GONNA FUCKING PAY FOR THAT!!”
He lifted the strange long thing, pointing the thin end at Spice.
“DIE SHITRAT!”
Time seemed to slow. Flutter dropped his bag of sketti and began to run towards you, Moon flinched back against the wall. One of the humans began to say something. “Hey, don’t-”
All you understood from then was noise. The loudest noise you’d ever heard. You saw a bright flash from the end of the tool the human held, then Spice exploded into a red mist. A sharp pain ripped through your belly, sending you flying back onto the ground, tumbling. Your sketti bag caught your neck, making it hard to breathe. You coughed, and pulled at it, pressing through the pain and breaking the thin plastic that constricted your airway. Adrenaline surged through you, and despite the pain in your abdomen you struggled to your hooves.
In front of you was Flutter, laying flat on the ground. He was saying something, his lips moving but you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. Behind him the humans surged forward, wielding things you didn’t have a name for. One was a long stick with two sharp points at the end, the human stabbed it into the brown nummy tester and swung him around with it. Another had something long in his hands attached with a tube to a tank on his back. It shot a bright orange flame out the end, washing over the unfortunate members of your herd.
Flutter reached out a hoof towards you, you stumbled over to him. You tried to lift your soon to be special friend, urging him to move but he flopped limply onto the ground. Something red and squishy covered his hind end, and one of his leggies was missing. You looked around and saw it against the far wall in a puddle of gore. He needed it to walk! You stumbled to it and grabbed it in your teeth, the metallic taste of blood overpowering the sketti aftertaste remaining in your mouth. You saw many other little bits of orange laying across the pavement, mixed in with bits of brown and blue and thick red sludge.
“…could have killed us!” Just barely over the ringing you could hear a human yelling. You turned to them and the world pitched to the side, sending you falling down onto Flutter. “I fucking told you to put it on semi!”
“Fuck off!” The first man stomped down on a red stained pile in front of him. “I’m not getting humiliated by a fucking biotoy!!” The sharp screech of a fluffy punctuated his words.
You slowly got back to your hooves, the sticky red thing rubbed off onto your side “Sowwy… spechow fwend… nu mean tu…”. The humans continued to bicker as you dragged bits of orange fluff over to him. Your hind legs were being dummy, making it slow going but you grabbed every bit you could see and dragged it back to him. You shoved it onto him, putting him back together in the only way you could and smoothing your hooves across the seams where thick red goo leaked out.
“Dewe… aww bettah… spechow fwend…” You mumbled, eyes sliding shut. You were so tired. You hoped that Spice and Moon wouldn’t be too mad at you for taking a quick nap, you were just so tired suddenly, and it was so warm. One of the humans approached you, holding out the bright fiery thing. The light hurt your eyes, you held up a hoof to shield them as you slipped into unconsciousness.
“… acted as needed to protect our city from the threat of biohazard.” You could hear humans talking, far away and somewhat muffled.
“So this was an appropriate response, in your words?”
You slowly cracked one eye open, seeing a blue haired human bent over you. She was fiddling with an assortment of bags of liquid hanging above you that had trailing tubes taped down to shaved patches of your fluff. You felt… strange. Fuzzy, and as if you were drifting on warm water.
“Absolutely. Thirty to fifty feral fluffies, even just digging through the garbage, could infect hundreds with cholera and other illnesses, it’s just best to be safe and sanitary.”
“Oh yeah.” The lady with the blue fluff over you muttered. "Fluffy guts sprayed all over the place is real sanitary.”
“… Nice… wady…” you mumbled, your tongue feeling thick and unwieldy in your mouth.
“Oh. You’re awake.” She crouched next to you. “Hi there, I’m gonna make you feel better.”
“Whewe… am…”
“You are at the hospital, where we’re gonna make you and the rest of your friends all better.” She put extra emphasis on the words in a way that made you feel slightly unsure. “Do you have a name?”
“Pwim… wose…”
“Primrose, that’s a pretty name.” She scribbled on a small bit of paper nearby.
“Fwuttah… am huwt… nu weggy…”
“Shh shh shhhhhh…” She adjusted something on one of the tubes attached to you. “Let’s get you back to sleep. We’ll get you back with your friend as soon as you’re feeling better, okay?”
You stretched your hoof out to her and she took it. “Nu… Nee…”
“You don’t need to do anything. I’ll take care of it. Go to sleep, you must be so tired.” She stroked your neck with her gloved hand.
You let your head fall back onto the table. You were very tired, the feeling of drifting on warm waves intensifying. The nice lady put your hoof down next to you and stepped back, doing something else with the other strange equipment around you.
On another table across from you was a black bag, and you could just make out something fuzzy sticking out of it. It was a lovely burnt orange, the sort of color the sky turned right before the sky-ball went to sleep. You smiled, the tone reminding you of Flutter’s pretty fluff.
You drifted off, thinking of the beautiful babies you would have with him when you were reunited.
“Mass termination is never something we want to see, but it’s an unfortunate reality of dealing with the biological threats in this city.” The head of FluffControl continued, speaking to a reporter on the scene of the massacre. “We do what we can to protect our people from possible infection, and my boys out there did exactly that.” The muffled voice on the TV down the hall was clear over the rabble of the ER.
You are Mary Sue LaRue, and before you lay what remained of a green unicorn mare. Her mane color you put down on the intake sheet as “unknown”, as very little of it remained. She had burns covering her front leg and shoulder, and some up the side of her face. She wheezed softly as you turned up the Selyidine drip, hoping to soothe her pain.
“What a mess…” you mumbled, leaning back on the table. You were given two of the casualties of this incident, an orange pegasus that was DOA and poor Primrose here. The fact that they were left alive and sent to the hospital went against the FluffControl statement, clearly this was an overstep of power. Something they needed covering up. Made sense, seeing how messy the pick up was. Dead fluffies were thrown into cryotubes along with live ones, sometimes two to a tube.
“Done in here?”
You turned to see Dr. Davis enter, two women in white coats behind him. "Yep, she’s stable. Injuries aren’t too bad, but she’s taken some shrapnel to the lower abdomen. Hasn’t pierced her colon which is good but her uterus is for sure destroyed. She said something about a special friend, so there might be some trauma to deal with on that.” Fluffies never dealt with being sterile well which was why they were so rarely spayed. It was almost as if they could feel a barren womb and would slip into the wan-die loop quickly.
“Confirmed feral? You checked for a chip?” Dr. Davis asked. A woman behind him picked up her intake sheet and looked it over.
“Yep. Chip could be damaged, but her scruff is more or less fine so not likely.”
“Treatment would be pricey,” the woman reading the sheet commented. “City’s not going to pay for the care of a fluffy they tried to kill.”
You sighed, patting the mutilated fluff on the rump. An unfortunate reality of this line of work was that you couldn’t save them all, no matter how hard you tried. Fluffy treatment was expensive, and unless there was a slot at a local rescue lined up or the hospital thought it would be a good example of a charity case ferals were often humanely put to sleep. At least it was a better fate than bleeding out in the alley with her companions.
“You said she mentioned a special friend?” The other woman approached, looking over Primrose.
“Yes, unsure who he is, or if he was in this group at all.”
“Not likely,” the first woman said, “we only got one living male.”
“So survivable injuries but major emotional strain.” Dr. Davis put his thumb to his chin.
“You thinking a good candidate for a trial?” The second woman asked.
“I am.” He clapped his hands.
“I’d be expensive.” The first woman put down the intake paper.
“Worth it. She doesn’t know she’s sterile yet, so I can start at the beginning. Don’t get many opportunities like that. We might be able to revolutionize the spaying process.”
The first woman shrugged. “Fine, I’ll talk to Sutton about it.”
“Perfect!” He clapped his hands together. “LaRue, you mind bringing her up with me?”
“Uh, sure. Where?” You asked, flipping the brakes on Primrose’s stretcher.
“Fourth floor, to the psych department.” He turned and walked out at a brisk pace, you struggled to keep the stretcher moving smoothly at his pace.
“Doesn’t she need, uh, care? I figured surgery would come first…” You pushed the stretcher into the elevator behind him as he hit the button.
“Hard to do proper trials when you don’t control every variable.” He watched the doors slide shut. “She’ll be treated for her injuries, just under my careful watch.”
“Alrighty then.” The doors slid open and you pushed Primrose down the hall behind Dr. Davis.
“Now, this area contains proprietary tech and treatments, so you’ll have to be rather quiet about anything you see in there.” He held his badge up to the door labeled PSYCHIATRY and it chirped its approval, popping open.
“Of course, sir.” The word proprietary triggered memories of your night shift spent in the ICU, the giant limbless fluffy hanging in the private room. You pushed the stretcher in behind him, wondering what about fluffy therapy could be worth hiding.
The psych department was a colorful place, painted with swooping stripes of peachy pinks and warm purples. The tiles were multicolored, scattered in a random seeming pattern and speckled with black and white flecks. Speakers in the corners by the ceiling played soft music and the light scent of lavender hung in the air.
“We have a few intensive care rooms down the hall this way.” He turned to the left, and you passed brightly lit windows looking over what seemed to be perfectly ordinary saferooms. “We even have a full operating theater!”
“Wow, this wing is bigger than I thought…” You pushed Primrose into a room about the size of a normal hospital room, one corner fenced off and padded with toys and a bed.
“We don’t generally let residents into this wing.” Dr. Davis started copying Primrose’s intake sheet onto a large whiteboard in the room. “Anderson said you were trustworthy, so you might be seeing more and more of this.”
“He talked about me?”
Dr. Davis nodded. “He recommended you for a place over here too, if you’d like. Not for the psychiatry, but as a ward resident. Basic medical care and cleaning, all that.”
“Oh… wow.” You stood shocked. He had spoken that highly of you? Even after you had broken hospital policy? He said everything was fine, but you assumed there would be some backlash for it. Something on your file, or even just a sense of distrust.
“Not something you need to decide now, of course. You’ve got a bit more training to do. Can you put her in the kennel? Someone will be in here soon to take a look at her and plan our next moves.”
You carefully lifted the absorbent pad under Primrose and slid it into the metal kennel, being careful not to pull on any of her IVs. There were hooks above it for the bags, and other slots for various devices.
“Wonderful, thank you.” Dr. Davis shut the plexiglass door gently and flipped the lights on in the room. “Care for a tour? Not trying to sweeten the pot or anything, but it’s a pretty-” he put a finger to his lips in a “shush” motion, “-floor.”
“Absolutely!”
He grinned, teeth perfectly straight and almost shockingly white. “Right this way!” he said, holding the door for you.
“So we try to keep some very natural, low-stress environments for our patients.” He said, showing you to the safe room windows. “So there will be some litter box scooping in your future if you decide to take my offer, but plenty of playtime too!”
“You… play with them?”
“Mm-hm! The ones that can handle physical activity that is.” He led you down the hall and past the nurse’s station. “We also have a few rooms set up for feral care, but they aren’t often used.”
He showed you the other treatment rooms one by one. A group care room, with wedge shaped plexiglass enclosures arranged into a horseshoe shape, therapy rooms that were somewhere between a playpen and a traditional therapists office, the feral care rooms that were styled as deciduous forest scenes with tree hollows to sleep in. Every room contained carefully disguised places to stash medical equipment and a one way mirror to observe them though. It was all to, as far as you could tell, the highest standards it could be. Better than any domestic could dream of.
“And the… actual treatment?” You asked. “I heard that you could take a fluffy out of the wan-die loop, is that true?”
“In certain situations, yes. But,” he looked over his shoulder at you, “that’s not something I can share the process of.”
“Of course, proprietary.” You’d gotten a lot of mileage with that word lately. Made you wonder how much of the hospital was “Proprietary”.
“Exactly. Anderson said you could keep a secret, so you may end up getting to see some of that treatment.” He winked at you.
Ah, the fact that you didn’t blab about Donor got you here. A test, of sorts. If you could see the weirdest thing the hospital had to offer and keep your mouth shut about it you could keep your mouth shut about other things. “That… sounds good.”
“Wonderful!” He led you out of the psych wing and back to the elevator. “You of course don’t have to make a decision now, but I think you and I could work together really well!” He pushed the call button. “I won’t be too hurt if you’d like to stick with the emergency care, don’t worry.”
“Thank you, I’ll think about it.” He waved at you as the elevator doors slid shut. The psych wing was nice, with the amount of stress the emergency department put you under it you could really enjoy a slower pace. You weren’t jazzed about the idea of having to play with the fluffies but… there was someone you could pawn that part off on. Most resident jobs ran less on assignments and more on a series of swaps and barters, I’ll clean for you if you document for me. Someone would swap a shift cleaning litter boxes for one of kicking a ball around you were sure.
The elevator doors opened again, and the din of the emergency department leaked back in. Emergency care was something you loved, but perhaps you could stretch your legs a little. It wasn’t like you couldn’t come back.
