Fluffy Pony Shelter: The Condemned

>work at one of the city's fluffy pony shelters

>it's a decent job, pay isn't that bad, customers and co-workers are tolerable, and as an unfeeling bastard whose seen much worse things you're not bothered by what goes on in there

>like many shelters around the country, yours is a bit overcrowded

>so many fluffies are dropped off here, and those are the lucky ones that weren't tossed out into the streets and left to die

>there's a sizable population of stray and feral fluffies in your city, which breed like rabbits, so you also get plenty of them from sympathetic people who found them

>this makes overcrowding in the shelter worse

>the shelter has a couple of solutions

>first and foremost is to hold a big sale on fluffy ponies and fluffy pony accessories(beds, food, toys), where dozens of customers get floored by the lower prices and buy fluffies and fluffy-related things up like they're going out of style(no refunds or returns)

>you still get some of the fluffies back though, after they are found on the streets

>the second option to euthanize some fluffies to make room

>some critics, the general public, and even some of the newer shelter volunteers, think fluffies who get put down are mostly the unwanted and the "unadoptable"

>it's a lot more complicated then that

>for most of the ones sentenced to death, it is a mercy to them: those who are too old, sick, or badly mauled are put down

>the last category is ironic, since in some commercials for shelters featured fluffies with bad injuries such as one or both eyes missing, all four legs amputated, one or both ears gone, all teeth pulled out, vocal cords removed, tails chopped off, etc.

>it's better to end their lives rather than prolonging their suffering

>ever since the red earth fluffy known as Ruby was euthanized, policy has been that fluffy ponies who have been psychologically destroyed are out too

>the majority of fluffies who survive abuse and other horrific and unspeakable things tend to react in different ways: some outwardly normal but suddenly cry for no reason at random intervals, some are wary or afraid of humans, others try to keep a sunny disposition, or in the case of the younger or truly lucky ones, don't remember it at all

>since they're around both caring humans and fluffy friends who give lots of hugs, some shell-shocked fluffies do recover

>but a small percentage never recover emotionally: the suffering they endured shatters their joie de vivre and give up all hope; they remind of your cousin, who served two tours in Afghanistan and came back home from the second one without his right arm and a case of PTSD.

>the look in his eyes, the look of a broken soul who had seen many of his comrades die and some of the worst humanity had to offer, that look of being utterly defeated and tired(that might have been a result of insomnia), it made you thank God that there is no draft

>but while your cousin is slowly but surely recovering due to a combination of therapy, medication, and support from family and friends, fluffy ponies have no such options

>the only "therapy" for fluffies is introducing them to loving humans and other fluffies

>how the fluffy mind reacts to medication is poorly understood by all but the most experienced vetenarians and the scientists who originally created them(they're pretty silent on this), and can have nasty side effects or kill them outright

>although it was thought to work back then, resetting the traumatized fluffies is not an option: it is unreliable, as reset fluffies can and often do suddenly gain their original memories back(for example, a fluffy eats spagetti that tastes like how his old owner used to make it and is reminded of it) and suffer a complete emotional breakdown, and as such is considered to be excessively cruel

>finally, aside from mercy killing unfortunate fluffies, shelter policy is to put down fluffies with severe behavioral problems, the true "unadoptables"

>these consist of fluffies who are loud, annoying, bossy, or in extreme case those who actively attack other fluffies and even humans, much like a fight dog.

 

>tragically they do include the traumatized abuse surviors mentioned above, but more often than not they are just plain old brats and the "smarty fwends" who cling to their alpha status, even if their herd is either missing, rehabilitated, or adopted

>again, resetting is not an option for these; they either allow themselves to be rehabiliated, or they don't

 

>come into work today; do your usual thing of showing potential buyers the fluffies they can adopt and the accessories they can purchase

>things go well today and you get a modest amount of fluffies adopted and fluffy accessories sold, but before you go home you have one last thing to do

>in one of the cage rooms, there are a few boxes full of fluffies, seperated from the others for a day

>as mentioned before, they include the old, the sick, the mauled, the shattered minds, the brats, and the un-rehabilitated smarty friends

>your job is the euthanize them humanely

>no tearing their guts out, shattering their bones, or even just breaking their necks or anything like that

>you go to pick up a pair of cramped cages and boxes with a dozen or so each

>their last meal was hours ago, a plate of spaghetti for each. it's sort of like how death row inmates get a last meal and often pick something expensive like lobster

>but that's only for those who deserve any: the brats and the smarty friends get regular fluffy chow instead of spaghetti, because fuck the stupid things

>they've already either used the litter box or been squeezed for feces and urine, so you don't have to worry about getting your work clothes dirty or force the janitor to do more cleaning after they've been destroyed

>they immediately start babbling when you and the veternarian you're assisting, Dr. Sophia Fujimoto, enter the room

>Sophie is a neighbor and you've been close friends since you two were in kindergarten; she was one of those prodigy freaks of nature whose big brain carried her to college and vet school at a young age; but as neighbors you two still played together regardless and hung out together when she was studying to be a vet; she recently finished up

>you loved it when you learned that she'd be working here with you.

>you suppose the Westermark effect hit you hard, since you truly see her as a sister more than anything. Sophie feels the same. probably anyways...

>"No wike dis pwace! Wan' fwend back!" "Pwease wet fwuffy out, fwuffy be good!" "Wet fwuffy out o' fwuffy make sowwy poopies!" "Pwease no sowwy box, fwuffy sorry!" "Weggies pwease, fwuffy wan' weggies back..."

>there are three fluffies who don't say anything at all, seemingly staring at something thousands of yards away

>the demographics of the fluffies are as follows: 3 shell-shocked fluffies, 4 old ones, 5 sick fluffies, 10 mauled ones, 1 brat, and 1 smarty friend, for a total of 24 condemned fluffies.

>the old ones are around 7-8 years old, at which point they look, well, old; hairs on muzzles and mane have gone gray, ears getting floppy, lips drooping and drenched in drool, faces getting hollow, skin is sagging; they could drop dead at any time overnight and are prone to illness and arthritis

>of the sick ones: one white and purple mare is suffering from severe respritory problems from unknown causes, one pure pink filly has diabetes from being fed too much candy, one purple and green colt is suffering badly from Lyme disease, one orange and blonde filly has cancer of the lymph nodes, and one lavender and purple mare has epilepsy and has suffered multiple seizures

>of the mauled ones: 4 quadruple amputees, one totally blind, 2 without any ears, and 3 mares had their cooters glued shut by someone

>of the broken souls: one pure brown stallion witnessed his mate and his foals being eaten by stray dogs; one yellow and pink mare had been sexually assaulted multiple times by her owner; cyan and white pegasus mare had her legs and wings sliced off by her owner without anesthesia

 

>you and the vet ignore their complaints as you bring them to the room where they will be euthanized

>the room is also at the back of the shelter, but at the other end

>nobody is allowed back there besides vets and the janitor, and the occasional worker to help with the crates

>you're pretty much the only worker who doesn't start breaking down when you do this, so you're more often than not the helper

>"Whewe fwends take fwuffies?" "Fwuffy hungwy, wan' sketties!" "Wisten to smawty fwend, dummy hoomans!" "Why fwend no say anyting?" "..."

>you notice a few workers and volunteers give you and Sophie looks

>some look sad, some look a little angry, some just shrug and go back to what they were doing

>fucks given by you and the doc: 0

>you and the vet set them down in the room

>inside the room is a portable metal chamber, capable of holding all the fluffies

>you and vet open the tops of the cages and boxes and begin taking out the fluffies to put them into the chamber

>"Fwuffy no can breaf! Pwease hewp!" a lavender and purple unicorn mare cries.

>you pick her up first and let her catch her breath

>"F-fank *pant* you... fank you *pank* fo' save fwuffy..."

>your vet friend chuckles, "Don't worry fluffies, you're staying in a new room where you can breathe allllll you want."

>"Weawy?! Fank you, you nice hooman!" the mare squeeks as you place her in the chamber. "Wha? Fwend no wan' huggies?"

"Not right now."

>Sophie loves to joke around with these things

>she's not an abuser though; unlike you she actually feels bad for them, and this is her way of coping

>then again she's always been a bit of a clown who laughs at dead baby jokes...

>she picks up an pure black unicorn stallion

>"Put smawty down! Hewp, hewp smawty fwend!" he shouts to his "herd" as he struggles

>"Aaaah, little fluffy. Here, I'll put you down" Sophie says as she places him in the chamber on his back

>she giggles as the idiot smarty friend yells "Nuuuu, hewp smawty pwease! Smawty upsigh down, pwease hewp!", the imbecile not realizing that he can just roll over

"Heh..."

>"Hey! Finally you show some emotion, Anon."

>you make a face of stone that would make the late Buster Keaton proud. "What? No I didn't. I coughed."

>"Anon, you're a terrible liar."

"So are you."

>the process of moving the fluffy ponies is repeated will be repeated until the cages are empty

 

>the babbling has been similar to everything you've heard in all the previous euthanizations you've done

>"New home fo' fwuffy?" "Fwuffy no fewl good, fwuffy stiww sicky-poo..." "Whewe fwuffy? Fwuffy tummy woud, fwuffy hung'y!" "New daddy? Wuv daddy!" "Gif eyesies back pwease! Dawk!" "..." "Wingie fwend pwetty! Wingy fwend huwt when wingy fwend faww frowm heaven?" "Wha? Huggies?"

>now there's one last fluffy, a dark blue and white unicorn mare, left in your cage

>she's one of the bratty fluffies; due to her loud and demanding behavior she hasn't been adopted since she was dropped off here 6 months ago

>you're honestly surprised one of the newer volunteers didn't already strangle her, and that it took this long for her to be put to sleep

>she has an aggressive stance, cheeks puffed out, stamping her hooves, and barking threats

>"Fwuffy wan' sketties now! Dummy hooman gif sketties o' fwuffy get mad!"

>she's a little sour that she got plain ol' chow while her friends got spaghetti, it seems.

>you shake your head she struggles and squeaks in your grip. she manages to bite your finger.

>it feels more like the time your baby nephew tried to eat your finger than anything painful though

>drop her on her ass in the chamber. she'll live.

>"Owwies! No huwt fwuffy! Fwuffy huwt meanie hooman back!"

>Sophie places one legless fluffy, a pure green pegasus colt who was purchased amputated by his owner and then found in a shoebox on the streets, and shuts and locks

>you can see inside it from a window

>aside from the brat and the shell-shocked, all the fluffies, even the now-upright smarty friend, have settled in and are doing ordinary fluffy things

>playing hide-in-plain-sight-n-seek, playing tag, chattering to each other, giving hugs, taking a nap, calling out to you and Sophie, asking where they are, exploring the chamber

>there's even a pair giving "special huggies" to each other in the corner,

>well, beats dying as a virgin you suppose, but seriously, yuck

"Ewww... Alright doc, let's do this. The Daily Show is on in less then an hour."

>"Of course, Anon. Come on, you have to admit it's adorable."

"Sure, and Space Jam is a masterpiece."

>"Hey, hey! Don't give me that crap Anon, you know you loved Space Jam as a kid."

>you and the vet fiddle with the chamber's controls as you chat and trade good natured banter

>bratty fluffy is knocking her hooves against the chamber door

>"Wet fwuffy out! Fwuffy gif boo-boos to meanie hoomans!" the brat shouts

>the chamber is ready

>what the doomed fluffies don't realize is that the chamber has a limited amount of oxygen

>there are nozzles inside that will pump in carbon dioxide

>this is cheaper and faster than injecting dozens of fluffies with fatal doses of barbiturates

>plus, they get to spend their last moments being merry with their fellow fluffies

>the nozzles have been activated

>a lower dose of C02 is let loose

>this will have a similar effect to a heavy painkiller to relax them

>it doesn't take long for a noticeable effects to appear

>"Yaaaawn... fwuffy sweepy..." "Zzzzzz..." "Fwuffy feew good..."

>"Waaaah... fwuffy nee' bweak..." "Wha? Why stop spesha hugs, no stop!" "Dunno... pee-pee soft, fwuffy tie-ya..." "Why boy fwuffies aww-ways faww asweep... when gif speshaw huggies..."

>Sophie snickers at the last two as the copulating couple ceases their consumation

>you mess with the knob of the air tank and pump in more carbon dioxide after giving the fluffies a few minutes

>at a medium dosage, the toxic air beings to knock the fluffies into unconsciousness; any fluffy that wasn't sleeping by now is down now

>Sophie just sighs sadly as the oxygen in the chamber runs out

"You could turn around, you know."

>"..."

>after two minutes of knocked out fluffies, you raise the CO2 saturation to high

>one by one, the chests of the sleeping fluffies stop rising and falling as their lungs and hearts fail from the toxic, oxygen-free air

 

>give them another minute to ensure their death

>a check afterwards reveals that all twenty-four fluffies are have perished. good.

>you've had fluffies that managed to somehow survive this before; you wouldn't wish that sort of near-death experience on anyone

>okay, you'd wish it on your brother, but seeing how he's already dead...

>you and Sophie place them in a freezer in the same room so that the bodies can be disposed of tomorrow.

>she's pretty quiet throughout. you may not feel anything towards these stupid creatures, but you understand how people could be upset by what they go through. especially abuse survivors, who go through so much only to die like this

>you leave the chamber door open to let it air out. the janitor will come in to clean it soon

>ten minutes later, work is done, and you and Sophie walk to the parking lot, with you escorting her to her Honda

>you've made small talk with her, but she still seems down

"Hey... will you be alright?"

>"Yeah..." she doesn't seem so sure. "I just feel... I just need a drink is all."

>you place a hand on her shoulder, getting her to look at you

"Tell you what... How about I go get the beer and go over to your place. You can order pizza, and we can get totally wasted. See those critters off in our own way. The weekend is tomorrow after all," you say.

>"Really? Don't you have a show to watch tonight...?"

"Eh, Jon Stewart can wait. You're waaaaay more important to me than some funny guy. What do you say, Sophie? Come on, getting drunk off your ass on your own just isn't right."

>"...Okay. Great! It's a date then. ...Erhm, not literally, but you know what I mean. Thanks Anon" she says, sounding and looking more cheery at the prospect

>dat smile and dem teeth

"No problem Sophie. Alright, you get going and I'll see you in ten minutes. Remember, large meat lovers for me."

>a fistbump and a tight hug, as you two always have done, before she climbs in her car and drives off. you go to your own ride.

>let's see... she isn't picky, so what sort of booze should you get?

 

resources used:

http://www.alysion.org/euthanasia/

http://nwco.net/0531-stepthreelethaltoolsandtechniques/5-4-0-CarbonDioxideChamber.asp

http://www.wildlifedamagecontrol.net/co2chamber.php

last but not least, my own experiences at an animal shelter, exaggerated for dramatic purposes