//------------------------------//
// Wednesday and Thursday 
// Story: The New Foal Institution 
// by Penguifyer 
//------------------------------//

Wednesday, Sam asked Job to sweep a whole floor of residential rooms in the west wing.
“Also, if you see an empty water glass or bowl, fill it.”
Job paused. “Bowl?”
“Some new foals don’t have enough coordination to pour themselves a glass of water, let alone hold one. We give them bowls instead. They’ll be on their nightstand.”
Job shrugged. He shouldn’t be surprised anymore.
Doing as he was told, Job swept each room, making sure to reach every nook and cranny he could. Wherever he found an empty glass, he filled it. Where there was an empty bowl, he also filled it.
Most of the ponies stayed in bed, not acknowledging his presence. A couple of them waited in bed and nuzzled him when he stepped a bit too close.
Three-quarters of the way through, he stepped into the room of a female pony with dark purple fur and a light blue mane and began to sweep.
“Hey there, cutie,” giggled a soft voice behind him.
Job jumped and turned around, staring at the pony.  “W-what?“
The pony laughed. “I’m just fucking with you. It’s not like I get many visitors here, anyway.”
“Oh, okay…” Job replied, scratching his head. “I’ll keep doing what I’m doing then.”
“Wait.” She sat up, sliding the covers off of her back. “Can I ask a favor?”
Job raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Come over here.”
Job walked to the bed.
“Sit down.”
He sat on the bed.
She stood up, her legs trembling, and laid her head down on his lap.  “Rub my neck and back.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” 
Job took his hand and stroked her back.
She nodded.
He felt her barrel rise and fall with her breathing as she smiled and her ears relaxed. Her disheveled fur glided across his hands, soft to the touch. Something about it all felt off. He was treating her like a pet, but he knew she was human, at least mentally.
“Can I ask you something?” Job said, looking out the window.
“Shoot.”
“What’s so good about petting and cuddling, especially for you guys?”
“If your crush was in this room and asked to cuddle, I guarantee you’d do it.”
“Well, um…”
“Told you,” she laughed. “Physical affection is normal and everyone likes it, but there’s another side to it with us.” She rolled over on her side as Job shifted his hands to her barrel and belly. “I’ve heard that the serum used to make new foals was designed to heighten their anxiety while simultaneously increasing the response to physical affection. I guess it was some failsafe to stop them from being independent, even if they got their minds back.”
“Sam said it’s because new foals don’t feel like they’re in their own bodies.”
She shifted on to her back as Job rubbed her belly. “It’s more like being in a completely foreign body you don’t understand. The petting does help with making it more familiar over time. It could be worse, though.” She squirmed for a second before relaxing again. “If I remember correctly, new foals were more ‘preachy’ prior to Equestria getting bombed. Once it got bombed, they kinda dumbed down to what they are now. I’m just glad I’m still me.”
Job ran his hands up to her neck signaling her to stretch it out. “You’re surprisingly content with this.”
“Who doesn’t like getting loved on?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Hey, if it makes you feel better, this body is so foreign to me that I haven’t thought about sex in months.” Her smile faded. “I don’t really know how I feel. For one, I’ve lost my body and can barely get out of bed.”
“Barely get out of bed?”
She sighed. “My brain was wired to use a human body, not this one. It’ll take years of physical therapy before I can move like I used to. Regardless, I miss my old body, even though all I used to do is sell it.”
Job stopped rubbing for a second, taken back from her comment.
She squirmed. “Don’t stop. I need it.”
“Sorry,” Job complied, stroking her back as she turned onto her stomach.
She squirmed for a second before relaxing again. “I hit rock bottom back then. I was addicted to a bunch of shit and completely out of touch from my responsibilities. Then one night, some guy slipped something into my drink and this happened.”
She stayed silent for a minute as Job continued to rub her. Soreness grew in Job’s hands.
“Whenever I think about it, I remember what Sam told me when I woke up like this: ‘I can’t say shit happens for a reason, but I do think good can come out of shit.’”
She paused for a second, resisting a tear as her ears drooped. “When I was young, I used to wanna be a singer. Now, I guess that’s the only thing I have left.”
Job’s arms burned from the rubbing. “You good? My hands are a bit tired.”
She smiled. “Sure.”
Job slipped out from under her and hopped off the bed. Finishing his sweeping duty, he stepped to the door.
“Um, can I ask you something?” she asked.
Job stopped. “Yeah?”
“You’re only gonna be here for a week, right?”
“Yup.”
She raised her head. “Can you visit me before you leave? It gets a little lonely here.”
“Sure, name’s Job, by the way.”
She smiled. “Madalene.”
Job waved as he stepped out the door. Once through, he leaned against a wall and stared at his hands. Something about petting her bothered him. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it wasn’t the act itself that disturbed him. He just couldn’t pinpoint what it was that did.


— — — 


Upon arriving on Thursday, Sam told Job to wait in the lobby with Blue Wing while he answered a call. Stepping into the lobby, Sam called out to Blue, his normally cheerful voice now stern. “Get the gear, we gotta move.”
“On it,” she nodded and darted out of the room.
Sam turned to Job. “One of our guys is sick today. We’ll need your help too.” He then marched outside as Job followed suit.
Blue stood next to the car, pushing a duffle bag into the back seat with her forelegs. Once in, she climbed into the front seat along with Sam, forcing Job into the back.
Throughout the ride, no one uttered a word. Sam remained focussed on the road as Blue tapped her hoof on the door. Job watched Blue’s ears shift and adjust to the sounds of passing cars, as if she was alert.
They arrived at a construction site on the outskirts of a small town. Dozens of workers stood around a large depression in the ground, presumably, none of them within twenty feet of it.
They parked next to an ambulance and police. As Sam, Blue, and Job got out of the car, Blue opened up the bag and handed Job a gas mask. “Just in case,” she noted, grabbing two for herself and Sam. Job’s hands shook when he held his.
A police officer approached them. Job met called to him. “What’s the situation?”
“Gas canister. They say they evacuated immediately after it ruptured, but lost a man in the process.”
A scream echoed out of the depression, catching everyone’s ear. Blue tossed a gas mask to Sam as he turned and assessed the situation. “How long ago did it go off?”
“Thirty-ish minutes ago. Paramedics arrived within twenty and are currently still in there.”
“It should’ve dissipated by now, but give it another thirty minutes for good measure. Contact poison control and the DNR and EPA, too. The clean up shouldn’t be too bad, but they know what they’re doing with this. Be glad it’s not raw serum. That shit’s hard to get out of the ground.”
Sam strapped the gas mask onto his face and nodded to Blue, who already had her mask on. She extended her wings and thrust them toward the ground, shooting up into the sky. Dancing around the sky, she swooped over and around the depression. Job gazed up, both confused and amazed.
“Never seen a pegasus fly before?” Sam teased.
“Not really.”
“Not surprised. It’s one of those details they don’t mention when they talk about Equestria these days. Get your mask on, by the way.”
Job nodded, strapping the mask to his face.
Blue swooped down and hovered above Sam and Job. “He’s in the middle of the hole with a couple paramedics. I can’t make out any lingering gas from up there.”
“We’ll keep our masks on just in case,” commanded Sam. He waved for Job to follow him and the two of them approached the depression. A male pony with grey fur and white hair squirmed in the center, a construction outfit still draped over him. Two paramedics with gas masks stood beside him, trying to restrain him. Beside them rested a metal canister with a small rupture in its side, a pink biohazard symbol shining in the sunlight.
“Get… out… my head,” the pony grunted, squirming around while bashing his head into the ground. A paramedic tried to grab his head, but the pony swung a hoof at him.
Sam and Job crawled in the depression and walked up to the pony, yelling at the paramedics. “Back up!”
The paramedics stepped back. “He keeps lashing at us,” one of them responded. “We’re about to sedate him.”
Sam stopped next to them with Job behind him. “That’s the worst thing you could do.”
“How come?”
“If he falls asleep, he’ll lose his mind.” He pointed in a circle around the pony. “Get around him, I’ll need your help
Sam knelt down and placed his hand on the pony’s head. “Don’t touch me!” the pony screamed, flailing his legs around with little coordination.
Sam turned to the Paramedics. “Take your arms and place your weight on his back. Trust me on this.” He turned to Job. “You too.”
Job did as he asked, placing his forearms on the pony and pressing in with his weight along with the paramedics. Sam restrained the head and forelegs of the pony. “Shh…”
The pony kicked for a moment before settling down. His breathing remained quick as tears streamed down his eyes. “Stop… just…”
Sam turned to Job, his muffled voice cutting through the mask. “I’m gonna pick him up and throw him over my shoulder. If he starts kicking, squeeze the back of his head and neck. Just don’t hurt him, though.”
“We can grab a stretcher,” a paramedic noted.
“That won’t help, he needs to feel something.”
Sam threw the pony over his shoulder and the four of them climbed out of the depression. Twenty feet away, Sam pulled off his mask along with Job. The pony squirmed every twenty or so seconds but calmed as soon as Job squeezed him.
Blue already opened the door to the backseat, her mask also off. Job climbed into the backseat as Sam passed the pony to him. “Keep squeezing him till we get back.Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
Job nodded, wrapping his arms around the pony.
As they took off for the institution, the pony nuzzled into his chest and cried. “Make it stop… just make it stop…”
“Sh-sh-shhh…” Job rubbed the pony’s neck and back, his shirt wet from the pony’s tears.
“Get him out…” the pony sniffled. “…out of my head.”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Job squeezed as tight as he could. The pony’s breathing slowed. “Do you have a name?”
“P-pau…”
The pony flinched, clenching his muscles and grunted. Job squeezed him, restraining and calming him down.
Sam interjected from the front. “Keep squeezing him. It won’t get any better till we get back.”
Every couple of minutes, the pony would flare up in a fit forcing Job to squeeze him till he calmed down. As the minutes waned on, the time between each fit shortened. Job arms strained and burned from the squeezing. He couldn’t keep this up forever.
“Guys,” Job called. “I might…” The pony flared up again. “…need some help.”
“We’re almost there,” Sam assured him.
Just as Job’s burned out, they pulled into the parking lot of the institution. Two staff members—presumably nurses from the clinic due to their scrubs—stood in the lot. Once the car stopped, Job handed the pony to the nurses, who rushed him into the institution. Sam followed after them, leaving Job behind.
“You did good, kid.”
Job turned around, seeing Blue stuffing the masks back into the duffle bag before throwing it over her back. “Th-thanks… I-I…” Job stuttered.
“Spit it out.”
He turned back to the institution. “I-I never knew what happened.”
She walked out in front of him. “I think you should see what they do next. It’s worth it to see the point of all of this.”
Job paused for a second before running inside the institution. Dashing up the stairs, he slowed to a jog in the clinic. Shouting echoed through the hallway.
“Stop it! Get off of me!”
“Hold him down! We’re almost there.”
“I’m a go. Ready?”
“Yeah, whenever you’re… hold on a sec!”
Thumps and clangs reverberated through the walls as Job approached the doorway. He leaned against the wall and peeked inside.
“Get away! Let me go!” The pony wailed as Sam and the nurses strapped him onto the table, restraining him the best they could.
“Go for it,” commanded Sam as the nurse pressed a button on the side of the bed. “Give us a hand.”
The three of them pressed their weight on the pony. A low hum filled the room as wheels on the machine started to rotate. Blue light emanated from the coils, causing the pony to flail and fidget.
The pitch of the hum raised; the blue light intensified. A loud release and a wave of something blasted out of the bed and through Sam. His balance faltered for a second before he shifted his feet and looked back up.
The pony laid on the bed panting while one nurse leaned against the wall and the other sat down. Sam knelt in front of the pony, grabbing his head. “Shh, it’s over now.”
“It’s… over?” the pony whimpered.
Sam stroked the pony’s mane. “Yes, yes it is. You can rest now.”
“Over…” the pony muttered, easing his breathing.
“Can you tell me your name?” Sam whispered.
“Name… Paul,” the pony whispered back, nearly passing out.
“Thank God, let's get you to a bed.” Sam picked up the pony and carried him out of the room.
Job slumped onto the floor as Sam passed him. His legs jittered while he sat, trying to process the events from the day.
“He’ll be okay.” Blue assured, walking next to him and sitting down.
“What do you mean by ‘okay?’ Just look at him.” Job squeezed his own legs trying to calm himself.
“He’ll wake up tomorrow angry and upset. Then Sam will walk into the room and explain what happened. Over the next couple of months, he’ll mellow out. A couple of years of physical therapy and training later, he’ll go home to his family, or whoever is willing to take him in.”
“What if we were too late? Why not do that to every new foal here?”
“You know what happens when we’re too late.” She turned her head away from Job. “As for the other question, they become comatose and die.”
Job stayed quiet, in shock from her comment.
She took a swig from a water bottle and swallowed. “You can go home if you want, I’ll tell Sam. I’d want to if I were you.”
After a minute or two, Blue stood up and walked to the lounge. Job sat alone for another minute. He had seen poverty worse than this. He had seen malnourished kids living by the dozen at orphanages. So why did this bother him so much?
Weary, he stood up, stumbled down the stairs, and trudged to his car.