PTFG - STUFFED Kirin

//I can't remember if this ever got posted on the thread.

//Thanks to Flotsam

//Art on the Drive Version

//https://docs.google.com/document/d/14-wud1mB-xMZBrGxbmbI-mVCb1N7M5-cJZPY8xOKvnk/edit?usp=sharing

Weed Eater was strangely sober. For a pony, even a Kirin like him, namesake was tantamount to Destiny. That meant by not being as fucked up as possible while writing for his column he was directly shirking his destiny and that would need to be swiftly rectified.

 

Alas, for the Kirin’s destiny he’d run entirely dry. After a while of searching for something he realized that the only intoxicating substance left in the apartment was in his boyfriend, Gold Spirit’s, liquor cabinet. The kirin wasn’t blessed with many talents though, and upon that short list was not making cocktails. Even if the kirin was blessed with the ability to make more than a Rum and Sparkle, or *liked* anything more than hard cider for that matter, he’d feel guilty tapping into his boyfriend’s supply while off on work duties.

 

The Kirin, distinctly unfucked up, was going to need to get creative. He ran through the tree of possibilities and decided on the best outcome for getting fucked up and having a good time tonight.

 

He'd slip on his favorite hoodie from the couch, take on a few bits from the change jar, and bask in the warmth for a moment before slipping out into the Chill Manehatten air.

 

Flotsam was already kind of baked when she'd heard the knock on the side of her van, the sound of her bong quickly going silent as she moved to open the door.

 

"Oh hey, nice haircut, Flots." The kirin would raise a green hoof, pointing at his own mane and causing the pizza to jostle.

 

"sina pona" Flotsam would respond.

 

"Oh- uh- pona… kama… kama pona" The kirin would comedically scrunch his snoot as he struggled to respond to the mare.

 

“sina pona" The mare would repeat.

 

"mi- uh- mi pona - uh the- punk- sama. It’s- uh a pona trottingham… style."

 

The mare would look to the pizza on the kirin's back, kind of amused by their broken attempt at speaking the constructed language, "Did someone die, or are you wanting to get high together?"

 

"Uh- yeah, I’ve run entirely dry, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to spare would you?" The kirin would say, more for politeness than the as he looked at the bong-adjacent mare.

 

Flotsam would roll her eyes at the formal display of the kirin, digging open the van’s cabinets, "How fucked up do you want to get?"

 

"I mean- my name's Weed Eater. Unless there's something really fucked up in it I should be fine."

 

"Well, this has something pretty fucked up in it." The milkmare-colored pony would grab a box of brownies. The Branding, STUFFED, in a cute graffiti font, wasn't immediately recognizable as a parody of any specific brand. Quite an oddity for edibles.

 

"Illegal fucked up?"

 

"Magical fucked up." She'd shake the box teasingly.

 

"Eh- why the fuck not, I'm a bit too sober right now." The kirin would take a seat on the mare's couch and set the pizza on the floor.

 

The mare would close the lid and throw him the box, letting him barely catch it in his magic, "Oh wow, you've been tearing into these."

 

"They're great to share with friends. When's your boyfriend getting back, again?"

 

"Oh- he should be back in Manehatten in a few weeks, hopefully."

 

"I'd start with half of one, then."

 

The kirin would be kind of confused by her question and response, but was eager enough to get baked that he ignored the pretty obvious warning signs, taking a brownie out with his magic and half unwrapping it to take a bite.

 

Flotsam would move to take a seat next to the kirin, dragging her bong next to him, "So, how's it taste?"

 

"Would it break the stereotype to say I'm not normally a fan of brownies? But man, this really does just melt in the mouth- you can't even taste the weed in this." He'd happily take another bite of the bar.

 

"It doesn't contain any weed specifically, just something brewed up to help make anxious ponies a bit more fuzzy in the head."

 

"Bit more fuzzy in the head-" The kirin would muse, scratching at the side of his mane with a hoof, quickly finding it a bit difficult as his hoof slightly squished against his face.

 

The mare next to him would return to her bong, taking a long hit, skillfully expelling the smoke without any trouble, the two would be content to share the silence for a moment as she subtly watched him, waiting for the moment it'd happen.

 

"I'm glad you finally got your cutie mark."

 

"Cutie Mark?" The kirin would ask, pretty confused, looking back at his flank, "Kirin don't- what?" Emblazoned on the Kirin's flank was, indeed, a cutie mark of the graffiti STUFFED logo, "Oh- that's weird."

 

The kirin would reach back to poke at it with his hoof, feeling the normal texture of his fur, "Is this normal?"

 

"Normally it's slower, but I guess the lack of a cutie mark lets it work faster."

 

"Is this how cutie marks normally feel?" The kirin would keep poking at the mark, feeling a spreading tingle from his flank to hoof.

 

He'd casually take another bite from the brownie as the tingling began to spread down across his flank, "Celestia, this is something to write about… where did you end up finding this?"

 

"You know Riot Charge?"

 

"Uh- not sure I'd trust her stash."

 

"She did the box art for a Mare."

 

"Not sure if that's better or worse." The kirin would mumble, going back to poking at his new cutie mark while nibbling on the Brownie.

 

"Relax, Weed, they're pretty safe. Made by a local mare named Twisted. Wouldn’t share something with you I haven’t tried."

 

"Twisted… wonder if that’s the same I knew…" The kirin wouldn't exactly be listening anymore as he now began to get lost in memories.

 

He only snapped out of it when he realized that he was sinking a hit, the texture of his plot was transforming, rapidly taking on a plush texture that began to fold under his weight. The would feel kind of queasy as he pushed his hoof into his thigh and felt it sink into cottony plush, rubbing his hoof along the seam that formed along his thigh, "I-I think I need some water."

 

He'd try to stand up, although his back legs would crumple, causing him to fall onto the floor, his magic cutting out and letting the box and brownie drop.

"What's wrong, cotton-mouth?" The mare would tease, pulling herself and her bong down onto the floor next to the plushifying kirin.

 

"Th-this isn't funny." The kirin would squeak.

 

"Yeah it is, nothing more funny than watching a friend turn into really stoned fluff." She'd lean against the kirin, causing his back end to squish like a pillow… because he practically was a pillow.

 

"Maybe it is a bit funny…" The kirin would admit, looking at his plush front hoof, rolling it around and inspecting the seam that'd creeped up beneath his hoodie, and the shrinking fetlocks that revealed the hard keratin of his hoof had been replaced by plush.

 

The mare would lean more of her weight onto the kirin, causing a weird shifting sensation inside him as his stuffing was pushed around, causing him to let out a sigh.

 

"I'm gonna have to try this with Golden…" The kirin would mumble, weakly blinking as the fuzz really began to fill up his head.

 

"Well if you use a plug beforehand you can… actually, probably better to discuss that when you're sober." The mare would pat the kirin's transformed flank.

 

"Whuh do yu-" The kirin would feel his mouth literally filling with cotton, pushing up from his throat.

 

The mare would turn, pushing his muzzle closed, "Gotta keep all your stuffing in."

 

The kirin would blink again, thoughts quite a bit slower now that his brain was entirely replaced by cotton. He'd try and mumble through the seam that replaced his mouth, "mmmm??"

 

"Everything's going to be okay." The mare would forcefully pat the side of the kirin's head, the lack of skull would let her hoof sink into the fluff that now composed his consciousness.

 

"Mmmm." The kirin would try to close his tingling eyes, but found they were stuck open as his eyelids had entirely disappeared at this point, leaving the felt of his vision exposed to the dim light of the van.

 

The mare would continue to take hits from the bong, opening up the pizza and taking a slice as she leaned against the barely cognizant kirin. A little bit of grease means that the kirin would probably need a wash, but she could drop him by a laundromat.

 

He'd probably enjoy it in this state anyway, actually there was little he wouldn't enjoy. She'd have a few days of fucking around with him before it'd wear off at least, and she'd probably spend a bit of time with her friend. She’s sure the plush kirin would probably enjoy being dragged to a park, maybe a movie or two. As the night began to drag on and the pizza began to disappear, the mare would actually begin to drift off from the mix of drugs and comfort, leaning on the side of the kirin. “Plush- uh- plush… day tomorrow…” The mare would mumble, well past the point of being able to form coherent puns.