Artie's Fluff Shack! [IsItTru]

Clint whistles a happy tune as he strolls down the sidewalk early one Tuesday morning. He had quit his job yesterday after realizing he had endless amounts of time and money for the sake of this story, and he was already enjoying his time off.

Just a few blocks from his house at the end of Birch Street, a new pet store had opened up. He decided to go do some window shopping to start his day and figured the new place nearby was a great place to start. It was different from your average pet store though. It advertised a brand new bio-toy that hit the market about a week ago.

He throws his empty coffee cup into a nearby recycling bin before turning the corner onto the street where this new pet shop opened. The morning sun glares brightly into Clint’s eyes. He raises his hands to block out the excess light, walking for only a few moments before seeing a few bright red balloons tied around small flashy wooden signs. He squints against the sunlight and looks upward at the new clean wooden letters that made up the pet store’s front sign.

“Artie’s Fluff Shack”


A small bell strung up above the door happily jingles into the air as Clint enters the shop. Except, it wasn’t the shop. Instead, it was a tiny waiting room with a total of 4 chairs lining the neatly painted wall leading to the rest of the shop. Paintings of what looked like colorful balls of fluff hung neatly against the walls and the sound of gentle piano music quietly played from somewhere within the room.

Surprisingly, he was the only customer there! Even if it was barely 6am and the shop just opened 30 seconds ago! You would think at least A FEW other people would be here. Clint simply shrugs it off as a lucky coincidence as his gaze lands on a large welcome sign that hung on the wall facing the front door.

Welcome to Artie’s Fluff Shack!

Before you trot into the shop, please read one of our happy brochures explaining the rules of entry to ensure the safety and well-being of our guests and our happy little friends!

Clint looks around the small room once more before taking one of the paper bills from the wall and sitting in one of the small comfy chairs leaning against the wall. He unfolds the brochure and begins reading the brightly colored text within.

-Please be as quiet as a mouse! No need for tippy tappin’, just try to keep your voice a bit softer inside so you don’t spook nothin’!

-Keep it to a walk, not a trot! No running in the store!

-No outside food, or beverages, are allowed into the shop at any point. NO EXCEPTIONS!

-Please don’t feed any of our fluffy friends! Ask one of our ranch’ hands inside if you’d like to give one a treat!

-No cussin’ in the store! Swearin, cursing, or any form of “bad” words a frowned upon past this point! No exceptions!

-Please ask one of our ranch hands about a play room if you’d like a more hands on bonding experience with one of our fluffy friends before making your adoption decision!

-All purchases and adoptions are final 7 days after initial transaction.

-Ask any of our ranch hands inside any questions you may have about adoption, training, or home products!

-Once you’ve finished reading this, please return it to the wall and ring the bell leading into the shop!

Clint raises an eyebrow as he looks over his shoulder toward the internal door leading into the pet shop. He just now notices the brightly colored doorbell sitting neatly against the side of the door, ready to be pushed at a moments notice. He simply grins and shakes his head as he neatly folds the brochure back up and places it where he found it. He stands and approaches the door, ringing the bell only to be met with a silent buzz against his finger. Was the bell broken or something? Maybe if he rang it again-

Suddenly the door swings open as the face of a redheaded store clerk dressed in a fake cowboy uniform greets him from inside.

“Hey there sugar! Welcome to my little cozy ranch! Assumin since you’re a ringin, you read all the little rules!”

Clint happily nods, unable to properly form a sentence suddenly in the moment. He was distracted by the beautiful store clerk that was now ushering him into the shop. Without a word, he feels his lets walking his body step by step into the colorful and… Noisy shop within.

She gives him the rundown of products, a quick tour of the shop, and a little pat on the back before making her way back behind the register sitting at the store front. Clint, having been too distracted by the way the clerks curly red hair bounced when she walked, didn’t hear a single word she had said to him. He had nearly forgotten why he came here in the first place! He had to talk to the clerk girl more, but how?

Over the course of the next 40 or so minutes, Clint paced the small isles of the little shop’s merchandise, making sure to grab every item a new pet owner could possibly need for their new friend, and then some. Every time he’d bring something up to the front, he had an excuse to strike up a little conversation with who he came to find out was “Artie”, the owner of the store!

Once he had run out of things he could bring to the front, he figured it was finally time to pick out his new friend. Hell, maybe he’d pick 2. Everything needs a friend, right? Clint ponders this as he makes his way back to the cash rack, and Artie’s smiling face. She was growing a bit fond of this goofy guy that wondered into her shop.

“Well sugar, you need anything else today?”

Clint blushes as he looks over the rather large pile of neatly stacked items waiting for him at the counter.

“Well shucks Artie, I’m gonna need a friend to go with all this stuff ain’t I?”

Artie can’t help but let out a laugh at Clint’s cheesy Texan impression. She nods her head to the side, motioning for Clint to follow her as she leads him through another door behind the counter. This door, however, was locked and covered in a soft foam edge to edge. The second the door opened though, Clint’s eyes and ears were filled with sounds and sights he had never witnessed until this very moment.

Small pens, big ones, open ones, closed ones! Some filled with many, some filled with few! Some with single occupants, and some with more to come! Artie gave Clint a full tour and explanation about every kind of fluffy pony that filled the room around them. From colors to kinds, fronts to behinds! Foalhood to Fluffhood, the good and the bad! She even showed off a few mummahs and dads!

Clint looked around at the multitude of colors and breeds of fluffies that filled the room around him. It was almost making it hard for him to think with the multitude of chirping and babbling going on around him, but his curiosity kept him touring around the adoption room. Among the crowd of fluff and noise around him, his eyes suddenly fall on something special.

He grabs Artie’s attention, asking for for a chirping foal from the incubation pen that hung against the wall. Tiny nubs on it’s back and a tiny bump on it’s naked forehead identified it as an Alicorn, and a tiny bump on it’s underside also showed it was a male. The foals in this pen were the highest quality Artie’s shop had to offer. Certified purebreds with documented bloodlines going back nearly 10 generations. All they have known, since even in the smallest moments before their conception, was love and perfection.

The only hiccup was the age of the Foals. They had just been born two nights before the store’s grand opening. They still needed to be bottle fed, and their tiny naked bodies lacked any sign of what color they were going to grow into. This one however, caught Clint’s eye over any of it’s tiny wiggling pen-mates for one reason above all else. On it’s flank, just above it’s back left leg, a tiny silver mark was forming in the shape of a crescent moon. Oh yes. This one was perfect.

Artie marks the foal with a tiny sticker on it’s backside as Clint turns his attention to a smaller pen hanging just below the first one on the wall. Artie called this pen the “Grab Bag”. Inside wiggled a gaggle of newborn foals, just as young as those in the pen above them. The difference being these are simply random and ordinary foals. These were the foals of mothers who couldn’t care for them, abandoned them, or runts that simply wouldn’t survive with their litter-mates.

Most of these foals in this second pen however, were simply the newborns of the ordinary or common colored fluffies under Artie’s care. Most of them had only known the touch of Artie’s care since the moment of their birth.

Clint scans over the case for a few minutes until a foal finally grabs his attention. A tiny foal, much smaller than many of it’s other pen-mates, wiggles and quietly peeps from the back corner of the incubation pen. It wiggles it’s tiny underdeveloped body and helplessly attempts to flail it’s even tinier legs, away from any of the other foals. Is it trying to get away for some reason? Wait… No… It’s not trying to escape anything. It almost sounds like it’s actually looking for something.

That’s when Clint notices the other naked newborns around it. The closest ones to it seem like they’re trying to wiggle away from it. They look as though they get incredibly uncomfortable around it when they get to close.

“Ah, that poor little thing. She has a case of advanced runt sickness. She’ll grow out of it before she’s even old enough to walk by herself, but none of my mare’s would get within 5 feet of her. Even her litter-mates seem to avoid her like the plague.”

Clint nearly jumps from his skin as Artie gives him the run-down of this particular tiny foal. A runt born from an abuse rescue Artie picked up a year ago. Her mother, a muted yellow earthie mare with a bland pink mane and tail, took to mating with any male that would let her any chance she got as a coping mechanism after arriving to the shop. Most of her litters wouldn’t survive to birth, but this last batch almost seemed to break the cycle. 4 healthy foals, and 1 runt. This time however, the foals mother passed during birth.

Since Artie gave the common adult fluffies community free time during the day, there was no telling exactly who the father could be. It didn’t take long for Artie to scoop the newborn foals up and throw them into the incubation pen. Clint didn’t need to hear another word. He wanted that foal.

Upon further inspection, the runt was discovered to be a tiny female. No discerning marks or signs of what color it may be. A simple, smaller than average runt.

Clint watches as Artie prepares the foals to be boxed up. She starts by administering a tiny drop of special “Night Night” formula to the foals mouths via a small plastic syringe. Once They’re asleep, she carefully wraps tiny elastic diapers around their underside, double checking that they’re completely secured around their tiny rear-ends before gently bundling them in their own tiny personal safety blankets.

Once they’re safely and securely swaddled, Artie gently pushes a tiny pacifier into each of their tiny little mouths before carefully placing them into the padded carrier Clint had picked out earlier. A rubber safety carrier a bit on the larger side, it would act as a good pen for future carrying needs. Padded with removeable foam floor pad and wall panels, it was perfect for Clint’s current needs.

After ringing up the incredibly expensive purchase and adoption fees, Clint pays with cash and his phone number before carrying his massive bundle of fluffy gear and his two new friends back to his place. Great day of… WIndow… Shopping…

“God damn it.”


[This is a backstory post to a new series I’m currently working on. I’ll link the new stories here as I post them. Thank you for reading!]

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Those foals are already dead.

The story seems interesting, but Clint’s text is hard to read because of the color

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