As research on fluffy ponies has progressed, public understanding of the creatures has improved by leaps and bounds, making the bio-toy more polarizing than ever before. Fluffy advocates have been more active than ever, leading to fluffy rights movements gaining substantial steam, with many states increasing the protections afforded to fluffies under the law.
Abusers of every sort formed communities to organize efforts against fluffies and their advocates, sharing their exploits and plans of attack with others in the hopes of overturning these new protections and fighting back against the multicolored plague.
This is one such story.
âHewd! Wisten tu Smawty!â A crimson unicorn with a golden and black two tone mane called out.
The herd, all were fidgeting at best, and compulsively gnawing at parts of their body trying to stop their trembling and twitching at worst. Several fluffies were ripping the fluff they could reach out, while a particular stallion had a twitchy eye he was walloping with his own hoof, as if sowwy hoofsies would make muscle tremors stop.
âSpeciaw fwen! Gib dummeh see pwace sowwy poopies!â The frustrated stallion demanded of his mate.
She did as he asked, raised her tail, and shat all over the right side of his face. He signed with relief, the spasms stopping momentarily, only to become enraged then the spasms returned, beating his face even harder.
That was one such case of what the herd was dealing with. A mare had been gnawing at her hoof, chewing away the softened hoof covering, causing it to bleed excessively and deglove.
Another mare was running around in circles, convinced her tail was trying to steal the tummy sketties from her dead foal.
âSmawty knu daâ hewd Nee sketties mowe dan ebah!â The smarty did his best to keep his composure, but it was an act of will to stop the oppressive shivering he couldnât seem to shake, despite being a sunny July evening.
âBu been su many bwite times since hoomin come and gib hewd sketty. Nu can wait on dummeh hoomin any mowe!â
The herd all nodded in agreement.
âSu, since smawty am su smawty, smawty figuwe ouâ daâ onwy hoomans can make sketties! Nu can be founâ wiffout hooman making it fiwst!â
The herd became entranced by the smarty. He was smart. For a fluffy, at least. He knew that he should show confidence and strength in order to keep the herd believing in him. Especially now, as the herd was stuck with all manner of maladies, they saw him as a strong, competent, and smart leader, above the sickies lesser fluffies would suffer.
âDat am why smawty decide dat hewd neeâ gu tu hoomin town, fine hoomins, an MAKE DEM GIB SKETTIEEEEEEES!â Smarty bellowed, raising a hoof into the air.
Most of the herd was cheering and praising their dear leader for what is definitely, obviously, and objectively a genius plan.
All except one. The resident litter pal, the only fluffy deprived of spaghetti.
âBu-bu smawty, smawty say dat hoomins am bigges meanies and wowstes munstuhs, dat hewd neeâ stay way!â
âShudap, dummeh, poopie mawe, smarty nu say dat!â
Smarty did, in fact, say that. Many times. But heâd be enffed if he was gonna agree with a poopie numming dummy.
Yes, this particular smarty had survived many monsters in his 3 years of life. Flying wingy monsters of every size, shape and color, monsters that looked like barky monsters, but different colors and sizes, even a monster that looked like the biggest spaghetti noodle ever!
All of them nummed fluffies. None could be reasoned with. Heâd seen many a fluffy try to politely explain to the monsters that fluffies werenât nummies, expecting the monster to feel like a big dummy and leave, only for the fear and eating to continue uninterrupted.
His herd had eaten other fluffiest themselves. During the cold times, fluffies often have forever sleepies in the night, and as a final act of love to the herd, their flesh is consumed so the rest may live on.
But thatâs what made them different. The fluffiest were already forever sleepies when the herd nummed them. Monsters MADE them go forever sleepies first.
What made humans the worst monsters? Heâd never seen one eat a fluffy. But heâd seen them do worse. Sure, every other bright time at most, a wingy or barky monster might take a fluffy or two, but that was it. Humans? Much worse.
They hunted fluffies too, but while smarty could understand hunger, he couldnât understand why humans hunted them. They would come at any time, from any place, and give the worst hurties to fluffies, like it was fun! And not just a fluffy or two, entire families, most of a herd, or just a wandering fluffy, it didnât matter. Humans would do the scariest and most painful things imaginable. Anywhere humans and fluffy herds encountered each other, forever sleepies would soon follow.
But humans also knew the magic that made sketties. If the herd wanted it, they had no choice in the matter. Theyâd have to risk it.
âSmawty say when sky baww bwing da bwite time, hewd neeâ go tu hooman city, a fin sketties! Dawk time am tu dangewus fow fwuffies!â
âBu smawty, neeâ sketties, NAO! Am stiww bwite time! Hewd can make id!â A bold stallion declared, to roaring cheers.
âWe neeâ gu nao! Hewd, fowwow smawty!â Smarty declared as he walked towards the distant sounds of vroom vroom monsters that blocked the way from the rural area to the city.
âBu Smawty, âou say dat dawk time am to dangewus fow fwuffies!â The resident poopie chirped up again.
âShaddup, dummeh poopie, Smawty nu say dat!â Smarty did, in fact-actually say that, but, you know.
The jeers and hoof smacks from the herd silenced her and resigned her to follow the herd into hell.
They were not the only herd in search of spaghetti. Not close. Half a dozen multicolored blobs, many consisting of over a dozen fluffies, began to peek out from the tree line, some slowly making their way to the road.
Caution and craving were clashing in the heads of the herds, and finally, a smarty from another herd made the call to charge.
âHEEEWD! GU NAO! NEE WUN FASTES DAT CAN!â
All the fluffies from that particular herd began to charge(waddle) as fast as their stubby little leggies would carry them, cheering and yelling insults at the vroom vroom monsters speeding down the highway.
âWets gu tu, babbehs! Mummy hab bested sketti miwkies fow babbehs soon!â
The foals on her back began to sheer, with a snobby looking filly puffing up her cheeks.
âGud! Mummah jab wostes poopy miwkies fow tu many fowebas! Bestes neeâ bestes miwkies!â
âBestes miwkies, bestes miwkies!â The foals sang out of tune as their mother made her way to the street.
Several other fluffies followed behind and were near the road before smarty noticed. Heâd hoped theyâd wait until he could use his thinky place to come up with the bestest plan ever to get around the vroom vroom monsters, but they were determined.
âDummeh mawe! Nu wun way! Smawty neeâ tink ob pwan fiwst!â
It was too late. The mare was already in the middle of the lane, with another few fluffies behind her when the first herdâs screams could be heard.
It was carnage. More fluffies than the smartest fluffy ever could count got hit or run over by the monsters. The mare, hearing the screams, looked to her side in time to see headlights illuminate her before the world went black.
One foal managed to survive the hit, but was broken by the force of being thrown.
âM-mummahâŚ. Babbeh neeâŚâ Splat!
Screes could be heard by the other, less impulsive fluffies. They gasped in horror at the carnage.
âSee? Dat why âou WISTEN TU SMAWTY! Am da smawtiest fwuffy! Wiww fink of plan!â
He sat down on his bottom and wracked his thinky place. The monsters were far too fast, that was for sure, and there were so many of them!
He began looking around, and saw it; another road above it, like a bridge that could be crossed! There was even a walky place on it!
The lightbulb in his head went off with an excited fart from the clever stallion.
âHewd! Hewd wook! Can make wawkies up dewe! Fowwow smawty!â
As the smarty led most of his remaining herd up the hill to the overpass, he watched as small groups of fluffiest charges into traffic, desperate to cross, only to get splattered.
Many fluffies saw the smarty walking up the hill and followed.
Finally, smarty and what remained of his herd were at the overpass. As the newly formed megaherd began to cross, smarty looked down to the road below and saw a rainbow of colors and gore all over.
He saw members of his own herd get killed too, and his anger began to build.
Puffing up his cheeks, he backed up the the fence protecting pedestrians from falling, and raised his tail.
âDummeh vwoom vwoom munstuhs! Gib gud smawty hewd wowstes foweba sweepies! Taek sowwy poopies!â
A torrent of shit shot from his ass down upon the vehicles. Many fluffies had seen members of their herd killed too, and followed suit. Curtains of chunky fluffy shit began raining down on the traffic below.
Before the day was done, the gore on the road would be covered with feces, then again with a layer of gore.
Tracy was struggling financially. Her bills got more expensive, and her overtime was all but gone.
Still, she had her car, and therefore the ability to do rideshare. Or food delivery.
Tracy had picked up a Burger King order for a customer and was on her way across town to deliver it. Keeping her eye on her phone for directions, she was unaware or the fecal assault being committed just in front of her.
SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT
Poop began raining down on her, snapping her away from her phone, only to see smears of brown blocking her view.
Turning on her windshield wipers did little to clear her view, and she slammed on her brakes on reflex, hoping to slow down until she could clear her windshield of waste.
It was over in an instant. The splats on the windshield and roof of her car, screech of tires, the horn of a semi blaring behind her, then a crash, the world spinning, then another crash, and darkness.
Todd was a truck driver. A man of 56 years of age, his kids were all grown, with the youngest 2 years into college.
Trucking wasnât a perfect job, but two weeks on, two weeks off was great for a man in his position.
Not to mention he got to travel. It meant long days more often than not, but it wasnât a huge deal.
He had exited state route 18 onto state route 91 in Akron Ohio, and was about done for the day.
Whistling along to the radio, eavesdropping on the CB radio on occasion, hoping maybe a truck buddy he knew from radio communication only would begin to chatter.
Tweaking the radio, he was snapped back to the road when he heard the squeal of tires, seeing the car ahead of him slam the breaks for only an instant before a brown curtain blocked his site.
Slamming on his breaks, it took considerably more time to stop an 18 wheeler, and a good bit of distance to slow down to a stop.
He collided with the car he wasnât able to see anymore, and the trailer began to slightly lift the back of the truck it was attached to, only to jerk to the left and snapping off, rolling a few times through the ditch and into the oncoming right lane, clipping a van, and stopping finally blocking most of the oncoming left lane.
Todd went right off the road into the ditch on the right, crashing through a fence and finally coming to a stop.
Dazed and shocked, he quickly gathered himself and got out of his truck, dialing 911 as he went to check on the other driver in the car he hit. He saw her hanging motionless, held up by her seatbelt with blood running down her body and face and dripping onto the car ceiling.
Hearing more crashes, his stomach dropped when he saw his trailer in the other lanes in oncoming traffic and several vehicles colliding with each other.
Most of them had slows down enough that it was just fender benders, but there were some that had a full force collision.
Todd fell to his knees hearing the crying and yelling. He blamed himself. That was his trailer. He hit that car.
â911 whatâs your emergency?â
Todd could only cry.
âSir, I need you to talk to meâ
âŚâŚ.
âSir!â
âState route 91âŚ..â was all he could say.
Connie was heading home with her two kids and fluffy pony stallion named Copper. Theyâd met up with Connieâs husband for dinner at Olive Garden, a compromise since he had to work late that night.
âBig mummuh! Coppew neeâ make gud poopies!â
âYou just went at the restaurant, how could you need to go again?â
Connie didnât like Copper. He was her kidsâ fluffy, and they adored him, but she hated being called âBig Mummuhâ, and the thing seemed to violate conservation laws by producing as much or more shit than it ate food.
âCoopew nu kno, buâ weawwy neeâ gu!â The fluffy was squirming around in his Hasbio Fluffy Car Seat.
âYouâll just have to hold it for a few minutes, ok?â Connie had employed liberal use of the sorry stick to drive the point home, and Copper hadnât made âbad poppiesâ in 2 years(a miracle), but he was still a fluffy. âYouâd better not shit in the van again, or youâll never get Olive Garden again, you hear me?â
âC-Coppew twying, buâ poopie peace nu wisten!â He began squirming even more now. âPlease big mummuh! Coppew gud fwuffy, nu wan make bad poopies!â
Connie sighed. He was trying, sheâd give him that. An idea hit her. A shopping bag.
âAndy, Beth, can you use this shopping bag to help Copper make âgud poopies?â She asked mockingly.
âEw gross!â Andy curled his lip in disgust.
âHeâs your fluffy. Remember when you said youâd do whatever you had to to take care of him when we got him.â
âYes, I rememberâ Beth said with a sigh.
Connie. Opened her glove box and pulled out several plastic grocery bags and handed them back to the kids.
âPut the bags inside of each other to double line it.â Connie said, reaching back to had the bags to the kids. âAnd for the love of all that is holy, do NOT spi-â
She was cut off by a crash, as a semi trailer rolled into the ditch, and partly onto the road, clipping her front end, pushing her into the other lane and into a car.
The van skidded to a stop, along with the car she hit. The fluffy had of course, shit itself in fear from the crash.
âIs everyone-â was all Connie could get out before a truck collided into her.
Dazed, she could hear thumps and fluid splattering on her van as the world spun in her head.
Logan was an irl streamer. A nuisance streamer, some would call him. He would drive around and thrown things at cars. He had buckets and boxes of things in his carâs back seat, and viewers could donate to choose what to throw.
âAlright, times up, votes are in, andâŚâŚâ Jake, the driver of the car, made a drumroll sound. â itâs chirpy babbehs!â
âGasp! Nyu fwens wan pay wif mummuhs and babbeh!â Two mares in a simple box nest were excited.
Logan had told them that he wanted to play games with the fluffies and their babies and show them to his audiences. They of course, agreed when he told them that hundreds of people would be watching.
That was beyond a fluffyâs ability to comprehend, but he assured them it was a lot, and they could show the world that they had the bestest babbehs ever!
The fluffiest were mares that got knocked up against their ownerâs wishes, and were put up for adoption. Not because terminating a pregnancy was hard, but if they disobeyed once, they were likely to do it again, and fuck dealing with this several times a year.
Logan rolled down the back window, causing air to rush in.
âToo noisy fow babbehs, nu wike!â The mares complained, their foals chirping in distress.
Logan said nothing. He reached in and took a foal, gently, as to not frighten it further.
âPwease daddeh, babbeh tu widdwe fow upsies! Gib back pwease?â
Jake looked back to the boxes. âDonât worry, itâs all part of the game. Games arenât scary, theyâre fun, right?â
The boys both laughed. The fluffiest seemed calm down at this. It was true. Games were fun, and hurties werenât. Therefore, games NEVER gave hurties.
Right?
Logan had his bottom half bucked in by a missed seat belt that would allow him to partially go out the window and hurl things safely.
âBABBEH NUUUUUUUU DADDEH, PWEASE!â The mare was wailing. âTOO SCAWY FOR BABBEH!â
Logan didnât reply. He just hurled the first foal at the windshield of the cafe behind him.
âBABBEH, NUUUUUUUUUUUUU!â The mare howled as she her baby get turned to paste on the front bumper of the car behind them.
Logan wouldnât aim for the windshield. He didnât want to risk breaking someone and getting arrested again.
âHahahahahaha get fucked, bitch!â Jake laughed. âIt was actually good for something other than being an annoying chirping shit factory for once!â
The mares racket was incomprehensible, their high pitched sobbing and now desperate chirping assuring no one could understand them.
Jake turned back to face the road, and his eyes went wide.
âOh FU-â was all he could get out before colliding into a van full speed and sending rolling twice down the road.
Feces, urine, and fluffy foals were flying forward into the windshield as Jakeâs face hit the airbag.
Mangled foals lied lifeless in front of Jake. He looked back to check on Logan, only to see his eyes, wide as can be but lifeless, his body bent at an unnatural angle.
Jake passed out.
It was only a matter of minutes, but the pile ups were a huge mess of damaged bodies and metal.
Smarty puffed up his cheeks, turned around and blew a raspberry at the injured and dying.
âDummeh munstuhs!â Smarty yelled. âDesewbe foweba sweepies for huwties to hewd!â
Fluffies of all sizes, colors, and varieties made their way across the road, seeing their chance now that traffic was stopped.
The injured watched, stunned from the accident, as cheering fluffies insulted them and jeered at them.
The mega herd had made it. Now, it was time to find sketties.
Decided to break this into 3 parts for ease of reading and not writing a light novel in a single post. Hopefully breaking it up makes it feel less bloated and drawn out.