Stepping out of the room and locking it, double checking just to be safe, Marcus thinks about where he should go feral hunting for the promised fluffy friend. They’re not exactly hard to find, given that a country-ish suburb with a friendly population is a prime breeding ground for the pathetic little rats. Any old stallion will do, so Marcus decides the best place to start is out back, past the limits of their property into state-owned woodlands. This came with an unfortunate obstacle: dealing with his sister and her fluffy. Not only that, he somehow has to get a fully grown, likely not quiet, feral fluffy into the house again without being noticed. Oh well! All worth it for the potential payoff. Marcus makes his way to the back, catching sight of his sister and her fluffy now playing some poor excuse for tag right near the porch. Their property was a good size with a lot of tree cover, and obviously a very good fence to keep the fluffy safe. It took one feral trying to dig in to get their crazy military dad so angry he built a new fence himself, all metal chain link with several feet of concrete below the perimeter. Marcus may butt heads with the old man at times but he can’t help but admire the crazy man’s drive.
The sliding glass door opens and closes without much noise, Marcus making his way down the steps (being sure to not slip on the ramp they installed for the little shit pig) before his presence is finally noticed. Sam is largely indifferent, giving him a quick look before returning to her play. Not being quite content to leave things as they are, Marcus speaks up with a loud
“I think that thing is making you dumber the more time you spend with it, be careful.”
before continuing on his path as if he hadn’t said a word. Sam retorts with an annoyingly shrill “shut up”, taking offense to her precious baby being called a “thing”. Her name was Periwinkle and he’d better start using it! Marcus had to stifle a laugh as he walked off, never quite getting over how bad of a name Sam had given the thing. Beyond the rear gate were largely untouched woodlands, with the only signs of human activity being scattered dirt bike paths left there by Marcus and his friends. A two-minute walk led him to the spot he was looking for; a small mossy clearing with what remained of a small hollow beneath a large tree. This place was a hangout at one point to smoke and drink but had become considerably less desirable with time. Feral populations were increasing and often left a bit of a mess behind, to put it mildly. However, this loss of a hangout has a silver lining in the form of a prime feral hunting ground.
Before even entering the clearing proper Marcus hears what sounds like babbling and singing, exactly as he hoped. Being somewhat obscured in the shadows he surveys the scene. A blue mare with a neon green mane and tail can be seen swollen with foals, sitting comfortably in the clearing humming and talking to her unborn spawn. A mare, damn. Not very useful. But before Marcus can step out, another presence makes itself known from the nearby underbrush. An absolutely filthy stallion emerges with a large mushroom in his mouth, evidently an offering to his bloated mate. The fluffy has a grey coat and white mane, fluff matted to hell and covered in what could be shit or mud… Or both. Nice colors all things considered but the absolute last thing you’d want while trying to survive in the woods. He’ll do just fine. Marcus finally steps out into the light as the fluffies congregate, exchanging thank yous and loving coos before suddenly going dead quiet at the sound of approaching footsteps. They slowly turn to see the human that has entered their land and proceed to lose their shit. The soon mummah wails about “munstah nu huwt tummeh babbehs!” or some shit, it’s really all the same after a while.
Meanwhile, the stallion takes a semi-aggressive stance, puffing up to the best of his ability and stomping shakily at this apparent threat. Might have been commendable if he wasn’t shaking like a leaf and literally pissing himself with fear. And also if he wasn’t a fucking fluffy. With a slight sigh of annoyance, Marcus moves quickly and grabs the stallion by the scruff of his neck before he can even get a threat out. The thing immediately does a 180, belting out “SCREEEEE HUU HUUU! BA’ UPSIES! BA’ UPSIES! PWEASE NU HUWT GUD FWAFFYY!” He’s a blubbering mess, slurring his already garbled fluffspeak like a foal that just learned to talk. “So much for the man of the house.”, Marcus remarks to nobody in particular before quickly bonking the fluffy on the temple, knocking him out instantly. A neat little trick to know for such situations.
Finally, his attention returns to the mare, who is surprisingly not running and instead waddling towards him at a brisk mile per hour. She screams out amidst her sobs “PWEASE WET SPESHUW FWEND GU! HE GUD FWUFFY, BE BESTEST DADDEH! BABBEHS AN MUMMAH NEE DADDEEHHHH! HUUUUUUU~”. She trails off into more crying before Marcus swiftly stomps on her back, completely crushing her spine and causing a mini explosion of blood, guts, and almost fully developed foals to shoot out from the sudden pressure and crushing force. Truly unfortunate that the “daddeh nu mowe” missed the display, but it would be made up for in due time. Holding his filthy new fluffy at arm’s length Marcus begins to make his way back to the house.
Thankfully Sam and Periwinkle went back inside in the time Marcus spent hunting, so he quickly made his way up front around to the garage. Luck seems to be on his side today. The stallion gets the same general procedure as Lilly: wake the fucker up, empty him into the bushes, then bath time. All through the bathing process the stallion tries to yell and ask where his speshuw fwend is, but Marcus keeps a tight hold on his muzzle as he works on the body. With that painful process completed, Marcus looks into the stallion’s face very sternly and lays out the rules.
“Okay dickhead, you’ve got a new human ‘daddeh’. This isn’t up for debate, you’re never seeing your girlfriend again so get over that. But hey, I have another fluffy friend for you and she’s very excited to meet you. I need you to not cry or yell when I take my hand away, or else I’m going to give you the biggest hurties.”
He put emphasis and a bit of cartoon villain flair on that last part to strike fear into the fluffy, as these things seem to take a stern talking to very seriously. “Can I trust you to be a good fluffy and let me finish washing your fluff? This is good water that can’t hurt you as long as I’m here. Okay?” The look of terror in the eyes of the stallion changed to one of a shameful puppy, seemingly being more affected by the idea of being bad than the news of his abduction. He nods with a tremble and Marcus slowly releases his muzzle.
True to his word, the fluffy doesn’t make a peep save for whining to himself quietly as Marcus finishes off the wash. The stallion is quickly swaddled in another bit of scrap fabric that functions as a towel, getting rubbed down a bit rougher than he would have liked but largely keeping complaints to himself. Now for the hardest part of the process: getting back to his room. This stallion doesn’t strike Marcus as much of a brave or aggressive male, but he doesn’t want to chance the little shit smelling Periwinkle and thinking it’s a new mare for him. A cursory glance around the garage doesn’t reveal any obvious solutions until Marcus spots a relatively small box, filled with old papers and what looked to be school supplies. It was a random assortment of schoolwork and old materials his mom had decided to keep for whatever reason, collecting dust and smelling like every classroom he’d ever been in melded into one small box. Not pleasant but oddly nostalgic. The reminiscing is cut off before it even begins, as Marcus is struck with an idea.
Marcus sets the stallion down in the utility sink where he won’t be able to run or hide before rummaging through the box a bit. After clearing about half of the contents and making a fluffy-sized alcove, Marcus returns to the fluffy and gives him some new instructions.
“Okay fluffy, you’ve been good so far but this next part is the real test.”
As he said this, he was gathering the same towel rag and rewrapping the now shivering and sniveling stallion in it.
“This is NOT a sorry box. You’re going to make the best hidies you can and not make any noise when I put you in there. It might be scary but you need to be good for me fluffy, if you know what’s good for you.”
Again he emphasized the end to really drill into this thing’s head that Marcus is not to be tested. With another quick nod the fluffy spoke up quietly, getting out “o-otay nyu daddeh. wiww be quiet an bwabe fo be good fwuffy.”. He seemed defeated already, just cooperating to avoid the wrath of his captor. Good. Marcus placed the wrapped-up fluffy in the alcove among the books and binders, before placing the removed materials back into the box, covering up the fluffy entirely. Satisfied that the cover and mix of smells in the box would prevent any incidents, he peeks out into the house once more to assess the situation. Sam is in the kitchen across from the garage with her back to him. Unfortunately, Periwinkle is seated in a fucking high chair at the kitchen table, waiting happily for her lunch as she hums to herself amidst occasionally babbling out nonsense at Sam. She’s right across from Marcus, cutting off her babble to let out some sing-songy greeting.
“Yaaay hewwo middwe daddeh! Wan pway wif Pewiwinkwe?”
Christ Sam, give it a harder name to pronounce next time why don’t you? He had to think quickly, as Sam spun around to see Marcus now standing in full view, box tucked under one arm as he closed the garage door.
“Thought I told you to cut that shit out Periwinkle, I’m not your ‘daddeh’.”, the teen said curtly, seeing Periwinkle’s demeanor drop a little before his sister began to stand up for her fluffy friend.
“Mark, don’t talk to her like that! She just wants to be your friend! You should take her up on it, really.”
Marcus kind of smirked at this, finding some amusement in her attempts at biting back. She continued
“And what’s with that stinking box? Don’t bring stuff like that in here, it’ll hurt Peri’s nose!”
Huh, well she noticed it but didn’t seem particularly suspicious of the contents. Cool, that works.
“Yeah yeah, she’s a toy Sam it’s not that serious. This is just some old school stuff, it’ll be in my room where it won’t bother anyone so chill the fuck out will ya?”
Before she could even respond, Marcus turned and began making his way up the stairs, hoping that would be enough to get her off his ass for now. It was, thankfully, and Marcus soon found himself back in front of his bedroom.
Finding the keys a bit quicker this time, he begins to open the door before suddenly from within comes the beginnings of a wail. “HUUUU DA-”
SLAM
Okay, should’ve expected that. God damn it. He distantly hears Periwinkle mention something about a loud scary noisie, so he quickly swings the door open before sliding in and locking back up. The rapid opening of the door seemed to have startled Lilly so much that she went quiet for a second, maybe thinking a munstah was invading. You know, whatever dumb shit fluffies think happens. Finally, back in his room, Marcus slumped down in his chair with the box in his lap, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Okay, not quite as smooth as before but we made it.” He quickly turned his gaze angrily to Lilly, causing her to shrink back down in fear. “Lilly, you almost fucked that up for us. You don’t exactly deserve any rewards but I have some good news!”
The teenager quickly moved over to the fluffy pen, setting the box down on his nearby desk as he began taking out materials covering his captured feral. From the pen Lilly finally speaks up, letting out a shaky but hopeful
“g-good nyus? wha am nyus daddeh?”
Her questions go ignored as Marcus removes the unnamed stallion from his hiding place, lifting him in the standard upsies pose with hands under its front legs. Quickly whipping around to face Lilly, he lifts the new fluffy up so she can see him before dropping him unceremoniously into the pen with her.
“Here’s a friend to keep you company, don’t make a mess or get loud and you’ll live.”
Marcus knew damn well there wouldn’t be much playing going on, as Lilly was barely able to move and there were no toys to speak of in the pen. As he was about to turn and go to his computer, Marcus pauses.
“Oh, right. Guess this one needs a name because that ‘fwuffy’ shit gets old fast. So your name will be… uhh… fuckin, Bang. Yeah, sure. That works.”
The newly christened Bang looked up at his meanie daddeh with an expression of gratitude mixed with fear, responding with
“fwuffy am hab namesie now? Huu huuu tank you fow pwetty namesie daddeh!”
Marcus was already half in his seat by the time Bang got out his heartfelt thanks, evidently not sharing his enthusiasm. With one last sniffle, Bang finally turned his attention to his nyu fwend, suddenly distracted as if nothing bad had ever happened at the sight of her. He was so happy to see another fluffy, and could tell that she was a soon mummah! Bang had never gotten to see his babbehs, but he hoped they were happy and safe with his old special friend. (Lol) These would be good practice for when he gets to be a daddeh for real! They exchanged excited greetings and declared each other as being bestest fwends, babbling to one another about babbehs, wub, huggies, only the most important shit clearly. This went largely unnoticed by daddeh as he couldn’t be bothered to deal with them anymore today. After all, the plan had only a short way to go before the real fun gets started.
The pair of fluffies play for a few days, getting acquainted and languishing at their shared lack of the things fluffies were supposed to have. No toysies, no fluff tv, not even a litterbox! They designated a “poopie cownah” furthest from where the two slept, which Marcus largely ignored. He was far enough away to not smell it so he didn’t really care that the easily cleanable plexiglass and fluffy foam was getting shit all over. The only addendum Marcus had made to the “rules” was that there were to be no “enfies” of any kind, or there would be hell to pay. They don’t quite get what that means but it has a meanie word, so it must be really bad! Marcus continues to play dumb to Lilly’s pregnancy, opting to just toss a few handfuls of garbage tier kibble into the pen every so often. A plus of this kibble is that it’s advertised to make fluffy shits smell considerably less than normal, assumedly for breeders or mills that wanted cheap slop without much smell. Marcus thinks they’re in the wrong business if some bad smells are a dealbreaker, but oh well.
The fluffies had adjusted to this poor treatment and no longer complained about “nu taste pwetty” or “nee nummie boww fo good nummie time!”. The latter came from Lilly, as she had lived a cushy life before her abduction but soon realized this new daddeh was not going to give her what she needed. Finally, the moment of truth arrives with the sudden cry of
“BIGGEST POOPIES!”
as Lilly begins to rock in place. The shout had caught Marcus by surprise but wasn’t exactly unexpected, so Marcus opted to quickly duct tape her muzzle shut so she couldn’t scream all through labor.
“Loud fluffies are BAD fluffies Lilly. Don’t ever shout like that again!”
Marcus scoldingly told Lilly before returning to his computer. She was flailing her legs about in pain, clearly in agony with zero help in the birthing process. Bang was huddled in the corner, crying and whimpering for daddeh to help Lilly.
“Huuuu daddeeehhh~ Pwease hewp bestest fwend Wiwwy, babbehs am coming!”
Marcus just goes on with his act of pretending he hears none of it, opting to just put some headphones on and go to bed. He felt confident that they wouldn’t make any more noise after that show of discipline, so nobody else is likely to hear the events of the night. Big gamble but hey, anything worth doing is scary! The hours of labor and endless begging for help from Bang may as well not be happening right behind him, as the stallion whines out so quietly that Marcus wouldn’t have heard even if he were paying attention. Bang cries “meanie nu hewpin daddeh!”, completely horrified by the whole situation. Despite this, Bang summons up some courage and goes over to Lilly, attempting to help in his own way.
“Wittwe babbehs nee deiw mummah! Bestest fwend Ban’ hewp mummah Wiwwy!”
He alone undertook the process of removing the foals from the birthing site and cleaning the afterbirth off of them. After hours of excruciating labor, all the foals are out and happily chirping, having all been fed delicious milkies before passing out in mummah’s tummy bowl. A healthy litter of eight foals, all varying shades of blue, purple, and a few indigo just like their mother. This seems to leave an impression on the young stallion, who now seems to think Lilly is his special friend, as he dozes off dreaming of life with his new family.
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