You are Mikey, a fourteen year old kid living with your grandparents and younger brother. You’re not a baby anymore, like him, so you’re keeping it cool. It’s immature to get super excited for Christmas presents, and you’re a teenager now, which is basically an adult. So you godda keep a chill demeanor.
Secretly though? You haven’t been sleeping. You saw a Fluffmart receipt in your grandma’s purse a few weeks ago, there’s only one reason she would be shopping there. She must have gotten you a fluffy! You’ve always wanted one, but every time you asked her and Grandpa would say they were a lot of work, they needed a ton of care and you just weren’t mature enough for it. But now you must be!!
Christmas Eve you spent the night staring at the ceiling, thinking of what you would name your new friend. If it was a unicorn you liked Spike, maybe Dash for a pegasus. Earthies were hard, you thought Bruiser would be a good name but you’d really have to see what color he was. When you finally could fall asleep, you dreamed of hundreds of fluffies all at once, every possible color combination.
“WAKE UP MIKEY!! IT’S CHRISTMAS!!!” You were jolted awake by your younger brothers screaming. You jumped out of bed to run down the stairs after him, your grandmother already in the living room with her phone ready to record.
“Merry Christmas boys! Go nuts!”
And nuts you did go. Your brother started screaming again as he ripped the paper off the latest game console. You dove into the packages, opening first a small blue collar, then a blue brush, a litter box and litter, then a book on fluffy training. It must be! It had to be!!
Near the back of the tree was a carefully wrapped box with clear air holes on the sides, you picked it up almost reverently. Your hands shook as you ripped through the paper. This was it! Your very own fluffy! Oh, you couldn’t wait to send pictures to the group chat, they would be so jealous! Grandma loved her color matching, so it must be a dark blue fluffy! Maybe you’d call him Storm! Or Surf!! Something tough like that!
The lid opened, and a fluffy form burst out of the box.
“HEWWO! FWUFFY WUB YUU!!” A tiny pink unicorn shouted.
You froze, staring at him. His mane was a peachy orange, horn fading from a deep magenta to a lighter Barbie pink. The sort of fluffy that belonged at a princess tea party, not with a young man like yourself.
“Isn’t she darling??” Grandma asked, holding her phone out to you.
“Yeah.” You swallowed heavily, plastering the smile back on your face. “She’s perfect. Thank you Grandma.”
“And I thought he’d have a problem with the color!” Grandpa said, entering with two cups of coffee.
“I told you, kids these days don’t care about stuff like that!” She replied.
You cared. You cared very much. The pink foal nuzzled into your hand as you lifted her from her box. What were you going to do? They wouldn’t replace her, if you acted unhappy with this they’d use it as reason that you weren’t mature enough for a fluffy. But she was horrible! Girly! Ugh, why did it have to be pink!
“What are you going to name her?” Grandma asked.
“Oh… uh… I think we should… get to know each other first, yeah.” The fluffy wiggled in your arms as you stood. “I’m gonna go… read the book and talk with… her. I’ll let you know what I decide on.”
“Sure, sweetie! Have fun!” She stood and started helping your younger brother unpack his new game console and get it set up with the TV.
You set the fluffy on your bed and shut the door behind you, pressing your forehead into it. What were you going to do? You couldn’t be seen with this… thing.
“Dis am nice woom, nyu daddeh! Am dis fwuffy woom?” the fluffy asked as she looked around.
“Just… shut up.” You muttered.
“Oh. Otay!” The fluffy started humming to herself, sitting on your bed.
You crossed your arms, looking her over. Could you use fluffy dye? The pink was so bright, covering her with blue might just make her purple. Would that be better? Probably better than pink. If you could even do it. Fluffies hated water, it would require constant baths and having to explain to your grandparents why she was purple. Probably expensive too.
“Daddeh, wen am fwuffy gonna get namsie?” The fluffy asked.
“Ugh, I don’t fucking know, shut up.” You plopped down into your computer chair.
“Bad wordsies…” the fluffy mumbled.
“I said shut up!” You shouted, and the fluffy cowered. “I didn’t want a stupid, girly fluffy! I don’t know what I’m going to do, I can’t be seen with something as stupid and weak as you!”
You dropped your head into your hands. Stupid, feminine fluffy. God you had to call it something, but what name could you even give it that wouldn’t sound like you were trying to cope? That stupid book wouldn’t be any help. Maybe you could let Grandpa know you don’t like her? He might understand, he knows what being a man is like.
You felt a small impact on your ankle, and looked down. The fluffy had jumped off the bed and was stabbing her horn into your ankle with all her might. It felt like a gentle poke, but she was grunting with exertion, twisting her head as if to screw into you. “…What are you doing?”
“Am tough fwuffy! Nu am stoopi! Hown am dag… dagnew…”
“Dangerous?”
“Yah!” She growled, cheeks puffed.
You couldn’t help but chuckle. It was… cute. She furrowed her brow and pressed into you harder, horn slipping off and sending her flying into the leg of your desk chair.
“Owwies!” She yelped, then spun around. “Uh! Fwuffy mean nu huwties at aww! Nu nu!” She blinked away a few tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
“Alright, you got me. You’re plenty tough.” You held out your hands to pick her up and she leapt into them excitedly.
“Weawwy? Daddeh wub fwuffy??”
“Yes,” you sighed “I love you.”
“YAAAAAAY!” she cheered, throwing her hooves into the air.
“We’ll have to call you something other than fluffy, how about… Cassidy? That’s a tough name.”
“Cassidy wub namsie! Wub daddeh!”
“Love you too, little girl. Why don’t we go back downstairs and see if you love Grandma’s pancakes as much as I do?”