Written for @Toofy
I hope it’s alright that I made a small edit for extra drama.
Part of this year’s Christmas Fluffies
You are a fluffy.
You don’t have a name, that’s something pretty fluffies get. Your fluff was the color of sicky-water, a dull yellow-green that clashed with your neon purple mane horribly. You have been told over and over how ugly you are so that you would know how lucky you are to still be alive. The workers that raised you called you Nursemare 73 but more often just N-73.
Real names are for pretty fluffies.
Before, you cared for those pretty fluffies. You were meant to teach them good behavior, to eat big fluffy food and use the litter box, to play good and quiet, to do whatever the humans said so they could find happy homes. Ones you would never get to see. It was a mercy, though. Ugly fluffies belonged in the burny-place, you got to have good kibble and lots of time playing with the foals instead of being burnt up to nothing.
It was nice while it lasted.
You were called over by one of the workers and put into one of the carts with their high see-through sides. You waved goodbye to all the little foals, knowing that it was your time to go to the burny-place. They put you into a dark box with little holes in the sides and a pad on the bottom. You sat patiently and waited for the burnies, trying to still your frantic heart.
It was good that they gave such an ugly fluffy like you so much good time with the foals. It was kindness, mercy that they only took your horn for misbehavior as a filly, you saw fluffies lose so, so much more. Limbs, wings, once you even saw a mare start making demands of the humans so they killed her right there in front of you all to remind you who was in charge. You watched her twitch and bleed, her breath rattling around her crushed throat before falling silent. The burny-place is a mercy. Bad fluffies got hurt until they slept forever. At least the burny-place was quick.
You didn’t go to the burny-place, though. The box got colder and colder until you were curled up and shivering in the corner. You had no way of knowing how long you rattled around in the box, just that your bladder and bowels were begging for relief. No litterbox in sight, you gritted your teeth and held it. Maybe they’d let you visit a litterbox before the burny-place. Or bad poopies in the burny-place weren’t bad?
Before you could puzzle over it too much more, light filled the box. You flinched as you anticipated the heat but it was gentle, an influx of comfortably warm air.
Your eyes adjusted to see a woman leaning over your box.
“Oh, ew. Are you really the nursemare?”
You looked around, double checking that you didn’t make any bad poops before your heart sank as you realized she meant you.
“Yus.” you spoke softly, hoping not to offend the woman any further.
“Well whatever, not like anyone will see you.”
Manicured nails dug into your scruff as you were lifted from the box and carried through a place you’d never seen before. Instead of metal grate flooring you saw pristine white carpets, the walls were painted with a pale blue instead of the chemical smelling white you remembered. There were things about instead of wall to wall pens, round, plush things you didn’t have a name for.
It took a moment of carrying before it dawned on you. This wasn’t the mill anymore. This was a house. One with humans living in it.
You were home.
The woman opened a door and set you down in a small room.
“You’ll be in here. The litterbox is there-”
The reminder of the pressure in your abdomen prompted you to run to the box of sand, breathing a heavy sigh as you relieved yourself. Good fluffies made poopies in the litterbox, nowhere else. You wanted nothing more than to please the nice lady who saved you from the burny-place.
When you finished kicking sand over your mess you realized that the woman had left and returned with another box.
“You’re going to be taking care of Martin here until Christmas.”
You curiously approached. The nice lady lifted the lid off the box and you saw the tiniest blue chirpy baby nestled up in a blanket. A baby! For you!!
“Fluffy take bestest cawe ob pwetty Mawtin!”
The woman frowned slightly. “Did they not name you?”
“Uhm. Fwuffy am cawwed En-Sebentee-Twee buh nu am namesie… Can fwuffy hab pwetty namesie pwease?”
“I’ll think about it. Now, he needs to be very quiet, if my daughter hears him it’ll ruin the surprise. If you can’t keep him quiet you’ll regret it. Got that?”
You nodded. “Keep babbeh kwiet. Den get pwetty namesie?”
“…Sure. Whatever.” The woman tipped the box gently so Martin rolled out with a peep. “Use the litterbox, there’s a feeder on the wall if he gets hungry.”
“Yes, nice wady, fwuffy-”
You were cut off by the closing door plunging you into darkness. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to seeing by just the crack of light that came in from under the door.
Martin lay peeping on the carpet, you quickly cuddled him up to your chest. Rocking him gently back and forth seemed to calm him a bit, the rest of his chirps were muffled by your chest fluff. He was younger than the foals you had trained previously. Those foals could run and play, they had their eyes open and talked in simple phrases. They also didn’t need milkies although most of them insisted they did. The nice lady knew best, though, if she wanted Martin to have milk instead of kibble he would have milk.
You snuggled with Martin for quite a while, listening to what was going on in the rest of the house. You started hearing a few different human voices talking about all sorts of things. Good smells wafted in under the door, sweet and spicy, something you didn’t have a name for. Your mouth watered but as you didn’t see any kibble to eat you stayed put. When the nice lady came back you’d ask if you could have some nummies.
Martin stirred at your side, chirping softly. You quickly shushed him but his peeps just got louder as he sniffed around.
“What was that?” A young human’s voice came from outside the door.
You pushed Martin into your belly fluff, trying to muffle his cries and keep him from struggling out of your hooves.
“What was what?” The nice lady replied.
“I heard like… a squeak.”
“Oh, maybe it was the furnace. Can you run this plate of cookies over to the neighbors?”
Looking around the saferoom for something to appease the foal your eyes landed on the feeding station. He couldn’t chirp and drink at the same time! You scooted to it as fast as you could without dropping Martin before shoving him into the artificial teat. He began to drink hungrily, you allowed yourself a small sigh of relief.
Bright light startled you, making your eyes clench shut automatically. You were yanked into the air, hooves flailing.
“I told you to keep him quiet!” The lady snarled.
“Fwuffy am sowwy, nu mean-”
The woman shook you roughly, rattling your thinkie place and making you accidentally bite your tongue.
“If you don’t get your shit together I will throw you into the fireplace alive.”
You managed to open your eyes to see her glaring into yours from only an inch away.
“Do you understand this time?”
“Yus, yus, fwuffy am sow-”
You were dropped to the ground, landing hard on your rump. The door slammed shut without another word from the woman.
You bit your tongue, tears dripping down your cheeks from the pain in your tail. Good fluffies were quiet. You remembered that from your training days. Humans liked fluffies that made good poopies, said please and thank you, and played quietly. Sobs over a broken tail were not what good fluffies did.
You slowly shuffled to Martin, listening. Listening was a quiet thing for fluffies to do. You heard a door open and close, and the young human and the lady talk.
Eventually the little foal finished drinking, detaching from the nipple with a pop and a soft coo. You stroked his back with your hoof.
“Guud babbeh Mawtin, num aww miwkies.” you whispered to him.
His little face screwed up, almost angry looking.
“Wai babbeh make nu-pwetty facies?”
Splrrrt!
A wet jet of milky shit shot out of him and onto the carpet.
“Nu! Dat bad poopies!”
Your hoof swung reflexively, bopping him on the head. You regretted this immediately as Martin chirped loudly in pain.
“Fwuffy sowwy, nu be woud!” You frantically tried to pet him but he just wriggled away. “Huggies? Huggies make bettah??”
But he didn’t want huggies. He continued chirping like a siren, using his stubby hooves to pull himself away from you.
“There it is again!”
Your stomach felt like it dropped clean out from your body as the young human spoke. Diving over Martin you used your body to muffle his cries.
“Pwease be kwiet babbeh!” you hissed at the lightly struggling form under you.
“That’s… weird.” The woman’s voice held barely concealed rage. “Let me check the kitchen, maybe the fridge is acting up.”
“Maybe some baby fluffy is outside? It could be a fluffy.”
“I… doubt that but maybe you should check.”
You stayed flattened to the ground until you heard a door open and close. After a moment more to be sure you were in the clear you released a sigh of relief and stepped back from the now silent foal.
“Babbeh nee’ be kwiet, nice wady nu wan’ woud fwuffy.”
Martin didn’t reply, laying limp on the carpet.
“Yu wisten, babbeh?”
Silence. You nudged him with your hoof gently but he didn’t move. At all.
“Babbeh…?”
The door flew open, bathing you and the dead foal in front of you in light. Looking up at the enraged woman, you felt your bowels release.