I never liked fluffies. Don’t get me wrong, i’m not an abuser, I just never understood the appeal. To me they seem like all the worst qualities of owning a parrot. the screaming, the shitting, the fragility, overpiced toys, speciality diet… So yeah, fuck that shit. How I came to own one really comes down to dumb luck and odd circumstance. Hell the only reason I ever stepped foot in that goddamn Fluffymart was to deliver a pizza.
I was working for Grubdash at the time and while making the rounds one afternoon I had a delivery to the fluffy supply store. That was the first time I ever stepped foot in one of those places and ho-ly shit. From the first step through the door it was an assault on the senses. The reek of shit hit me like a kick in the balls followed by the cacophony of retarded baby talk and the bright colors everywhere. It was like a psychedelic experience puked all over a pet store. I actually forgot why I came in until the clerk asked,
“Can I help you?”
“Huh, wha- Oh yeah. Delivery for Mohammad.”, I said holding up the pizza box.
“I’ll get him for you.”, he said and disappeared into the back leaving me alone at the checkout counter. I looked around at the store thinking I’d blow my fucking brains out all over the skettie treats and pony buttplugs if I had to stand here for eight goddamn hours a day.
The sound of something tapping on glass pulled me out of my mental tirade. I looked around and finally down and under the checkout were several fluffies segregated in individual holding tanks. When they noticed me looking they quickly tried to get my attention by acting cute or dancing or making the huggies pose while babbling that insipid baby talk. All except one.
Off to the side was a black alicorn stallion with a wavy violet mane and tail, his wings and horn had brighter purple highlights. His eyes were gunmetal blue and shown with an intensity one wouldn’t expect from a fluffy. His shoulders were tense like he was squaring up to me and he said,
“Ou hummon, git me outta ere!” The other fluffies recited their programmed slogans and expressions but that little shit looked me in my eyes and spoke to me.
“Git me outta ere an gib nummies or git sowiest hoofies! Smarty gib biggest owwies to stupie hummon!” It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying and I didn’t expect to be threatened by a kid’s toy.
“Sorriest what? Biggest owwies… Wait a minute did you just say you’re gonna kick my ass?” He just flared his nostrils and pawed at the ground like he was about to charge at me through the glass. I was flabbergasted, I’m 6’4" and three hundred pounds and this little shit just threatened to kick my ass!
“Fuck you, you can’t kick my ass. I’ll kick your ass you little faggot!”
“Me am smarty, ou am FAGGOT!” The dumb fluffy lisp disappeared for just that one word as he practically growled faggot. I laughed harder than I had laughed in a long time and that really pissed off the young alicorn.
“Oh smarty am joke nao?”, he started. “No am joke when smarty gib ou mummah speshul huggies!”
About this time the clerk and manager came out of the back just in time to see me bang on the glass and shout,
“Don’t talk about my fucking mother you motherfucker!” Mohammad, the manager, cleared his throat and quickly drew my attention away from the surly colt which did nothing to calm it’s temper.
“Uhh Grubdash delivery for Mohammad.”, I stammered as I tried to salvage a shred of professionalism. The fluffy noticed the staff return and asked,
“Oh am ou too dun enfing each otters poopy pwaces now? No wonder dis stow am go to shit.” I tried not to laugh and failed but I did manage to pass Mohammad the receipt to sign. As he signed I had to ask,
“Aren’t these things supposed to be for kids?” The manager just shook his head as he explained,
“Sometimes they go bad and turn into smartys or bitch mares, it happens for different reasons but most fluffies are fine for kids. If that little shitrat wasn’t an alicorn he wouldn’t even be on the sales floor, I was hoping maybe a breeder would buy him but,” the manager paused to look at the stomping colt with it’s cheeks puffed out. “That is the meanest goddamn fluffy I’ve ever seen.” Mohammad sighed and continued, “I guess it dosen’t matter now. After closing that little shit has a date with the incinerator.” I’m not sure what surprised me more, the revelation about the incinerator or how readily the manager admitted it.
“Isn’t that a little harsh?”, I asked.
“You don’t deal with fluffies much, do you?”, Mohammad asked. I shook my head no and he continued, “Smartys aren’t just bratty and demanding. They break things, they shit maliciously, they hurt other fluffies, and worst of all they can teach other fluffies to act the same way. Their behavior can spread like a disease. So yeah company policy is that once a fluffy starts to call it’s self ‘smarty’ into the incinerator it goes. That little shitrat just started that smarty shit this morning or else he’d been gone.” The clerk piped in,
“We had to separate him after he killed all of his littermates and bit off part of his mother’s ear.”
“I thought these things were harmless.”, I stated looking down at the colt who was walking circles and mumbling insults. The clerk answered the question I didn’t ask,
“Harmless to humans, even most animals, but a determined fluffy can really hurt another fluffy.”
“Huh.”, I mused aloud. “Hay shit machine.”, I started as I addressed the clearly agitated fluffy, “Did you kill your siblings?” The alicorn looked in my eyes and with his chin up defiantly answered,
“Me gib brudders an sissy foeber sweepies! Day get all muikies leav nun fo smarty. Day call smarty munstr. mummah call smarty munstr tell smarty ‘num poopies’ Fwck dat! Me sow shipwats what munstr wealy is. Wooda gib mummah foeber sweepies but stoopid hummon stop smarty. Only ting smarty hate mor den stoopid hummon is stoopid shipwat fwuffy! HATECHU!”, the smarty screeched as if he were hoping someone else would hear it. “Hatechu stoopid shipwat fwuffy fwcks.”, he mumbled and began sobbing. I looked back to Mohammad and the clerk and said the only thing I could,
“Dude this is pretty fucked up right here.” They just nodded.
Even now I’m not quite sure why I said what I said next, “Well look, if you’re just gonna torch him… How 'bout… maybe I take him off your hands?”
“WHY?!?!”, the manager and clerk demanded in unison.
“Maybe I can do something with him. I just… have a feeling.”, I said. Mohammad thought about it for a moment before he finally said,
“Well, I think you’re nuts but I’ll tell you what if you buy the first time fluffy owner’s starter pack I’ll throw the shitrat in for no charge.”
“Sure.”, I agreed.
“One condition,” Mohammad added, “never bring that fucking shitrat back to my store. Come whatever may don’t bring him back here.”
“Yeah, no problem.”, I said and shrugged. Before I knew it I was loading a fuckton of fluffy crap into my car and was down nearly three hundred fucking dollars. They set me up with a bed and bowls and food and treats and a sorrystick and litterbox and toys and books and all kinds of shit most of which I doubted I’d need. Once that was packed up I went back in for the critter himself. I knelt down in front of the glass counter and was surprised to see him curled up in a corner sucking on his hoof with his eyes squeezed shut. I didn’t expect such a dramatic change in behavior and drew the clerk’s attention to it.
“Hay is he ok?”, I asked. The clerk looked down at the alicorn and mumbled, “Oh man.” he began to unlock the display case as he explained, “When fluffies are under extreme stress they revert to infant behavior, sometimes it causes brain damage. That little outburst must’ve taken a lot out of him.” The clerk removed the fluffy from the holding tank and lifted him up to the counter. He attempted to reassure me, “It usually takes real trauma to cause long term dam-” The fluffy’s eyes shot open and locked on the clerk.
“SOWIEST FWCKIN’ POOPIES BIWTCHE!”, the colt screamed and unleashed a torrent of wet chunky shit like an automatic shotgun blast. The little colt absolutely painted the clerk with a seemingly impossible amount of hot greasy shit while screaming like Stallone with an M60. The clerk dropped the fluffy on the counter and turned around to puke in a trashcan. The alicorn took off running across the counter knocking over displays and still shitting, his short legs moving faster than I expected. He almost ran off the end of the counter but managed to stop right at the edge and began spinning in circles still spraying viscous shit in all directions. I had to jump back to narrowly avoid the shit spray. The other fluffies in the store began to notice and a chorus of, “Nu smewl pwitty.” started to grow. Mohammad came back to the store floor but before he could appraise the situation the shitty alicorn turned it’s wraith upon him.
“GIT SUM!”, the colt screamed as he squeezed out a single, seemingly solid, turd that hit Mohammad and exploded like a water baloon filled with vegetable stew and bile. Mohammad yelled and lunged at the pony but slipped in liquid shit allowing the fluffy to scamper back across the counter, knocking off the few items he missed the first time. The fluffy grunted and strained but the shit slowed down to only bursts of decreasing volume. The clerk grabbed the fluffy when he came within reach and quickly shoved a pony buttplug into the colt’s ass. The clerk scooped the screaming fluffy up with both hands and yelled for Mohammad to bring him a carrier but Mohammad was to busy sliding around in the shit to hear him.
“Ou wook thoosty.”, the fluffy said, his voice raspy from screaming. The clerk turned back to the fluffy in his hands and was about to speak when the fluffy pissed right in his face. The clerk turned away from the hot stream of piss and yelled,
“Goddamnit Mohammad get the fucking carrier!” Mohammad flailed around on the floor splashing shit on the few places the fluffy had missed. The clerk groaned in frustration and stomped through shit puddles toward the back while carrying the pissing, shitty, cursing, squirming fluffy at arms length but still with both hands. He shoved the screaming alicorn into the first empty carrier he found and locked it. The clerk took a breath and wiped his face off before bringing the carrier out to me.
“Get. This. Fucker. Out.”, the clerk growled through clenched teeth. I took the carrier and mumbled something along the lines of,
“Thank you, have a nice day.” and beat tracks out the door. I put the carrier in the front passenger seat and secured it best as I could then I sat down in the driver’s seat. The screaming from the carrier had turned into heavy breathing and a few strained grunts. The smell of shit and piss filled my car so I rolled the windows down and lit a cigarette, wishing it was a blunt. I looked back at the Fluffymart and could hear Mohammad and the clerk arguing, probably about who was cleaning what, when the clerk absolutely flipped out. He stripped off his shit and piss soaked clothes while screaming,
“I am motherfucking sick, of these motherfucking fluffies and this motherfucking store! Fuck this shit I fucking quit!” The clerk stormed out of the store, butt naked, leaving footprints of shit behind him as he disappeared into the parking lot. At that point I finally lost it and laughed. I laughed like I don’t remember ever laughing before. I laughed until my guts hurts. I don’t laugh easily and almost never in public but I have never seen something so completely insane before in my life. Whatever happens afterwards, I was sure it would be entertaining but for now we were going home.
Home for me is an old auto body shop just outside of town. The first floor was the old shop which I used as work out space, a small metal shop, and a garage. Upstairs was a series of offices that I converted into a comfy apartment with all the amenities. Sure the outside looks rundown but the structure is sound. It might even be nice one day if I can keep up with the maintenance. The building sat on a half acre of land with chain link fence around the perimeter. On two sides were the back of a closed down quarry and the other two were small roads. No neighbors, minimal traffic, hell, even most locals don’t know about this place. All of which adds up to me getting to do pretty much what I want.
The ride home was uneventful, I made a pitstop for some supplies I thought I’d need as I expected a rough night getting the little shit settled in. To my surprise the fluffy slept the whole ride home and stayed asleep until the car was almost unpacked. I heard him stirring in the carrier and mumbling something almost coherent,
“Wet smarty out.”
“In a minute,” I called, “I’m almost done.”
“Wet smarty out nao, faggot!”, the fluffy rasped, his voice still hoarse and gravelly from before. I chugged the last of my fifth can of Monster java and walked hastily to the carrier, lifted it quickly and dumped the shit-caked colt into an old eight gallon paint bucket. “Aooowww. Smarty nu smell pretty. Smarty feal gwoss.”, the fluffy complained. “Stoopid hummon, gib wickey cweaney.”, he demanded.
“lickey clean?”, I asked incredulously. “How about I hose you down instead?” Before the alicorn could respond I whipped my cock out and pissed right in his shitty little face. My piss was dark yellow, almost orange, from drinking energy drinks all day long and it stunk. I had been holding it for almost two hours so I blasted him for a good thirty seconds as he squirmed and stammered,
“Nu wike! Nu wike! hue hue hue…” I wasn’t sure if he was really crying or just trying to make me stop but I knew I couldn’t let up. I shook the last droplets of piss at him and put my cock away then leaned down and said,
“Eew you are the pissest shittest fluffy ever!”
“Fwck ou. Nu stinky wawas, nu poopy fwuffy. Fwuffy am smarty, smarty am bestest fwuffy. Desurb bestest nummies, nu poopy. Smarty gib poopys nu get poopys.” I felt my stomach begin to rumble.
“Funny you say that.”, I said, “Because it’s time for sorriest poopies motherfucker!” I dropped my pants, sat on top of the bucket and unleashed a wet, gravelly coffee shit that hurt my asshole and smelled like burning wires. The colt screamed bloody murder. I tried to be quick not wanting to suffocate the little fucker with my ass and got up as soon as I was done. Without wiping I turned around and yelled into the shitty bucket,
“You think you’re the bestest fluffy but you’re not even a good fluffy.” The fluffy looked up crying and exhausted but didn’t speak so I continued, “If you want to be a good fluffy all you have to do is exactly what I say and only a smart fluffy can follow my directions. Do you want to be a good smarty or do you want to die uhhh foevah sleepies?” Tears continued to flow down the colt’s shit-caked face but he never broke eye contact. “You think about it because smartys always think before making a decision.”, I said before putting the lid on the bucket and putting a cinderblock on top of that.
I ran upstairs to shower quickly and get changed, I didn’t want to leave him in the bucket too long just long enough to suffer. Once I was changed I loaded my shotgun, just in case, went downstairs and checked the time. The fluffy had been in the bucket for about an hour and I figured that was long enough. I moved the cinderblock and carried the bucket out back to the hose and dumped the fetid contents on to the grass. The small colt laid on his belly, legs sprawled out and his head on the ground with his eyes closed. I could see he was still breathing so I asked,
“You still alive fucker?” The fluffy’s eyes opened slowly and he responded,
“Fwck ou hoomey.”
“So what’s it gonna be? Will you obey me or do you want forever sleepies, with your brothers and sisters?” He starred at me for a moment and sighed,
“Nu want foeber sweepies. Fwuffy do wut ou say.”
“Well here’s your first test. Hold still, this is gonna suck.” I said as I turned on the hose. The water was cold and I knew the fluffy hated every moment but he held still and I tried to be fast. Once the worst of the shit was rinsed off I put away the hose and warned the shivering alicorn that I was going to pick him up. To my surprise the little colt sat up on his hind legs and lifted his front legs, like the little shit actually wanted to be picked up. I lifted him up and laid his belly across my shoulder, mostly to control the direction if he shit again. Then I popped out the butt plug from earlier, the tiniest splash of shit came out with it, he grunted uncomfortably but offered no resistance.
“Sworry.”, the colt whispered, “nu meen poopys.”
“I know, don’t worry about it.”, I said. As I carried him back inside he asked me,
“Is dis gud upsies?”
“Well what do you think?”, I responded.
“Tink dis am gud upsies. Wike gud upsies!”, he answered his voice still hoarse but a little more animated then his previous responses. I let myself smile a little as I brought him over to a deep basin steel sink. The fluffy looked around and asked, “Mor wawas?”
“Yep but I promise this will suck less then the hose.”, I answered trying to reassure him. “Just relax and do what I tell you.”
“Otay.” I turned on the warm water and started working up a lather with the fluffy shampoo and scrubbed gently.
“It occurs to me that you need a name.” I said.
“Wai fwuffy knead nam? Am fwuffy.”, the alicorn asked. I wasn’t expecting that but I suppose the answer I gave was as good as any,
“Well a name would sound better then ‘hay shit machine!’”
“Ou am asshoe.”, the fluffy stated flatley. I am but the fluffy relented, “Otay what am fluffy’s name?”
“After what I saw at the store, I was thinking, Damien.” His eyes lit up, he held his head a little higher and wagged his tail. I think he even smiled a little as he repeated,
“Damien. Fwuffy am Damien. Me am Damien! Damien like name! Is Damien gud fwuffy?”
“Well so far so good but being a good fluffy isn’t something you do once.” I tried to keep my words simple as I explained, “Being a good fluffy is something you have to do every day. It takes work and sometimes it may be hard but you have to keep trying.” I rinsed the shampoo out of his fluff and asked, “Do you understand?” Damien cocked his head to the side as he considered the question and answered honestly,
“Tink so.” Couldn’t fault him for honesty.
"Do you remember how I told you to be a good fluffy? ", I asked. Damien thought hard before he answered,
"Ou sed fwu-uhhh Damien hav to du exakly wut ou say. " After I finished rinsing him I lifted him onto the counter and started drying him off.
“And will you?”, I asked.
“Damien twy but wut ou am want Damien too du?”, the fluffy asked earnestly.
“Let’s start with the basic shit.”, I said as I scooped up Damien in the towel and carried him over to the corner of the garage I pinned off while he was still sleeping in the car. I put and old gym pad down over the concrete and set up the litter box, the bed and the water bottles. Then I spread out the fluffy toys that came in the starter pack plus some tennis balls I had laying around and some stuffed animals an exgirlfriend left over years before. I stepped over the fence and showed Damien his litter box,
“First, every time you have to piss or shit do it in the litter box. Smart fluffies, like I know you are, piss and shit in the litter box. Only dummy, poopy fluffies shit on their toys and bed. Got it?” Damien nodded firmly and answered,
“Got it! poopies an pissies go in witer box.”
“Ok. Second stay inside the fence unless I say otherwise. Everything that’s yours is inside the fence but outside is a whole lot of shit that kill the ever lovin’ fuck outta you. This is for your own good.”, I explained. “Got it?”
“Got it! Damien keep fwuffy ass in swide duh fense.”, He answered faster that time and started wringing around in my arms.
“Easy boy one more thing and I’ll let you down to play.”, I explained as I carried him over to his food dish and water bottles. “You’ll get kibble twice a day and occasional snacks in between. I don’t want you begging for more food. Hell, I don’t want you begging for anything. You can ask for something once but if I say no then drop it. Got it?”
“Got it! Ax don beg an nu meens nu!”, Damien answered. He put that together faster than before so I asked him to repeat it and he did, “Ax don beg an nu meens nu.”
“Say it one more time.”, I coached. Damien sighed but repeated again,
“Ax don beg an nu meen nu.”
“Good.”, I praised simply as I put the colt down in the middle of his enclosure. He shook off the towel and stepped carefully onto the gym mat.
“Is soft.” he stated as he prodded the mat with a hoof but his apprehension faded quickly and soon he was running in circles around the enclosure flapping his tiny wings as he ran. Then on his final lap he put his head down and charged, horn first, into a teddy bear impaling it through the stomach. Damien then reared back on his hind legs with the teddy bear still on his horn and shook his head violently until the stuffed animal flew off and across the pen. He fell back on his hindquarters and for the first time I heard Damien laugh, I laughed too but warned him,
“Don’t tear up your shit too fast or you won’t have anymore.”
“Otay.”, he agreed before flopping onto his back and rolling side to side with his legs pointed straight up.
“So Damien you gotta be running on empty after that shit storm and it’s about dinner time so are you hungry?”, I asked.
“Fwck yea Damien have the rumbwist tummy!”, he exclaimed.
“Ok then, you stay here and I’ll set you up with some gub.”, I said and steped out of the pin. I figured he could start on fluffy kibble in the morning but tonight he could use a few extra calories. Earlier in the day a friend at one of the restaurants I delivered for hooked me up with a to-go order of manicotti someone had forgot. It’s not sketti but it’s basically the same fucking thing so Damien should like it. I tossed it the little microwave near my workbench and finally got to the blunt I forgot to take with me that morning. I fired that shit up and waited for the food to heat up. A few minutes, and a few righteous puffs later the manicotti was warm and I was well on my way to baked. I scooped the food onto a Dixie plate, carried it over to the pin and put it down near what would be Damien’s kibble bowl. When Damien caught the smell I guess something clicked in his brain because he cautiously asked,
“Am dis skettis?”
“Not quite this is called manicotti.”, I explained. “And it’s only for special occasions.” Damien sniffed at the food, took a small bite and swallowed. After a moment to consider the new food the small alicorn exclaimed,
“Howy shit! Dis am bestest nummies eba nummed! Why no num erwey day?” He didn’t wait for an answer before burying his snout into the pasta and slurping it up. I took a puff off my blunt and answered,
“'Cause if you eat that shit every day you get fat and we don’t want you turning into a fat fucking lump of fat fucking shit do we?” Damien looked up from the manicotti just long enough to say,
“Fwck ou, daddah.”
