Hey FC. Axestraddler here with another written piece. This one is a one shot, and is meant as an entry into the great bread fluffy bake off. Thanks for reading, and as always, I appreciate constructive criticism
Bon appetit!
Oh! Also please vote for me in the Bread Fluffy Bake Off
You can do so here
Ellen, a large, plain woman with a brilliant smile, happily drummed on the store front’s counter top, waking up Cinnamon, Rosemary, and Garlic, her bakery’s bread fluffies.
Cinnamon and Rosemary, her mares, jumped from their piles of old kitchen rags beneath the front desk, and ran over to her, excited to see Ellen, and to start their day.
Garlic was slow to wake, rubbing his eyes with his hooves and complaining “Nu am eben bwite-time! Nee’ mowe sweepies, Mummah Ewen”
Garlic’s attitude had soured lately, and Ellen was not too happy about this turn of events. Luckily, Rosemary and Cinnamon were great fluffies, and quickly took to running and jumping around Garlic’s bed, scream-singing “WET’S MAEK DIS BWEAD, WET’S MAEK DIS BWEAD!” over and over.
Ellen was one of the lucky few who found the display to be cute, rather than annoying as fuck. She suspected this was in part due to a heavy dose of schadenfreude, seeing Garlic unhappy when he was being bratty definitely brightened her day.
The day begins with breakfast for the fluffies, which Ellen prepares by making them each a bowl of oatmeal, which has been thickened and sweetened with flour and cream, and each bowl has two to three raw eggs mixed in after cooking. The oatmeal has to be pretty bland, otherwise the rich dough that makes up a bread fluffies coat might start to take on it’s flavors.
Cinnamon gets two bowls because she’s pregnant, about to pop. And as usual, Garlic is pissy about it.
“Wai dummeh Cimmanom haf wotsa nummies!? Garwic wan mowe nummies tu! NU FAIW!”
“Garlic, we’ve been over this. Cinnamon gets to have more food because she has babies in her tummy.”
“Dat stupies ting evew. Wai haf dummeh tummeh babbehs?” Garlic questioned, positioning himself closer to Cinnamon.
“Because you and Cinnamon had special huggies, so those are your babies in her tummy, and they need lots of food to grow up big and strong”
“Dat wite! Cimmanon had bestest tummy babbehs fwom Gaw-wic spechow huggies. Gon hab bestes famiwy ebah!” Cinnamon stated, overjoyed and the prospect of having foals of her own to love. Her sweet disposition changed as soon and Garlic’s front left hoof connected with her eye, and bowled her over.
He immediately set to scarfing down her food, getting several greedy mouthfuls before Ellen pulled him away from Cinnamon’s dish, and threw him the proving oven, currently set to off. Garlic could finish his own food when he wasn’t being a little shit, she decided.
Problem was that Garlic was becoming worse and worse. Ellen had heard of Smarty Syndrome before, but had always brushed the thought of it away as an excuse for sociopaths to torment brightly coloured biotoys. Even more than that, Smarty Syndrome was said to be rare, or impossible in some of the stranger fluffy breeds, like plant fluffies, or aqua fluffs. Or her bread fluffies.
Rosemary tended to the bawling Cinnamon, whose eye was already tinged purple and swelling shut. She seemed as ashamed of her brothers actions as she was furious with him. Rosemary had struck up a friendship with Cinnamon as soon as they had been introduced.
Rosemary was doing her best to hug the tears away from her best friend. Her brother was such a dummy! He could have hurt Cinnamon’s tummy babies. They were his too, could he really be that mean and stupid?!
But she knew that he could. She had grown up with him and his mean streak, after all. But it was especially frustrating for her to see him abuse Cinnamon, of all fluffies. She was the nicest fluffy Rosemary had ever met. And she had the prettiest eyes, like chocolate, and her doughy fluff always smelled so good.
If Garlic couldn’t see that being Cinnamon’s special friend was the best thing that ever happened to him, then Rosemary decided he didn’t deserve her. Not that she could do much about it. They already had special huggies, Cinnamon was going to have Garlic’s babies. Ellen had mentioned something about “ramping up production for summer.” Whatever that meant.
Rosemary recognized the word summer, that was when the sky was bright all day, and the days were hot. She had learned that on fluffTV. She had learned a lot on fluff TV. That sharing makes playtime even more fun. That you should be nice to every fluffy you meet, so you’ll have more friends. That babies come from special huggies, and special huggies happen when a stallion loves a mare very much, and they want to have babies together.
The last one troubles Rosemary however. While she’s certain Cinnamon wants babies, she’s pretty sure that the soon-mummah doesn’t love Garlic. She doesn’t even really seem to like spending time with him. And Rosemary KNOWS that Garlic doesn’t love Cinnamon. That’s not how you treat someone you love.
Rosemary was a rare fluffy. She had a reliable memory. She knew from his (and her own) previous misbehaviour, her brother Garlic would be in the proving oven for half an hour or so. He had been spending more and more of his time there, allowing Rosemary more time to be with Cinnamon. The pregnant fluffy had come to mean everything to Rosemary.
She had made her mind up. Any more time she spent thinking on the subject only convinced her further.
Meanwhile, Ellen had dialed her brother, Andrew.
“Andy, I really don’t know what to do about it. She’s ready to pop and he’s getting more aggressive. If I leave things the way they are, he’ll wind up killing the foals.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that, kid. Can you afford not to use him, and just, y’know? Minced meat pies or something?”
“Thought about it, but no. His fluff won’t work for pie crust. Plus it has that green tone to it. Green meat pie probably wouldn’t sell around these parts.”
“I could sell it-” her older brother began, but she heard his smirking tone above the din of his kitchen and cut him off before he could one up her yet again.
“Andy, your customers have more money than braincells and taste buds put together.”
“That’s only and insult if I say it to you. Ellen, you called for advice, right?”
“Yeah. Not to get smugged.” She said, a little angrily.
“First bit of advice. Go get some coffee and stop being angry at me for being good at what I do. Second bit of advice, kill Garlic. You want to ramp up production, and you want to use animal labour to do it instead of doing the decent thing and hiring undocumented immigrants like me. You’ll need the foals to do that.”
Ellen gave a great sigh, and replied “Okay, not gonna touch the problem with the undocumented workers, or you being good at what you do. I need Garlic. His fluff makes this great sourdough and-”
“I’ve had it.” Andrew gently reminds her.
“You have?”
“It’s good. The crust is that dark, dark green though. Which was weird. And the inside is that light, light matcha color… Or mint? Anyways, a light green. But it tastes fucking awesome”
Ellen choked up a bit. Her brother had always been sparing with compliments, especially when it came to food.
“Thanks I- wait, it’s 4 am over there in California. What the hell are you doing working at this hour?!”
“Oh I’m not in Cali! I’m doing a catered thing for a wedding. I’m in Tokyo! Can’t believe this fucking weeb wanted to get married here. Hope it’s everything anime promised her. Anyways, just use his fluff as sourdough starter, right? You won’t keep that colour, but you might keep the flavor!”
“Like fuck I’m mixing that much dough by hand. I don’t have a stand mixer, it was kind of the point of the bread fluffies.”
“Don’t you still have Mom’s old stand mixer?” Ellen could have sworn her brothers tone became just the tiniest bit softer. It made her words stick in her throat and all she got out was “Yeah… I miss her.”
But she was so deeply focused on her conversation with Andrew, she didn’t notice a very determined looking Rosemary slip by, into the kitchen.
Garlic was keeping himself busy in his idiot fluffy prison by trying to lick his own genitals.
“Almost dewe spechow stickie. Gon hab bestes guud feews an-”
“Hewwo Gaw-wic” Rosemary decided to interrupt her brothers train of thought.
“Wosemawy hab finkies. Wots ub big finkies dat make Wosemawy finkies pwace huwt.”
“Shaddup dummeh sissie! Wet Gaw-wic oud nao! Ow get wowstest hoofsies. Wan gib enfies tu dummeh mawe 'gain. And hab mowe nummies!”
“Wosemawy nu fink bad fwuffy wike yu can hab gud spechow fwiend wike Cimnanon.”
“Wat am sissie twyin’ tu say? Wosemawy am want Gaw-wic aww tu Wosemawy? Dat gwoss! Buh, if yu wet Gaw-wic oud nao, den Gaw-wic gib yu enfies.”
Rosemary threw up in her mouth. Rather than talk back to him, she just decided to move along with her plan. That was… Maybe the worst thing she had ever heard. She had seen Ellen use this proving oven before. When it was just her, Rosemary, and Garlic. She just had to turn the dial and flip the switch.
Rosemary lifted herself onto her hind legs, and used the prover to steady herself. She tried to nose the dial to the right, but that proved difficult, so she grasped it in her teeth and twisted her head. She was rewarded with a clicking sound. She did this several more times, until she could twist her head no further, and the dial was nearly entirely to the right. She had no way of knowing, but she had set it to 170° F.
“Dummeh sissie! Dat no wet Gaw-wic oud! Wet Gaw-wic oud! WET GAW-WIC OUD WITE NAO!” -ScreeEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEE- Garlic wailed.
“Um. Wosemawy am hab big tawkies she gonna gib yu, buh nao just wan yu neba hab tawkies 'gain. Hab gud foweba sweepies, bwuddah.”
With that she pushed the switch to the side and was satisfied to hear the machine him to life. The next part would be even harder to pull off. Distracting mummah Ellen long enough for her brother to take his well earned dirt nap.
She ignored her brothers screeching and crying. That was a pretty normal characteristic of a time out for him still, so she had some opportunity to get Ellen to focus on something else. Anything else.
-SCREEEEEEEEEE- “BIGGEST POOPIES!MUMMAH! WOSEMAWY! GAW-WIC!” -SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- “BABBEH COMIN!”
“Wosemawy wucky day.”
About an hour and a half later, Rosemary had helped Cinnamon clean all seven of her foals, and was bottle feeding the ones who Cinnamon couldn’t breast feed. Cinnamon had two foal at her teats, two in her arms, and two sleepily snuggled into the dough that comprised her fluff. She sang a mummah song to them all, beginning to nod off herself.
“Whewe Gaw-wic?”
“Oh shit! I left him the proving drawer”
“Dat otay.” Cinnamon was too tired to even admonish Ellen for swearing in front of her babies.
“Maybe Gaw-wic have sweepies in sowwy pwovew? Nu cum back tu nestie?” The bread fluffy asked, her voice heavy with worry.
“Yeah, I think we can keep him in there tonight. He’s been sort of a jerk, huh?” Ellen replied to her fluffy, only to find she was fast asleep. Ellen sprinkled some flour over the snoozing fluff pile, and covered them with a cheesecloth.
She probably wouldn’t be able to open today. Despite being a sinful amalgamation of baked goods and biotoys, the birth was as messy as any animal birth. It was probably not her brightest moment, deciding on a live birth in her storefront.
Still she was happy. She had elected to keep Garlic away from the girls and his foals, and use his dough until one of those foals could replace him. After that she’d toss him in the bin. Of course as she wandered back to the kitchen, she found those plans rapide changing.
Garlic had been roasted inside her proving oven, which had been put to nearly its highest setting. The bottom of the oven was coated in waste and blood, and spilled onto the floor when opened. It was ruined, and she’d likely have to replace it. She hauled Garlic out by his front legs, but the skin sloughed off halfway through lifting him, and his corpse splatters wetly on the floor.
On a whim, she takes a bite of Garlic’s unbaked dough, and immediately spits it out. Nothing can be salvaged. The dough had been tainted by the fumes of fluffy waste.
After several more attempts at moving her now dead fluffy out of her kitchen, she was finally able to bag most of him up, and set him outside in the alley behind her bakery, and the bag is then immediately set upon by rats and racoons, hungry for sweet fluffy flesh and half baked dough.
Ellen never figured out how the oven turned itself on, but in truth she stopped thinking about it shortly after it happened. Cinnamon’s babies needed a lot of attention, despite Rosemary loving and caring for the foals so much she would refer to them as her own.
Rosemary lived comfortably with the fact that she had killed her brother and gotten away with it. She never asked Cinnamon to be her special friend, though she dreamt of doing so often.
Cinnamon when on to have three more litters of bread fluffies through the use of paid studs, and helped Ellen open two more Bread Fluffy Bakeries.
