requested by @toofymunstah
You are Platinum, a shiny white pointy-wingie fluffy with brilliant blue eyes and a perfect little grey star on your rump. Your daddeh called it a “cutie mark” and said it made you “worth a million”. You didn’t know what a million was but it was very valuable. You were the most valuable fluffy in the world! So that made you the best fluffy in the world! And the best fluffy in the world should get whatever she wants!
You have a safe room with toys piled higher than you can even reach! If you want the ones off the top of the pile you just yell for Daddeh and he comes and gets them down for you. When you’re bored of your toys you can yell for him to put on a fluffy movie. FluffTV? For peasants! You only watch the movies in which the main characters call you by name and tell you they couldn’t have done it without you! Daddeh says they’re “custom order” and “very expensive”. Expensive things are good! You eat the best sketties every night and delicious pancakes every morning! Your blankets smell and feel like real fluff, no synthetics for you!
You want for nothing. Well, almost nothing.
Dummy Daddeh had the nerve to tell you no when you demanded to have babies! The gall! He tried telling you that you were “too young” and that you needed to wait. Why should you wait?! You wanted them now! You knew that you were the best fluffy ever, and you would have the best babies ever! But he just wouldn’t listen. He tried to appease you with sketties and treats, new toys and stuffie-friends but you weren’t having it. You wanted babies! No matter how hard you screamed and stomped your hooves Daddeh wouldn’t get you babies!
Eventually you came up with an idea. A very very smart idea from the smartest fluffy in the world. You told your daddeh that you wanted to play in the backyard. He led you out, happy that you were done with your tantrum. You then told him you wanted sketti and garlic bread brought to you. You didn’t eat any of the nasty canned sketti, no no, you had Daddeh make it fresh for you, every time. You knew it took a while, this kept dummy Daddeh out of the way for the rest of your plan.
You squeezed yourself out of the back yard through the gap by the gate and started trotting down the street. If Daddeh wouldn’t give you babies then you’d just have to go find them yourself!
You are Yarrow, an elderly yellow and white mare. There’s something wrong with you, after raising your first litter of foals your milky places never deflated. You just kept on making milk long after your foals had teeth and wanted real nummies. It was painful at first, but then your smarty realized that you were the perfect nursemare. Through your long life you raised more foals than you could count. If a mummah died, you were there to feed her babies. If someone had a big litter, you were there to take some of the strain off the new mother. It was a very important job you had, and one you loved. You even nursed the old smarty’s son, watching him grow until he took over for his father.
You were sitting in the foal place of the abandoned garage your herd called home, watching the few older foals play while two litters of chirpies slept around you. In your younger years you would have been running along with them, dragging teats be damned. Now? You were content just to watch.
It was just before the cold times, so every fluffy was needed to be sure that the nummie pile wouldn’t run out before the warm times came back. Smarty left you alone with the foals, your only assistant being one of his brothers patrolling the herd’s territory. You weren’t too worried, nothing larger than a fluffy could squeeze itself through the hole in the door, and you had plenty of experience defending yourself to make up for your age.
“MUNSTAH!” one of the foals shouted, and you smiled. Running from the “munstah” was a classic game, one you remembered fondly from your own youth.
A red foal sprinted to you, his eyes wide and terrified. It dawned on you that this wasn’t a game.
“Babbehs cum hewe!” You called, trying to keep your voice calm and friendly. As the older foals made their way to you, the red colt leapt into your waiting hooves.
“Munstah, Mummah Yawwow! Munstah in safe pwace!”
“Wha’ babbeh see?” You asked, hugging him tight. You hoped he had just seen his shadow, or took a nap and had a bad dream.
“It am wike fwuffy! But pointy and wingies! Hu hu, su scawy!” He sobbed into your shoulder.
A pointy-wingie monster. You gritted your teeth. These were creatures that took on the form of a fluffy, a monster in fluffy’s clothes. They were usually something you could scare off, threats usually worked. You’d fought them before only a few times, but they didn’t seem stronger than a normal fluffy.
Still, there was no telling what powers it could have.
“Babbehs wisten to Yawwow, gu hide in shelfy-pwace.” The back of the garage had many shelves, lots of little narrow spots for foals to slip into.
“Buh Mummah Yawwow, wha’ if munstah-”
You shushed the red foal, giving him one last squeeze. “Gu be bwave, babbeh. Yawwow wub yu, nu wet munstah huwt babbehs.” You gave him a reassuring smile as you shooed him off to join his siblings.
Once they were out of sight you rose, careful not to wake the tiny forms sleeping around your hooves, and took a protective stance as you heard the hoof steps approach. Too late to hide the chirpies. You’d have to defend them.
The monster was pale white, whiter than snow, and it’s piercing eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.
“Gu ‘way!” You called. “Nu wan’ munstah hewe!”
“Am jus’ hewe fo’ babbehs, dummeh.” It said, not stopping it’s approach.
“Yawwow said gu ‘way!” You repeated, pawing at the ground.
The monster stopped a few hoof steps away from you, a smug smile on its face.
“Pwatinum take pwetty babbehs.” She stated. It wasn’t a question.
Your belly burned with rage at the idea of giving your precious foals to this monster. Who knew what it would do with them. “Yawwow nu gun say it ‘gain. Gu ‘way, ow get wowstest huwties.”
The monster laughed, holding a hoof to its mouth. “Yu nu can huwt Pwatinum! Am wowf wotsa munnies! Mowe munnies dan-”
You slammed your head into the monster’s chest, internally cursing your hornless status. If you were a unicorn rather than an earthie, the monster would be dead. Instead you sent it tumbling backwards across the hard floor.
“Ow…owwies?!” It said, incredulous. “Hab huwties!!” It stared at you with its big, blue eyes wide in shock.
“An’ Yawwow gib mowe huwties if munstah nu gu way!” Your forehead ached, but you would take any amount of pain if it meant protecting the foals.
“Yu… Yu am meanie!!” The monster pointed it’s hoof at you, tears filling its eyes as it’s bottom lip quivvered. “Pwatinum’s Daddeh wiww huwt yu! Gib yu kickies!”
“Yawwow nu see Daddeh.” You spat. You stomped at the monster and it yelped, backing up.
“Wha’ am?” Another fluffy voice called. You smiled as you recognized it.
“Smawty! Am munstah in safe pwace!” You called back to him.
With a fluffy of hooves the herd rushed in, surrounding the sobbing monster.
“Nu am munstah! Am Pwatinum!” It begged between anguished wails.
“Wha’ munstah wan’?!” Smarty, a purple unicorn asked.
“Nu-home fwuffies SEWFISH!” It cried. “Pwatinum jus’ wan’ pwetty babbehs! Wai meanie fwuffies nu shawe?!”
“Munstah wan’ take babbehs?!” Smarty asked.
The monster nodded. “Pwatinum take pwetty babbehs.”
“Toughies. Gib stompies.” He ordered.
His brothers and uncles stepped forward, the circle tightening around the monster.
“Nu! Nu huwties! Pwatinum am wowf mowe munnies dan yu!!” It wailed. “Yu nu can affowd!! Owwie! HEWP!! HEWP VAWUABLE FWUFFY!!”
As the monster was buried in a sea of angry hooves, Smarty made his way over to you. “Am babbehs safe??”
You nodded. “Chiwpies am sweepin’, tawkie foaws am hidin’ in shelfie pwace.”
Smarty released a sigh of relief. “Wha’ am munstah tawkin about, wha’ am munnies?”
“Munstah twick.” You said, shaking your head. “Confoose fwuffies wif’ ting dat mean nuffin.”
“Hm.” Smarty said as his toughies stepped back from the broken body of the monster. “Take munstah ou’side, weab by poopies pwace su nu get stinky.” he ordered.
He wrapped a hoof around you, pulling you into a hug. “Am bestest fwuffy, Mummah Yawwow. Nu knu wha’ hewd du wifout.”