Been mostly a lurker for a while, decided to try and take a spin with writing a fluffy story. Hopefully it isn’t too terrible for you all!
Your name is Erin. You’re a 26 year old woman that works in a local, reputable Fluffy Breeding shop as a caregiver for the fluffies. You didn’t know why, but something about fluffies drew you to them; Something just hit you differently with them, than with any other animal. Ever since you were a child, you knew, you just knew, that you wanted to work with fluffies in a positive environment.
After finishing High School, you looked into Veterinarian work, but most of what was being offered was either for general pets, or farm-specific animals. It took you a good few months to find a school that actually offered a health and care course specifically for the scientific anomaly that was the fluffy pony, and you were over the moon. Each day you eagerly spent learning more and more about the curious little critters, and eventually you graduated at the top of your class. You felt like you could take on the world.
A couple of years ago, a new fluffy shop was opening up in your home town. They advertised themselves as a “humane breeding and selling shop” – and you knew you couldn’t miss the opportunity to finally get some in-field experience. Each day you walked past the store on your walking route, watching the building be renovated, excitedly waiting for the “Help Wanted” sign to be plastered on the front door.
One day on your route, a month or so later, you spot the sign on the door while walking past. Your eyes lit up and without even a moment’s hesitation you ran inside with your bag.
Stopping at the front desk, winded from bursting through the door, you manage to get out:
“Must. See. Manager. Now. Please?”
The store clerk looked at you with visible confusion.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” he asks. “Do you need any help?”
You hold up a finger to ask him to pause while you caught your breath.
“I want to speak with your manager about a position here.” you calmly tell him.
“Uhh, okay, just one moment.”
The clerk picks up the store phone and makes a call. Must be one of those in-store phone systems.
“Uh, yes sir. A lady just came into our store and says she wants to apply for a job.” He pauses, nodding. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay, will do sir.”
He hangs up the phone and turns to you. “The manager will be out a moment. Please, take a seat,” he holds out his hand, gesturing toward a small sitting area. “You look absolutely exhausted.”
You nod in response before sitting down. Well, it was more like slumping down… Your heart was racing from the rush and excitement. Digging into your bag, you grab some of your wet wipes to clean your hands before taking a swig from your bottle of water, and grabbing your already prepared resume.
A few moments later, an elderly gentleman, couldn’t have been older than 55 but still having all his grey hair, walks down the central aisle and approaches you.
“Ah, you must be the new prospect. Miss…”
“Erin.” you tell him.
“Ah, Miss Erin. It is very nice to meet you. My name is Steven, and I am the owner and manager of our little fluffy shop, Fluff-a-Palooza. This gentleman you spoke with is our Supervisor and acting sales clerk, Eric.”
Eric raises his hand quietly to greet you. You raise yours toward him in response.
“Come, let us step back into my office, and we’ll take a look at your skill set.”
“Well, Miss Erin. Everything looks to be in order. You have a fantastic resume, and your hands-on skills are well polished. We would love to have you on our team.” Steve extends his hand to you, and you shake it with a bright smile on your face.
“Thank you, sir! I promise I won’t let you down!”
“You did such a good job with my little Cinnabun, I haven’t seen her so happy to be worked on by someone with medical training.”
Over in the corner of the room, trapped in a “fluffy safe zone” sat a light, sandy brown mare with dark brown lined patterns on her.
“Sinnabawn am soo happehs to knows nice wady! Fank 'oo for nice nummies!” she exclaims, munching on the small, spaghetti-flavored treat you awarded her after giving her a full medical exam.
You can’t believe it. Your childhood dream of getting to work with fluffies for a living has finally come true! Come next week, once the first batch of fluffies arrives, you’ll be working with the general population as their caregiver. It seems like a basic job, but you’re their first line of defense against any sickies, owies, boo-hoos, and meanies.
You’ve been working at the Fluff-a-Palooza for a few years now. It’s become a great routine each day to come in, check each of your little fluffy friends for any problems, feed them, clean their holding pens (and the fluffies themselves if they need it), and entertain them. Everything is great… Except for one tiny problem.
…You want a fluffy of your own. Your employer has a rule in place that store staff cannot adopt a fluffy from the store, as that would be seen as “playing favorites” with the fluffies. Playing favorites would lead to “bestest babbeh” syndrome, a lot of fighting between the fluffies, and possible Smarty Syndrome developing. Something that could spread like wildfire…
You loved each of the fluffies equally, as much as you could. No one fluffy got better treatment over the others, just as you were trained to do. Standing up after playing with the fluffies for the last time before closing, you dust your uniform and apron off.
“Alright everyone, it’s time to say goodbye.”
“Aww! Buh we wuff 'oo!” they say in unison, giving you the biggest puppy dog pouts you’ve seen. Even though you see it every day, you still get a little heart flutter each time.
“I know, guys. But it’s time for darkies and sleepies. I’ll be back tomorrow, you’ll see~ Just be good little fluffies and don’t cause and trouble!”
“Otay Missy Ewin. We be good fwuffies fow 'oo.” says a little grey pegasus stallion, looking sad.
You turn off the lights and bid the fluffies goodbye until the morning. Walking out from the storage room, which was where the store fluffies’ homes were, you walk toward the front of the shop to clock out.
“All done for the night, Erin?” Steve asks, flipping through some papers behind the counter.
“Yes sir. Everyone’s safe and accounted for. Another day’s work, done.” you respond, taking your apron off.
“Very good. Have a nice night, Erin.”
You wave to your boss before finishing your clock out and leaving the store, the little bell on the door ringing as it closes behind you. On your walk home, you hear something from down an alley. It sounds like… a very sad bird and some labored breathing. Curiosity overtakes you as you walk down the damp alleyway.
You turn the corner to find an old cardboard box with some fluffies inside. Most of them are various lifeless foals, with the exception of a large, cyan Earth fluffy and a light blue Unicorn foal on her side, trying to keep warm.
You squat down to check on them. The foals that aren’t on the mother are definitely gone, and the one on her is weak and fading. The mother isn’t in a very good shape either. Looking over her, you find that she’s suffering from anemia and starvation. Her eyes are glazed over and her breaths are long and wheezy. Weakly, her eyes shift toward you.
“Woah there, missy. No need to get scared,” you say in a soft voice, trying to keep her calm.
She breathes in slowly. “Hoomun nice? Gud hooman? Hewp wastest babbeh?” she asks.
You bite your lip. Seeing these two in such rough shape, you desperately want to help them both… But you know deep down that only the foal has a chance to survive.
“Pweese take wastest gud babbeh. Save babbeh. Mummah am bad mummah.” she coughs a bit. “No nummies fow miwkies, babbehs no hab miwkies. Babbehs go fowebah sweepies.”
The mare shuffles a bit, trying to get her last foal closer to you. You know you shouldn’t take a fluffy from the streets… It could cause all sorts of problems if you aren’t hyper careful with raising them.
“Pweese nice missuhs. Mummah no can make it. Save babbeh.” She seems to be struggling, barely clinging onto to life with the hope that she can provide enough warmth to keep the chirpie foal alive.
You knee down and nod. “Alright. I’ll save your baby.” Carefully, you scoop the foal into your hands, it’s hardly even 1/3 of the size of the palm of your hand… Severely starved of food and nutrients.
You scoot over next to the mother’s head and show her the little foal. She smiles softly.
“What’s your name?” you ask her.
“Am Gemstoon. Name pwetty wike fwuff.”
“Gemstone, huh? Well, Gemstone, since this is your last baby, do you want to name her?”
Gemstone closes her eyes for a moment. At first you think she finally kicked the bucket before she opens them once more.
“Shaffiuh.” she manages to get out. “Gwow up to be pwetty wike mummah.” She coughs weakly.
“Sapphire it is then.” You put the foal into your bag, laying it onto your apron for comfort.
“Fank 'oo nice wady. Gemstoon am happies that wastest babbeh…” she pauses to cough. “…gets nice mummah. Fank 'oo.”
You look down at the poor fluffy. She’s clearly not going to last much longer, and she is in a lot of pain. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath in and make a decision. You’re going to humanely put her down.
“I’ll take the best care of her for you.” you tell her as you gently lift her up.
She smiles weakly at you. With tears in your eyes, you firmly grasp her at the base of her neck. As you were taught in the Fluffy Vet course, you make one swift motion to snap her already weak, fragile neck. Gemstone’s body goes limp in your hands. She didn’t feel a thing, as her death was instantaneous. Overcome by the grief of your first euthanasia, you sit there next to her and her family and cry for a few minutes.
After gathering yourself, you decide to flip over the cardboard box and put the dead fluffies inside. You close the top and take it back home to give them a proper burial, fitting for a “good mummah.”
You now have a fluffy of your own that you’ll be nursing back from the brink of death. It’s a feral, chirpy fluffy, but still feral… You hope that your training will be enough to properly raise her as you dash home with the box in hand, and bag on your back. What will your boss have to say about this?
–End of Part 1
