Chapter 2:
Oddly, transporting them wasn’t the hardest part of this whole affair. You didn’t know it, but as soon as you asked how you’d move the foals and their mother, she had simply laid down and they had instinctively clung to her back, burrowing themselves into her fluff. From there, you simply walked alongside her back to your car.
Which would prompt the hard part.
“Nyu Daddeh, what am dat?” she asked, hiding behind your legs. “That’s a car. Mine, to be exact.” She eyed it, clearly still unsure on what it actually was, beyond the fact you owned it. “Wat caw?”
“Oh, it’s a thing we sit inside of, and it takes us from place to place.” The fluffy gasped “Caw eat Hoomans, then take hoomans to odda pwace?” she said, sounding somewhere between impressed and absolutely terrified. You realize at this point the concept of transportation via any means beyond walking was something entirely outside her frame of reference. “Uh…no, no, it doesn’t eat you…it opens, the car’s not alive…” you say, hoping she doesn’t run her fat ass back into the woods.
The mare looks at it “No awive, but move?” You nod, hopefully she’s going to accept this. “It also makes noises when I start it.” “Stawt?”
Oh Christ, you wish you had just told her it was alive and the cab was an elaborate saddle of some kind. “It uh….works on Hooman magic!” You improvise quickly, producing your keys from your pocket, and holding up the car key “This is a magic shiny that makes it go!” you say, holding it out for her to inspect.
She sniffs it, and prods it with a hoof. “Nyu daddeh am suwe it safe fow babbehs?” You smile “Completely. I came here in it and I’m fine, right!” You say, smiling at her. This line of reasoning seems to mollify her concerns, and she nods. “Otay, go in caw with nyu daddeh!” she says, walking closer to it with you. She stops, and pokes at the dark blue painted door. “Hmmmm. Daddeh, what am dis made fwom?” she asks, looking at her own reflection in it.
“Oh? It’s called “Metal”. You say, picking her up gently and placing her in the passenger seat. The babies chirp as she’s lifted. “No cwy babbehs, is gud upsies!” she says, wagging her tail rapidly. Cute. “What am Metaw?” she asks, looking at you. You put the key in the ignition, but don’t turn it yet. “Metal is a hard, shiny thing we humans make. It’s very strong, and can be very pretty. We use it in all kinds of stuff we make.”
She looks at you, thinking. “So many things fwuffy nevew knew!” she says, somewhere between mystified and excited. “Hooman wowd hab many things wike dis?” “Oh yeah, lots and lots of things! Some things even I don’t know.” Her jaw drops. The idea of a human not knowing everything is clearly foreign in concept to her.
“I’m gonna turn the magic shiny now. It will make a weird noise, it can’t hurt you, okay?” you ask. She nods, and takes on a determined look. You turn the key. She jumps slightly, and the foals peep, but they calm quickly and she begins making a “bu bu bu bu bu bu bu” noise in time with the engine.
You consider asking her why she’s doing that….and think better of it. Fluffies do odd stuff, it’s best to just roll with it sometimes, as long as the behavior is harmless.
As happy as you are to have adopted this little family, you know up front that you have nothing on hand to care for Fluffies. You’ll need to stop at FluffMart. “Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a vet look at all of you, either…” you say aloud. “Daddeh?”
“Yes?”
“Wat am “Vet”?”
You realize you just said it out loud. Dammit all.
“A vet is a person who makes sure Fuffies don’t have any sicknesses. They help people like me take care of fluffies.” you answer, hoping to god you didn’t just scare your new pet.
“Otay!” she says, “Fwuffy no wanna hab sickies, no wan babbehs hab sickies!”
You then remember that she’s about twice as smart as the average Fluffy, and actually gives a shit about her foals and their well being. Taking out your phone, you set up a GPS map to the nearest FluffMart. Time to get some supplies, and make sure your new pets are healthy.
You figure that you’ll cross the bridges of “Bathing” and “vaccination” when you come to them, and make a mental note to ask if they have anything to help teach Ferals to be less……them. Your fluffy mare, meanwhile, resumes her car noises as her foals sleep soundly, clinging to her back.
——
The FluffMart’s large sign, showing a happy fluffy family, catches the eye of the mare sitting in your passenger seat. She looks at it, eyes wide. “Dose am big fwuffies.” she murmurs, awestruck. “That’s a sign. Those aren’t real fluffies, they’re just pictures of fluffies!” She looks at you in wonderment, the concept apparently a new one to her. “Pictuwe? Am dat wike thinkies?”
So fluffies have the ability to visualize their thoughts? Or this one does, at any rate. “Yeah, it’s like that. Can I pick you up? I have to take you inside.” you say. She nods, and you get out of the car, walking to the passenger seat and scooping up your new pet. She’s surprisingly solid for what amounts to a teddy bear with sentience, weighing about as much as a large house cat. The foals peep and squeak as they feel themselves moving, but quickly settle down. “You’re heavier than expected.” she puffs her cheeks a little at that “Am miwkie weight.” she said indignantly.
Note to self: Even fluffy mares are sensitive about their weight. Seems that’s universal for women.
You carry her inside the fluff mart, and she looks around, eyes wide at the sight of other fluffies, mounds of kibble bags, toys, playpens, carrier boxes, foals nursing with their mothers, and others on their own, no doubt rescues or rejects. Her tail begins to wag rapidly. “So many fwuffies! Wook daddeh! Chirpeh babbehs, an mawes, and stawwions, and tawkie babbehs, and tings for pway!” She says excitedly, smiling widely. “I know! This is where people come to buy house fluffies, and to get things for good fluffies. I’m going to get you and your babies some stuff here, but first I need to take you to the Vet, remember?”
The excitement had clearly made her forget. “Otay! See Vet, den get tings, den go nyu housie?” she asked. “That’s right, I hope you like your new house when we get there.” You say, scratching her behind the ears. You’ve had the fluffy less than an hour and a half, and you’re already extremely fond of her and the foals. You’re not really sure why, but they’ve struck a soft spot in you.
Walking to the large white desk to your left, you stop and ring the bell. The woman sitting behind the desk is a blonde, roughly your age, with her long hair in a ponytail, black-rimmed glasses, and scrubs on under a white coat. She looks up at you with icy, blue eyes.
“You called?” she asks, pointing to the fluffy “Brown female, and you said 3 foals on the phone, right?”
You remember her voice from the other end of the line. “Yeah, that’s them.” you answer. “You’re Dr. Sophia Clarke, right?”
She looks at you sternly “Technician. We’re not doctors, legally. Fluffies aren’t animals, remember, they’re considered Bio-Toys. So we’re called Technicians.”
“Right, Technician. Anyways, are you ready to see them? I’d like to get a clean bill of health for them, and take care of any problems they might have.” You ask, eager to take care of your pets. She stands, stretches, and motions to a nearby door. “This way, sir.”
—
You are a Fluffy. You lived in the woods ever since forever, and one day you found a nice, pink stallion to be your special friend. He was so sweet, and he was so happy when you became a soon-momma. He couldn’t wait to see the foals.
Then one day, humans came and made him go forever sleep. You saw it, and cried for days. Then 1 bright time ago, you had your babies. They were beautiful. Most of them took after you, One brown, one the color of clouds. The last one had more of your special friend in her, she had spots of pretty pink fluff just like him.
You loved them, they were perfect in every way, and you gave them all lots of hugs, milk, and love. You kept them spotlessly clean, and sang your momma songs to them.
When you heard another human coming, and he parted the grass with his not-hooves, you rose, weak, to your feet. You hadn’t recovered from birthing your foals, but you prepared to fight. They had taken your special friend, they’d probably kill you and your babies, but you would go down fighting.
But instead of a monster human, he was nice. He thought your babies were as pretty as you did, and asked if you wanted to come home with him, to a nice, warm house, to be fed and cared for. You didn’t really trust him at first, but something about him set you at ease. Your babies seemed to like him, and he was gentle with them.
So you agreed.
And now, you were at a “Fluffmart”, a place filled with fluffies and things that looked fun and wonderful. He said before you picked out things, you needed to see a “Vet”, which he told you was a nice person who helped take care of fluffies.
You were sat on a warm, soft thing made of not-fluff and metal, with a ridge around the edge to keep your babies from rolling off. A nice, pretty human lady was bent down in front of you, smiling.
“Hi there, your daddy says he found you in the woods, is that true?” she asked. You nod “Yes, is Twue. Daddeh find mummah and pwetty babbehs, be nice to babbehs, so mummah wet him be nyu hooman daddeh!” you answer. You’re not sure why she’d ask you this, your human daddy said it, he had told her, did she not trust him?
“Wow.” the lady said, standing up and looking at your daddy. “You really adopted a family of ferals. I can’t tell if you’re just too nice, or completely insane.”
“Hey, she’s really well mannered and smart for a fluffy, talk to her, you’ll see!” your daddy said, pointing at you.
The nice lady sat down, and looked at you. “Okay, I’m gonna ask you some questions, then I’m gonna examine you and your babies, alright?”
“Ex-a-meen?” you ask, unsure what it means. “It means I’ll look really close at you. It won’t hurt, I promise.” she tells you reaching out a hand. You shy away slightly, but let her stroke your mane. “Otay.” You say, unsure, but your daddy seems calm, and this lady seems nice, so you’ll let her.
She pulls up a strange, brown thing with a shiny piece and some thin white things on it. The shiny thing catches your eye. What did daddy call it? Metal? That was it it, Metal!
“Which one of your babies is the BEST baby?” She asked.
“Aww.”
“Hm?”
“Aww babbehs am bestest babbehs!” You say proudly.
“Good, no bitch mare syndrome… Are any of your babies extra sensitive?”
“No, babbehs nawt sensitibe. Cwoudy babbeh wikes to dancie, tho!” You say, looking down at your white baby, who is snuggling her sibling in a fluffpile.
“Awww, that’s cute. Did you have any other babies?”
“No, deese am aww mummah’s babbehs.”
“Have you ever had tummy babies before?”
“No.”
“Alright, all sounds good…… I’d like to examine you now, and then your babies. Then I’ll give you a bath, and your daddy can get your some fun things, and you can go home with him, alright?”
“What am baff?”
Your daddy walks over. “A Bath is when humans clean you. It’s water, but it’s GOOD water….it’s nice and warm, it won’t hurt you, and it makes you smell nice!” He says.
You don’t like water, and mutter “Wawa am bad for fwuffies……but wiww have baff…. wan smeww pwetty, wan be cwean so no get sickies.”
The nice lady raises and eyebrow. “Did you just convince a feral you met less than two hours ago to bathe?”
“It’s not me. It’s her, she’s smart. I think she gets the idea of “for your own good”, at least, kind of?”
You smile at that. Daddy thinks you’re smart! You’ll be a good fluffy for him, he’s nice and is taking care of you!
“Besides that, she’d get the bath anyways. Seriously, she’s dirty, I’m surprised she’s not crawling with parasites.”
You’d object to that, but it’s not wrong, and you know it. You frown, but say nothing.
“Fluffies can’t actually get skin-based parasites. The fluff is too thick, it suffocates them. Fleas, ticks, mites, all those things, can’t survive on fluffies except on the ears and nose, or on newborn foals.” the lady says.
She looks back to you. “Open your mouth nice and wide, please.” she says, holding up a small metal object and a flat, wood stick.
You open wide, and she looks inside your mouth. A bright light comes from the metal object. You’re amazed, humans can make a tiny bright ball!? Your daddy rode around in the belly of a metal creature, but it didn’t eat him and made fun noises! They could make water GOOD!! Was there no limit to their power!?
For a little while, the room is mostly quiet, except the nice lady talking to herself and touching a shiny, but not metal, stick to the white parts of her metal and brown thing.
“Color: Brown with white mane. Gender: Female. Eyes: Green. Age: 1 Year approximate. Weight: 4 pounds, little chub-
“AM MIWKIE WEIGHT!”
“-Milkie weight. Breed: Earthie. Name…….”
That’s right. You don’t have a name. You were never given one. You’ve always been “Fluffy” or “Special Friend” to others.
“I hadn’t thought of one. Hmm.” You daddy says.
You feel his hand stroking your back. He makes a noise like he is thinking.
“Hazel” He says. “Her name is Hazel.”
“THANK FO NAMESIE DADDEH!” You squeal, tears welling in your eyes. “WUB NAMESIE, HAVE BIGGEST HEAWT HAPPIES, AM BESTEST NAMESIE!” You’re overjoyed. Nobody had ever given you a name before, you feel……different now, more real, more……you.
“That was nice, you really made her day.” the nice lady says ,smiling. “Name: Hazel. That should be everything, we’ll keep all this on file here for check-ups.” She continues. “Can I look at your babies now, Hazel?”
You nod, and pick up your 3 colored baby. “Dis am Mummah’s thwee cowor babbeh, am vewy pwetty babbeh, hab thwee pwetty cowors!” you say, holding her up.
The nice lady checks the baby’s mouth, nose, ears, hooves, and listens to her little heart and breathing. She smiles. “Your pretty 3 color baby is VERY healthy. You’ve taken good care of her!” she says, stroking the foal’s tiny head with a finger. “Let me see the rest.”
She examines the rest of your foals, being very gentle with them as she does.
“They’re fine, no problems with the foals.” She says.
“Anything with Hazel?”
“She’s got some dirt on her, insect bites, some scars here and there, crack in one of her hooves, and callouses on the bottoms of them. Nothing serious, I’ll give you something for the cracked hoof, it’ll be good as new in like a week, maybe 10 days.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Tech.”
“Whatever. Bath time?”
The nice lady sighed in resignation. She knew, no matter how well-behaved Hazel was, this wasn’t going to be fun or easy.
“Yep.”
