Fluff and Co.
by roguesoul
You learn not to ask what the buyers do with the fluffies. You want to, you want make small talk and bring more customers in. But at the same time, you don’t ask- you don’t want to know the answer. And it isn’t your place to say anyway. Your job is to raise the fluffies you breed to the best of your abilities. This shop isn’t a mill, this isn’t about producing the most fluffies, but high quality, well behaved fluffies as well as offering training classes and homemade fluffy food. What happens after they leave the shop isn’t up to you.
At least that’s what you tell yourself.
“Hab nuw daddeh, hab nuw daddeh!” the fluffy is singing offtune to herself, clapping her little hooves with a soft flapping sound. Her ‘daddeh’ in question wasn’t really looking at her- but at his phone, he’d hadn’t really looked at her- just her price tag. She was lower in price, not due to her attitude she was the sweetest little filly really, one of Gala’s and had become safe with alicorns having been raised with them. The problem was her coloring, dirt brown with a chartreuse mane and tail, which even without the brown- no one really liked chartreuse.
It was too bad really. A damn shame.
“That’ll be 9.16, and you’re sure you don’t want any of our Fluff & Co. brand kibble, it’s made right here and 25% of when purchasing a fluff-”
“Nah, it’s fine- I’ve got shit for it at home,” the filly flinched and you reach down to ruffle it’s head.
“Nu wike meanie wowd- wai, wat do-” you let out a shushing sound, as you pet the fluffy, before closing the cardboard carrier. “Nu! Nu wike dawk sowwy box, fwuffy am gud fwuffy!” You go to comfort the filly, to tell her she’s not in trouble, when the young man smacked the box with his hand causing the filly to let out a short scream. There was a water trickling sound and from the smell you were pretty sure the filly pissed herself.
“Shut it, brat!” You swallow, taking the money, and making change for the the man, and over the sound of the cash register you hear the familiar ‘huuing’ of a crying fluffy.
“We-” you clear your throat, trying to get back on script, “We also offer training services, if the need should arise, but she’s a real sweet girl- would be a good nanny or nursemaid for foals.” The guy rolled his eyes as you hand him the change and reciept.
“I don’t plan on breeding, but- thanks,” he was at least polite to you, as he tucked the money away, and grabbed the carrier, an ‘eep’ from the box as he swung it in the air. You watch, the bell on the door ringing, and you look down.
Another sale and another piece of your morals going down the drain.
You take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out before walking over to the corkboard. There was a picture of the filly, the name Kiwi scrawled on it, and you pull it from the wall. You’d thought about keeping her as a nanny herself, she was alicorn safe after all, but there was no need for her- Cole was a great foalsitter on his own, even if he was an absolute dumbass.
The shop area was rather small, a side room with a plexiglass wall into the training area where classes were held, and shelves with the homeade kibble bagged for sale and a number of wholesale supplies. You and your ex-roommate had opened Fluff & Co. nearly three years ago, and it had survived nearly two bankrupcies and Equine Herpesvirus epidemic that swept through the shop and killed 1/4 of the herd.
Since then, the shop had survived by the skin of its teeth thanks to the hardwork of you and Alex. It was difficult to hire on, the one junior associate was only allowed to work at the front with the supplies, or with the brattier shop fluffies. No one wanted to come in to the entire shop in disarray from a cruel comment or bad action.
You step back from the main area, nose wrinkling slightly. The room had an air freshner at the wall, fake lavender almost masking the smell of fluffy shit. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, they were all pretty good at keeping it in the box, aside from-
“YU!” You let out a curse under your breath, reaching up to brush your hair behind your air as you look over to the third display case. A waste of the genetic pool there. There were two foals in the bin, the good one had been bought a week back, now was just the brats. “DUMMEH GIB TWEAT NAO!” You roll your eyes at the puffed out cheeks of the lime green alicorn foal, her maroon tail dripping with scat.
“Treats are for Tuesdays, nothing more, nothing less- you’ll get some sliced strawberries with dinner.” You walk over grabbing a modest handful of papertowels.
“Nuuuuooo,” the filly draws out the ‘no’ in a whine, stomping her hoof, “Nu wan stwaw-bewwies, wan sketti tweats!” You sigh as she butted her head against the pvc wall of her case. Such a waste, such a fucking waste- and her mother was such a darling girl, how the fuck did we end up with this little bitch.
“Hold still-” you reach down to grab her scruff-
“Wha?” the filly looks up in confusion, before squeaking and trying to run away, slipping in her own shit, “Nu- don huwt gud fwuffy, am guddest babbeh!” You blow air through your nose, pushing the filly down against the floor trying not to get anymore scat on the foal as you begin to wipe her ass and tail. “EWWW, nu wike-hay yu! Fwuffy hay yu!” There are tears and snot dripping down her face now, even as you clean her.
I hate you to you little brat, waste of your mother’s potential and waste of a food bowl
You don’t say it, you just clean her off and wipe the floor up as best you can. You’d hose it down at the end of day, but they had to look the best for buyers, especially with the shit show of a personality the filly carried. You glance over, noting that her sister was dappled with manure, though it was across her face instead. “You shat on your sister,” you scoff, pushing the filly a little harder against the floor.
The filly whimpered loudly, “Nuuu-pwe-pwe stop, fwuffy nu wike dis-” You watch the filly trying to pull away, useless padded hooves trying to scrape against the floor.
“So kay, mistas, fwuffy am fin,” the brat’s smaller sister was the sweeter of the two, though her colors no less horrible. An off reddish brown coat with a dark grey mane and tail. She was an alicorn as well, it was the only reason she was in with her sister- the brat was a nasty little bully.
“Here,” you let go of the filly’s scruff, throwing away the mussed papertowels before grabbing another handful. The bully sniffled loudly, puffed cheeks having fallen as she wiped her nose with her forearm. You move over, carefully wiping the shit from her mane and face.
“Why nice tu dummeh sissy, an nu nice to bestes-EEP!” you swat the bully’s ear, and she flinches away, diving under her blanket. Her sister watched, looking down.
“Nu nee du dat, sissy nu bah,” you wipe her face carefully, before ruffling the filly’s hair.
“If she’s not that bad, then you must be the be-goodest fluffy ever,” she looked down, but seemed to preen a bit at the compliment- and you were careful not to have the word ‘best’ in there. It had such a negative impact for fluffies afterall.
You pull away, going to wash your hands before checking on the rest of the display pens, “Wai!” You look down, the red alicorn hopping over and putting her hooves up on the pvc wall. “Can fwuffy as ques-shun?” You nearly snipe at her that she just did, before nodding- looking up at her sister hiding under the blanket. “Wen-wen fwuffy gun hab knu mummah, ow-ow daddeh?” Your face pinches, mouth resting in a straight line, and the filly looks down. “Oh-wen can fwuffy see mummah gain?”
You swallow, “You- you are going to get a mummah or daddeh any day now, I promise.” You nod, seeing the fluffy’s face alight with joy.
“Yay!” her tail wagged happily, “Nu wai to hab famwy!” Your expression is a bit tight, but you nod, pulling away as the filly dances her hooves about. You, weren’t certain- she was an alicorn sure, but one small for her age and an absolute stain of a color. They’d only been on display for 3 weeks now, there was still time before they became adults and harder to sell.
The bell rang and you step away from the display area and behind the counter. “Welcome to Fluff & Co- oh hey James,” your customer service voice disappeared as you noted the man. He was a regular, you looked down to see he was carrying a fluffy under his arm. It was silent, even as it’s legs flopped dead weight- not supported by the guy.
“Hey, Y/N, can you take Dove for me?” Your mouth drops open, looking between the soft grey pegasus in his arms and up to his face, “I know you normally don’t take fluffies- but my neighbor tried to throw her out after she bred with my Maxwell-”
“HUUU-hic-huuu,” tears dribbled down her face, “Mummah thow Dove in twashie- jus-hic, huuu, jus wan-wan fwen an, an Masweh gib bah hug-HUGGIES!” the mare’s face was hitched and rough, and you snap your face up to James and he at least takes the consideration to look shamed.
“Yeah- he said that she wanted it, I’m trusting my fluffy- I mean you know how much mare’s want babies,” your eyebrow arches.
“Why can’t you take her-” the mare began screaming again, and now was wrestling to get out of his arms.
“NU! PWEASE! NU WAAAANNNN,” she began to sob again.
“Yeah, she did that last time- and can I set her down?”
“No- besides, I don’t take strays, James, that includes dumped mares,” you knew why he brought her here already. Shelters and pounds didn’t take pregnant mares, even ones pretty like she was. Her colors were pretty, with that soft grey and white mane and tail. But with her attitude, she might just fall into a ‘wan die’ spiral before her pregnancy was up.
“Otherwise- shush, you are alright Dove,” the mare hung limp again, “Otherwise you know what’ll happen to her.” You do, and your happy he doesn’t say it. It would start another fit from the mare, or worse her display fluffies would over hear. Trash, exterminators, animals, humans, cars, other fluffies, the weather- and who knows what else and what would be the worst. You want to feel bad for her, she reminds you of one of your first fluffies.
“I’ll take her James,” you say, giving the man a smile, and he looks at you with a grin.
“Weawwy?” the mare looks at you with wide eyes and a hopeful grin, “Nice hoomin gib home an wub an gud nummies jus wike owd mummah?”
“Yes, of course,” she wiggles in Jame’s arms and you take her, setting her down behind the desk. It’s fenced off so she won’t be able to get into the main area.
“God, thank you Y/N!” he smiles grabbing a bag of kibble from the shelf, “What changed your mind?”
You ring him up, your expression tight. “She reminds me of a fluffy I had growing up.” You smile handing him his recipet. “We’ve got a few alicorns if your looking for another one-”
“Any stallions or colts, I don’t want another mare causing problems like-” he points down at the mare, and you shake your head.
“Only fillies right now, but with Selena expecting we might get a couple more, I’ll call if we get one?” James shakes his head.
“Naw, Max is enough for me- thanks again, Y/N” He goes to leave.
“Wait, how far along is she?”
“Almost 3 weeks I think? That means she’s due soon right?”
“Kind of, we’ll see,” you wave goodbye, watching James walk away.