This was written years and years ago on the booru and I thought it lost. It’s somewhat sort, but silly.
Fluffy Jesus
It was a cold and chilly evening, the warm desert sun had set on the sandy expanse. Two dirty fluffies slowly trudged through the sand, pressed on by an urgent need. The mare, pregnant and swollen, struggled with each step as her belly dragged along the coarse ground. A small stable stood in front of them with a single light shining through the window. Mary’s special friend trotted ahead of her and lightly tapped his hooves against the roughshod door.
“Whazzat?” The grizzled man grumbled, peeking out the door. With a quick glance he closed it again.
tap tap tap
“Damn kids… “ Again he opened the door, this time looking down. “Ugh. Really? I got no food. Giddout!”
“Nice mistah,” the fluffy began, “mah spechew fwend gunna haf biggest poopies soon.” The earth mare lowered his head, his dirty brown fluff matted about, his ears lowered, “nee pwacefow babbeh. Pwomise tu weafe wight away.”
The man sighed, he couldn’t miss the pregnant mare, half walking, half pulling herself towards the manger. “Fine, you can use the barn. But, I swear, if I gotta clean up your shit, you’re gonna get it.”
Both fluffies smiled and nodded. As the man disappeared, the two made their way to the rear of the barn. Moments later they nestled happily into the hay. Joseph nuzzled against his mate, concern clearly written across his face. “Su… Mawy… Who da weal spechew fwend?”
Mary sighed and tried to clean up her blue fluff. She matched her mate, earth type, matted and dirty fluff. She had this conversation several times before, and again, “Joosef mah spechew fwend. Mawy nefa hab spechew huggies befowe.”
Joseph didn’t fully believe her, as she was a very pretty mare. But, again, he didn’t try to argue. It was pointless. Sleep took the couple, nestled together in their own pile, but their restful night was soon interrupted.
“Biggest poopies!” Mary screamed out, waking Joseph and the rest of the animals. Joseph, always the dutiful mate, took charge and helped with the birth. A single white foal, with a pristine horn, laid happily against her teat. Joseph, crestfallen, watched as Mary hummed to her newborn foal. Both were immediately distracted by three loud voices.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Of course it is, Caspar! We followed the star. Did you bring the gifts?”
“I got it all in the bags here… So, Balthazar, smarty pants… where is this virgin birth savior son of God?”
“I bet they’re back here!”
Three heads poked into the dimly lit barn, surprising the new family. Mary’s ears perked up and she rolled about into a sitting position. She lifted the pure white unicorn foal towards the strange men. “Dis bestes babbeh! Mawy nefa hab spechew huggies bafo an den hab babbeh!” Her smile widened and she looked towards Joseph, who only covered his eyes in shame.
Melchior looked between Caspar and Balthazar, confusion on all their faces. “What? WHAT?!” Caspar turned and said nothing, disappearing into the night, Melchior following closely behind. Balthazar remained still, his confusion turning to anger.
“God dammit! This little shit rat is our messiah? Gah fuc… Dumbsh… ARRGHghhhh JESUS CHRIST!” THUNK The sound reverberated through the barn as Balthazar kicked the wall, curses and promises of becoming a shepherd filling the air as he disappeared into the night.
“Jeesoos Cwist.” Mary held up the foal towards Joseph. “Mawy wike dat name. Jeesoos Cwist.” Joseph cringed and curled up as Mary returned to nursing.
Jesus grew, his mane and coat a brilliant white. His horn, the color of alabaster. It wasn’t long before Jesus grew into his gift of healing. Sick and injured fluffies traveled miles to be touched and healed. Fluffies missing wings and legs. Blind fluffies. The sick and the lame flocked to experience his miracles.
As his reputation spread, so did his preaching. “Tuwn da odda fwank,” and “wet fwuffy wiffout sin cast da fiwst wock.” And so Jesus, the fluffy without sin, left his family to spread his word. His influence grew, along with his herd. The best herd. He approached two brothers casting their nets into the sea, eager to increase the size of his herd. “Yoo dewe, yoo come wif Jeesoos. Jeesoos am bes fwuffy. Am fwuffy wif nu sin.”
Simon and Andrew shared a look then returned to their work. Jesus stomped his little hoof into the sand. “Yoo am nao in Jeesoos hewd. Jeesoos am bes smawty! Gif yoo etewnal wife! Da wiches uf heaben! Endwess wands of sketti!”
The brothers dropped their nets and focused on this rather arrogant fluffy. Simon was the first to speak, “and what makes you think we want to follow a fluffy around?”
“Jeesoos am bestes fwuffy. We twavel da wowld. Spwead da gud wowd. An yoo get bes nummies and shiny tings!”
Andrew shrugged, “I really don’t like fishing. Why not?”
“Gud! Yoo an nao Mawk!” Jesus turned to Simon, “an yoo… yoo am nao Mawk!”
The two, now both named Mark, followed behind Jesus, the herd and followers growing. Jesus, it turned out was not very good with names. He renamed each disciple, which pleased them greatly, as none wanted their real identity known. There was Matthew, Matthew, and Matthew. Mark and Mark. Luke. Judas, and John. And John. And John, John and also John.
One day the twelve were sitting around Jesus as he spoke the word to them, each having confused looks as he rambled on. Jesus stomped a hoof and puffed out his cheeks. “Fwuffy awweady say. A bumpy nu-howse can go two da see-pwace uf a needuh befow a hoomin wif shiny tingscan entew heaben!”
It was a sea of dumbfounded looks. “Yoo aww dummeh hewd hoomins!” So Jesus turned and walked away. It was not the first time his human followers could not understand his parables. And so they traveled, and during this travel Jesus found another fluffy that understood him. Her name was Mary Magdalene. Sad wawa flowed as her eyes gazed upon Jesus as she had many sins, including many many special friends. Their group grew larger.
It was near the shore that they stopped and Jesus delivered another confusing sermon to the masses. He then commanded his disciples to cross the water while he prayed on the mountain. It was sleep time when Jesus awoke to find a storm raging across the water, the small ship with his disciples in jeopardy of sinking.
As any great smarty would do for his herd, he wanted to run and hide, but he faced his fear and trotted across the water. The disciples, upon seeing their messiah, screamed, for fear death was soon to come. But Jesus just stood on the water. “Dummeh hewd. Nu be afwaid.” The wind and the waves abated, the sky cleared.
One of the many named John, shouted, “But Jesus, you’re a fluffy, you can’t walk on water!”
“Wawa? Jeesoos on wawa…?” Jesus looked down.
Fluffy Jesus drowned.
Judas snatched Jesus from where he stood, water pouring from his mouth. As he laid him on the deck, the twelve were filled with awe. His fluff glowed, ever so softly. His head shook and he rolled over, standing again. “Siwwy dummeh hewd hoomins. Fwuffy Jeesoos nu dwown.”
John leaned against the railing, a bottle of wine in hand, “God damn this is some good shit.”
The word of Jesus spread throughout the land. The authorities paid little heed to this fluffy pony spouting the wonders of heaven or the rumors that a fluffy pony is the son of God. It wasn’t until Jesus made his way to temple. There he found money lenders and females, fluffy and human, offering services. This disgrace, the defilement of his father’s house sent him over the edge.
“Dis am fwuffy Jeesoos temple nao! Go ‘way dummehs!” Jesus ran about the temple, giving sorry poopies to every money lender and prostitute in the building. A horde of people and fluffies rushed out, shouting. Jesus stood at the open doors, “dis am sacwed howy pwace! Bad dummehs get sowwy poopies!” And with that he turned and sprayed the watching crowd.
The local priests became very upset over this and began to plot. They approached Judas, who agreed to help with their scheme, to rid themselves of this false messiah. Yet this did not go unknown to Jesus. He knew his end was near, and it was his fate.
That evening Jesus and his disciples gathered together to break bread. “Hewd, yoo am gud hewd. Dummeh hoomins, but stiww gud hewd. Dis dawk time ish da wast suppah.” The men remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “Da woosta wingy-munstagonna cwow twee times. On da wast time one uf yoo wiww betway Jeesoos. An dat ish okay. It gunna be dat way. So wets num da nummies.” No man, not even Judas denied what Jesus said. It turned the meal somber, only brief small talk filled the air.
The next morning as the disciples were milling about on their usual business, soldiers came about asking about the messiah. Each one was questioned, “Do you know this fluffy pony named Jesus Christ?”
And each one, “Never herd of ‘em.” Or “Hell nah!” Or“rectum? Damn near killed ‘em! But, seriously, fuck that guy.”
The soldiers found Jesus and escorted him to the public square. Throngs of people waited patiently to witness the trial. On the temple steps stood the village priests and Pilate, a very important man, if he didn’t say so himself.
“So,” Pilate began as the crowd shuffled back from Jesus, “you are the son of God. You are the messiah. Well, ya know, I don’t believe that.” He raised his voice, “good people, would you rather see this obnoxious fluffy put to death, or this human man?” He waved his arm towards Barabbas. “Now, think about it…” He paused. “Who shall live? Jesus, or Barabbas?”
The crowd mumbled until a voice in the back shouted out, “Barabbas! Free Barabbas!” People shrugged and joined in the chant. Jesus lowered his head, accepting his fate.
A carpenter pushed his way through the crowd, a small cross under his arm. The soldiers took it and laid it across Jesus’ back. They wrapped a small crown of thorns about his head, his white fluff soaking with red boo-boo juice. Jesus was marched up the street towards the hill. Soldiers whipped at him. He did not cry out, even though he was having the worst owies ever! A small trail of blood behind him as he stumbled. He fell forward, the cross hitting the ground. Mary Magdalene and his mother Mary ran between the legs of the humans, covering his body with their own. Their fluff matted with sad wawa. “Nu, mummah an Mawy. Yoo nu stahp dis.” He gasped as the soldiers re-affixed the cross, their boots kicking the mares from Jesus. The march commenced through the people. The Jews mocked the fluffy and threw garbage and stones at him. It mattered not.
At the top of the hill the soldiers held down Jesus to the wood and drove nails into each hoof. He winced, but still would not cry out. His cross, once upright, stood only four feet tall, high enough for a fluffy.
“Hey, watch this!” The one soldier said to the other, and stabbed Jesus in the side. They giggled to each other, enjoying the torment. The people, unimpressed with what they witnessed, dispersed, leaving Jesus alone with his mother and Mary Magdalene.
“Daddeh… Why, daddeh? Hoomins awe dummehs!” Jesus cried towards the sky.
Jesus heard a voice, not of this Earth, “Dat twue. Dat vewy twue.The ground shuddered as Jesus let out his final breath. The only sound from the hill was from the two mares, sobbing.
It was just two days after Jesus had died on the cross when the twelve disciples joined together for the last time. It was a brief discussion about what their lives had become when Judas became the voice of reason. “Do you guys realized we have spent countless days with a fluffy pony leading us about? It is time for some damage control. Follow me.” And they did.
Judas led them to the tomb and rolled away the rock. Shrouded on the stone table laid their messiah, Jesus.Mark was the first to grab the fluffy and the dozen fled with the package. Underneath the cloak of night the dozen, the herd of Smarty Jesus, burned his body.
As the remains turned to ash and the embers grew cold, Simon, called Mark, cleared his throat, “here is what we must do. We lie. We lie through our teeth. Jesus was a man. Everyone else was tricked. Or… we pretend this didn’t even happen.”
John nodded, “let’s just lie.” The others nodded in agreement and dispersed. The next day, Mary and Mary went to the tomb, spices stuffed into their fluff. The soft cries filling the air. Both gasped at the same time when they saw the rock was moved. They trotted forward, the spices falling from their fluff, but it mattered not.Jesus was gone. The two trotted back into town as fast as they could. Both shouting, “Smawty Jeesoos hab wisen! Jeesoos hab wisen!”
