“And that’s all the time we have for today. Remember what I recommended, and I’ll see you next week.”
“You got it, doc. See ya later.” You close the door, and your face instantly falls, failing to hold the fake smile you had been putting on.
Your name is Caiden, a regular everyday person. You have a sister, which makes you slightly more special. But you’ve fallen into a depression a few years ago. You don’t know what caused it, maybe buildup and stress? You always were the kind of person to help, so you guess you just cracked one day. You don’t have much planned except for heading back to your shitty apartment and going to work tomorrow.
The therapist recommended you get a fluffy, but it just seems too expensive. You’ve heard stories of smarties, spoiled brats that would do the most evil things just to get a bowl of the ambrosia of the gods- spaghetti. Then there’s the fact that if a mare even thinks about children once they will scream like a fucking banshee until they get knocked up. Jamming your hands in your pockets, you fiddle around with the garbage in them you never got around to throwing out.
Passing by an alleyway, you hear faint grunting. “Enf… enf… enf…” Oh, gross. Fucking nasty, some fluffies having very loud sex. Fluffies probably have no sense of shame or privacy. You try to pass by the alley until you actually see what’s happening. A mare is being raped by a smarty, while a toughie attempts to fuck her mouth, but she has it jammed shut, still sobbing.
“Gif tuffie mouthie huggies NAO!” Standing on his hind legs, he keeps trying to force himself in. It’s disgusting, it’s cruel how Hasbio did all this shit. Not a single bone in your body doubts that all the ‘sorry poopies’, ‘special lump hurties’ among other issues fluffies have are just schemes to sell more sex toys for your bio toy, and a bunch of cleaning supplies among other shit used to care for one fluffy. But you would be just as cruel as that smarty for watching and letting nothing happen.
You walk over to the toughie, and rest a foot on his head. He tries to look up, and the smarty doesn’t care, humping away. You stare at the toughie.
“She doesn’t want it, asshole.” And you begin to crush the toughie like a soda can. He screams and gurgles as blood begins to pour out, and you stomp down. He explodes into a small shower of organs, bones and blood. God, you had to wash your clothes now. Wasn’t one of your brightest ideas. Definitely something you wouldn’t postpone, you don’t like walking into public areas with blood on your clothes. The mare didn’t notice, as she closed her eyes and sobbed.
“Enfenfenfenfenf!” He’s grunting louder and faster. You rear your leg back after gaining balance again, and…
“GUD FEEWS!”
CRACK!
You violently kick him in the jaw, which causes his neck to break. His head snaps back, letting out a gurgle of pain, and he falls onto his back, dead. You make sure he’s really dead and… damn, the little shit managed to finish. You reach your hand out to comfort the mare, and stop halfway. You just wanted to save her, not get attached. But you take a closer look. A unicorn, beautiful silver fur with a white mane. You heard about breeders making a shit load of money with good colored fluffies. Maybe a side gig so you can spend more money wasting your life away. You touch her, and she doesn’t respond. Whatever, you grab her, try to not let the fluid leaking out touch you. She seems to have passed out. You grab a pack of tissues, and cleaning up the mess as best as you could, and went home.
The door clicks shut, as you look at the apartment. Fluffies were allowed, but you now had the issue of a safe room. You didn’t own much that could hurt it, so you piled up a few newspapers, and gently dropped her on it. Falling down onto the couch, you kept an eye on her as you begin to search up more information about caring for fluffies. You clicked on an article titled “Caring for fluffies and punishments: Hugboxer Edition!” Whatever, might as well give it a read.
Welcome to the guide for you hugboxers that just want a fluffy, but don’t want to spend money on all the cruel weapons and devices to make the poor things suffer!
(You scroll down to the part where the life cycle is at adult.)
When your fluffy begins to eat solid food, there are multiple problems that happen with mares and stallions.
(Once again skipping the stallion part.)
When it comes to mares, they’re much harder to satisfy for some owners. While stallions complain about their need for enfies, mares can set their mind on one thing: babies. It is recommended for those that who do not want foals in their house to fix them at a young age, so they wont fall into a depression at the idea of never having foals.
For owners who cannot do this, it is recommended to limit interactions with foals or stallions. A stallion will seek to fulfill his desire, and unfortunately, he will find that in a mare. Your mare will agree to this, and suddenly you’ve got foals pooping and peeing everywhere.
(Yeah… tough shit. Gonna have to deal with that now. You skip the rest, and go to actual pregnancy.)
Pregnant mares will dramatically swell in size, becoming immobile near the last stages of pregnancy. However, your local fluff-mart can provide things such as poop slides to help. If you are unsure about pregnancy, your fluffy can help indirectly. If it is pregnant, then it will sing songs on end to her tummeh babbehs! When giving birth, it will signal this by screaming “Biggest Poopies”, due to the fact the fluffy will believe that it is pooping.
(Well, one part down. Onto actual motherhood.)
Fluffies will need extensive teachings when it comes to being parents. It is common for feral mares to pick a bestest babbeh, who will be given more milk, treated better, and are at high, almost 100% risk of becoming smarties. A mare may be able to hide this from her owner, so you must look for any signs!
(In your family, Mabel definitely would be the bestest. Doesn’t matter, you still love her and she’s cool to be around.)
It is also common to be very close during birth, as there are a multitude of foal types that will not be accepted, causing the mother to mistreat, or even murder their foals.
The first type are Alicorns. Fluffies are simply unable to wrap their heads around the concept of having wings and a horn, so they will need to be taught that these aren’t monsters. Luckily, Alicorns themselves have no problems, and some fluffies will inherently be born with a better sense of judgement, accepting Alicorns!
(Probably another scheme Hasbio made up. Alicorns become rare because their mothers kill them, Hasbio gets money for various torture devices and immobilization tools, everyone ends up a sad drunk.)
The second type are poopie babbehs. The most common cause is dull colors, and it’s even worse if the foal is brown. They will see this baby as not pretty, causing them to starve and abuse the foal, or outright killing them. However, for you breeders out there, a black foal can be seen as a poopie babbeh, due to not having vibrant colors. If they do not outright kill the foal, then you can make them accept them by prior teachings or punishments.
(Yeah… don’t know if you wanna go down the gratified fly swatter or time out and no spaghetti route with this mare.)
The third type are runts. Runts are unfortunately rightfully rejected by the mares. Runts are foals born underdeveloped, whether it be organs or physical appearance, they will emit a bad smell and cause other fluffies to not like them. The best course of action is, unless the foal is a runt for a different reason other than being underdeveloped and dying fast, is to painlessly euthanize the foal.
(Sheesh. Fluffies are really fucked up if you think about it. How are these kids toys?)
The punishments were a bit interesting. Psychological mostly, but not breaking their minds. Whatever, you throw your blood stained clothes into a washer, put your bloody boots to the side, and take a shower. You felt disgusting, just for touching that fucked up toughie. You heard crying coming from outside the door, so you turned off the shower, threw on clothes, and stepped out to see the mare wandering around. She looks at you, and terror crosses her face.
“Huuu huuu! Pwease nu huwt fwuffy!”
She shits on the carpet. “Oh come the fuck on… why did you have to do that…”
It sends her into a crying fit. “Am sowwy nice mistuh! Wiww num poopies! Nu huwties pwease!” You grab her mouth gently before she starts to eat her own shit.
“Listen to me. I saved you from the toughie and smarty out there. I’m giving you a new home, and there are rules, okay?” You gave a stern look, and she stumbles back, sitting on her haunches with wonder in her eyes.
“Rule one: Poop and pee in that pile of newspapers until I get a litterbox.”
“Number two: You will eat what you are given. You wont get any special food unless you are good. And right now, I can’t come up with any other rules until you are properly situated.”
She nods aggressively, and shifts a bit, and starts crying again. “Huu huu… nu wan bad tummeh babbehs…” You feel sorry for the poor thing. You want a proper medical exam done on her, and luckily there’s a fluffy vet in your area. Does her own work at her own house, so that’s where you’re headed.
“It’s alright, but now we have to go. I’m going to make sure you’re okay. …After I clean up your mess.”
You ring the doorbell, and wait patiently for someone to answer. The mare is in your arms, cooing at your warmth. You hear footsteps, and the door opens. A woman answers the door, in a lab coat.
“Hello! You have a little fluffy friend that needs some help?”
“Uh- yes. Hello. I recently picked up this feral off the streets. I want to make sure she’s okay. I found her with a smarty and a toughie doing, you know…”
“Oh no! That’s horrible, was it the bad kind?” She asks, with a look of distress.
“Yes. It’s how I found her. I want to make sure she’s fine. Heard that breeders make a lot of money off of fluffies like these.”
She looks at you with a bit of sadness in her eyes, probably had to send off many fluffies knowing they were going to live their lives as a milkbag. “Alright… I’ll help. Bring her in here.” She goes inside, and heads down the stairs into a basement. You follow.
It was funny. It looked like a doctors office you would walk into as a kid. Vibrant colors, stickers of animals on the walls, looks like a haven for fluffies. The woman turns to you.
“So, I’ll take her and put her on the table, Janet, by the way.” She looks at you expecting something. Damn, were your social skills that bad?
“Uh- yeah. Caiden. Nice to meet you.” You hold out a hand, and an awkward handshake ensues. Janet turns away and puts the mare on the table. She clicks open a container, and puts a small pellet in front of the mare.
“Hi there little fluffy! I’ve got a nice sketti treat for you here. You can have it!”
“Tank yu nice wady!” The mare nearly inhales the treat. A few seconds later, she looks woozy, and passes out.
“Sedative treat. Now, we find out what’s wrong with her.” Janet feels around her stomach first. “Unfortunately, she is pregnant. Has she been upset over this?” She turns to you.
“Said something about her foals being bad.”
Janet sighs and shakes her head. “She associates the rape with her foals. If one of her foals is born looking like the smarty, there’s no guarantee she will like it. Might even hurt it.”
You scratch your head. You thought mares just magically snapped back to their happy self if they were pregnant. “But wont she be happy about it? I thought fluffies would be happy even if they just saw their whole family die if they learned they were pregnant.”
Janet keeps feeling around and answers, not looking back. “Yes. That can happen with the… less intelligent ones. But the ones that are smart in some way actually have memories that they remember instead of instantly forgetting when it comes to things they like.” Then her hands stop, and trace a line around her stomach. “Ribs are poking through. She’ll need some more food than normal to be healthy again. I recommend visiting the fluff mart, she’ll still be out for a little while.”
“Thanks, and here’s payment. I’ll come back if anything pops up.”
“Great! Does she have a name? I need to write down the visit, her symptoms, all of that.” Hmm. You never thought of that. You look at her silver fluff. She’s a pretty beautiful fluffy by your standards.
“Haven’t had a chance to name her. How about…”
“Argenti.”
Janet smiles. “Wonderful name! I’ll write it down, and don’t forget to visit me again if there are any problems with her.”
You thank Janet again and leave with Argenti in your arms. You look down at Argenti. Peacefully sleeping, you can’t shove down the smiles that creeps onto your face. Maybe this was the key to being back to your normal self.
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