The cast:
Midnight - A young Earthy fluffy with sable fur and a purple mane, and dark blue eyes, raised by NARRATOR from birth.
Habanero - A young unicorn filly, orange-red with green mane and tail, polite but naive.
Pickles - An earthy colt, young and full of energy, with green fur and a blonde mane and tail. Fixed.
I normally sleep under the covers while Midnight sleeps on top on the over side of the bed. Sometimes, she would nestle into my back and coo, but generally she gives me my space and keeps it down while I’m sleeping.
So when an 8 lb ball of fur crashed into my back and woke me up, I was caught a little off guard. I don’t think they realized they woke me up - not at first anyways.
I heard Midnight over the laughter - “Nuuuu nu wakies Daddeh! Tu woud!”
“Gon’ catch yu Habanewo!” Pickles said, ignoring Midnight’s pleas. Habanero squealed in delight and I could feel then running around the bed.
I let out a groan and slowly sat up, and Midnight pushed passed the others and rested her hooves on my leg.
“Daddeh did Fwuffies make wakies?” She said. I could sense the anxiety in her voice, she was already stressed.
I sighed. Given her history, I wasn’t sure if she’d ever want other fluffies in the house to begin with, and now that they’re here, she’s getting anxiety over them. I looked at the other two, who gave me a big loud “Hai Daddeh!” in unison.
I had forgotten just how loud fluffies could be, how shrill they can sound sometimes. Part of me already feels a pang of regret. On the other hand, they’re adjusting to a whole new environment and life, it’s hard to blame them for just being themselves.
“It’s ok girl,” I pet Midnight and give the other two some attention.
I opened up the bedroom, and let the trio out to explore. I remember what it was like, having adolescent fluffies in the house - so I pre-emptively move breakables - remotes, photo frames, wires, lamps - out of the open. I put on FluffyTV, cleaned the litterbox, and put out fresh kibble.
After my shower it was time to work.
I worked as a social media manager for all kinds of businesses and content creators. I spent hours editing or creating content, engaging with people online, and making my clients look bright, happy, and approachable. I was never any good with people, but I understood numbers well enough, and I knew what to do to make someone’s numbers go up.
It was ironic. I did this for a living, but I maintained only the most barebones social media presence myself, using my personal accounts for little more than testing how my work looks to the audience. I had a TikTok with a paltry 60 followers, and a couple of videos of Midnight as a foal. I paused for a moment to watch one of the videos.
It was Midnight’s first time saying “Daddeh”. The small black foal stuttered and stammered and cooed and peeped until she finally squeaked it out.
There was another foal in the video… Dark blue fur, no mane or tail fluff yet. Midnight’s sister, Navy. The sound of Pickles and Habanero running into the bedroom chasing a ball interrupted my thoughts.
“Habanero! Pickles! I’m working, keep it down!”
The fluffies said “Okie Daddeh!” but continued to play rambunctiously and loudly, until Midnight ran in and chased them back out to the living room.
I sighed.
The fluffies began loudly singing along with the tv at some point, which pretty much ended my work day. I couldn’t focus at all and had to listen to music on my headphones at max volume to drown them out.
Around 7 or 8, I took up the food bowls for the fluffies and walked to the kitchen, stepping over the fluffy gate. I should have made dinner earlier, but I’ve always eaten late myself.
“Alright fluffies we’re gonna have dinner!” I called, as I prepared their meals.
“Daddeh makin’ sketties?” Pickles shouted happily.
“No.”
“Wai nu sketties? Sketties is bestest nummies!”
“Wan sketties!!” Habanero chimed in, egged on by Pickles.
I put together some spinach, nuts, berries, kale, cherry tomatoes, and soft seedless watermelon chunks. As I placed the food bowls down in the rooms both Habanero and Pickles started complaining even more.
“Nu wan! Wan sketties! Nee’ bestes’ nummies!!”
Pickles huffed. “Nu wike yucky gween nums. gib sketties nao!”
“Enough!” I said sharply. I’d been talking fairly softly to them since I got them, this is the first time they’ve really heard the bass in my voice. “You will eat what I give you and be grateful or you won’t eat at all!”
“Pwease hab nummies fwens nu be bad fwuffies!” Midnight pleaded. “Wook, is good nummies!” She tried to demonstrate, and it looked like she might be getting through to Habanero, but Pickles reared up and stomped his bowls, sending both water and his salad spilling across my bedroom.
“That’s it!”
I grabbed Pickles by the tail and picked him up. He screeeee’d loudly and Habanero squealed “Nu gib bestes’ fwen bad upsies! Nu huwt Pickwes!”
“Shut up!” I barked, loud enough for all three fluffies to quit making noise for a moment. As I walked away with Pickles I heard Habanero burst into whiny tears.
I dropped Pickles in the bathtub, too big and slick for him to get out on his own, and even as he protested loudly I closed the door, leaving him in the dark.
As I returned to the room, Habanero ran up to me and began tapping my shin with her hooves.
“Gib back Pickwes pwease nyu daddeh, Pickwes am gud fwuffy! Habanewo need Pickwes! Gib back nao!”
I picked up Habanero by her scruff. “Listen carefully. Pickles is in the sorry box until morning. If you keep acting up, you’re going in a different sorry box, all by yourself. You choose, you can be a good girl and eat your dinner and stop whining, or you can keep whining and then you’ll go hungry, alone, in total darkness.”
“Huuhuuhuu” she sobbed pathetically. “Daddeh nu wub Habanewo.”
I plopped her back on the ground. “Eat.”
I spotted Midnight, chasing down the berries and nuts that rolled away and eating them, trying to clean up the mess. I put my hand on her fluff and she looked up at me with anxious eyes.
“Just eat your dinner sweetie. Daddy will clean this up.”
“Is…” she began, and hesitated.
“ask.”
“Is Pickwes gon’ get wowstes’ huwties?”
I shook my head and pet her. “Not tonight.”
I left Pickles in the dark for an hour, every 5 minutes of which Habanero came up to me and asked “Is Pickwes awwowed out nao Daddeh?” followed by “huuhuuhuu” when I said no. Even after I said stop asking, she could not contain herself for longer than 5 minutes. But finally, I went to the bathroom to check on him.
I had to piss anyways and couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Sure enough, Pickles whimpered and begged to for freedom from the second the lights came on.
“Pwease Daddeh nu moar sowwy tubs, pwease wet Pickwes out, Pickwes su sowwy, nu wan sketties nu moar jus’ wan huggies and pway!”
I stood over him. He had, of course, peed and crapped himself. Stupid creature.
“You were a very bad fluffy. I make good, healthy food for you and you threw it away. So this is your first and only warning. If you do this again, I will hit you with the sorry stick until something breaks, do you understand?”
He nodded enthusiastically while crying. “Pickwes sowwy Daddeh, pwease wet out su I can hab gween nummies? Tummy has owwies, su hungwy!”
“Here’s the deal. You ruined your dinner, and I’m not making you another one. You can survive until morning when I put kibble out, you won’t starve. But you’re going to be very uncomfortable. And I want you to remember that feeling the next time you don’t like what I give you.”
I gave him a bath, to clean his fur and rinse the tub. He started with the “wawa bad” nonsense but I quickly flicked his snout and said “shut up.”
After the bath I carried him, wrapped in two towels, back to the bedroom. As he sniffled he said “Tank yu Daddeh fow baff, Pickwes smell su pwetty nao.”
Habanero pranced around me like an excited puppy when I brought her friend back, and she eagerly wanted to play the second I set him down and returned to my computer, nudging him with her snout and playfully prodding him, but he didn’t respond.
“Was wong bestes fwen? Pickwes hab owwies? No wan pway wif Habanewo?”
“Pickwes hab wostes’ tummy owwies but Daddeh say nu can hab nummies till next bwite time.”
“Habonewo gib huggies and make bettew!”
He whimpered and cried to himself while I played video games. After a few minutes he tried to go off and play with Habanero, but his hungry belly got the best of him and instead he curled up in a ball beside the food bowls and cried to himself. Habanero for her part kept switching between trying to hug him better and chasing one of Midnight’s balls around, and Midnight stayed on the bed, watching them from above.
Eventually, she sauntered over to me.
“Daddeh?” Midnight called softly from the corner of the bed closest to me. I turned in my chair, putting my feet up so she could use my legs as a bridge to walk to my lap. “Can Midnite hab tweat? Pwease?”
I pet her fur gently. “It’s not like you to ask.”
her head drooped but I tilted her chin up. “Hey, I didn’t say no, I just said it wasn’t like you.”
She perked up, her tail wagging. “Weally? Midnite can hab?”
I sighed. “You know you’re awful lucky you’re so cute, you know damn well nobody can say no when you bat those blue eyes.”
I reached into my desk drawer and retrieved two treats. They looked like corks and smelled sickeningly sweet to me. She backed off to the bed and I handed her one treat. Instead of eating it though, she sat it down gently by her feet.
I knew what she was doing, but she seemed so proud of herself for thinking of it, so I said nothing, and pretended to be oblivious, handing her the second treat.
Sure enough she disappears down the stairs, where I can’t see her, and I hear hushed fluffy voices. A moment later she cautiously comes up to retrieve the first treat and carry it away as well, while my back was turned. Of course, I could still see her in the reflection of my phone, which sat inert on my desk.
After a moment, I got up, stretched my legs, and walked out to the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I could see Pickles pigging out on the treat. I got myself some strawberries and cream as a snack and stood at the counter eating.
I called Midnight, and she came nervously walking toward me.
She stood at the fluffy gate, looking up at me.
“I know you gave Pickles your treats. I saw him eating them.”
“Pwease don’ punish Pickwes, Daddeh, Midnite made Pickwes hab tweats! Is Midnites fauwt!”
I reached over the gate and offered her a strawberry. “I’m proud of you girl. You’re a good Fluffy.”
“Daddeh nu mad?” She asked, greedily sniffing the strawberry.
I pet her and let her have it. “Am I mad that you shared your food with a hungry fluffy? That you thought of someone else before yourself? Of course not. That’s what makes you so special. But -” I say with a sly grin. “-If they find out what a softy your Daddy really is, they’ll make all kinds of trouble. So when you go back in, tell them you got the sorry stick for disobeying me, ok?”
She nods with a playful giggle. “Ok Daddeh!”
“They won’t believe you if you’re smiling!” I say as she runs off.
Days blurred together. Midnight was getting along well with the other fluffies, they played together all day every day, though Pickles often ran afoul of the rules - be it by being too loud during work or by demanding new toys or outside time. His infractions were always mild and free of malice though, and over time both he and Habanero became more conscious of the rules.
Rule 1 - Always listen to Daddy
Rule 2 - No special huggies
Rule 3 - Share your toys
Rule 4 - Keep the noise down
Rule 5 - Good poopies go in the litterbox
There was another rule of course, though it didn’t apply to the trio. It was the most important rule of all. It was the rule I thought about a lot when the shoebox on the top shelf of my closet caught my eye. The box contained photos of a woman I didn’t want to think about these days. The woman who inspired the final, golden rule. The “No bad mommas” rule.
They were photos of mom.
I don’t know what kept making her pop up in my head over the weeks that I had Pickles and Habanero. Perhaps I did know, I was just turning a blind eye to it. I noticed Habanero gaining weight. I noticed she had eventually begun to struggle with the stairs. I noticed there were times where she and Pickles hid from Midnight. And then of course things started to go missing from my laundry hamper.
I had them for a month and a half when I was looking at Habanero huffing and struggling to climb the fluffy stairs, when I decided enough was enough.
I called all the fluffies to the bed.
“Listen, we’re all getting a little pudgy, and I think we need some exercise. I’m not working today, so let’s go for a hike.”
“Yay!” Midnight and Pickles both squealed.
Pickles brushed up against Habanero. “We goin’ espwowing?”
“Yeah buddy. We’re going exploring.”
I put them in carriers, but Habanero was now too fat to share with Pickles, so I had to put Pickles in his own carrier while I trusted Midnight to walk beside me. I put the fluffies in the car, though they all hated it, and I drove up to a national park in my town.
To call it a hike was a bit dramatic. We didn’t even go out on the trails. I had taken Midnight out on the trail once so she could see a real horse up close, but it was too hot out and I didn’t want to risk having the less experienced fluffies around a lot of strangers and especially their dogs.
We instead walked across the big grassy field near the parking lot.
Habanero kept stopping, and wouldn’t run and play with the others. “What’s the matter girl, you don’t wanna play?”
“Habanewo tu wawm Daddeh, skybaww is tu hot!” She whined.
“Come on, the whole reason we came here is for you. I didn’t wanna embarrass you but you’ve gotten really fat and you need to exercise or you’ll get sick.”
“Nuuuu”
“Come on, I’ll walk with you.”
Every couple of steps she stopped and plopped down, and I kept urging her to keep going, until finally she wasn’t obeying anymore.
“Come on Habanero, a little more.”
“Nuu! Nu wan wawkies! Hoofies hab huwties, nu can wawk nu mowe!”
“I’m not asking. Come on!”
She huffed and turned her head away. “Nu! Hate dummeh hike. Nu mowe wawkies.”
I gently tapped her with my foot - using no force at all - just to try to nudge her back end into moving, but she Screeee’d like she had just been stabbed and cried out “NUUUU NU GIB SOWWY HOOFSIES! NU HUWT HABANEWO!”
Pickles immediately abandoned his playful chase of Midnight and came running over in a rage. He butted my shin and said “WEABE SPECIAW FWEN AWONE MUNSTA DUMMEH DADDEH!” He pounded against my shin with all the might his front hooves could muster - which was not much at all.
Midnight came running by screaming “Nuuu! Bad Pickwes! Stoppit ow Daddeh gon’ gib owwies! Pwease stoppit Pickwes!”
But the little guy didn’t care, he kept attacking me, even after I said stop three times in increasing volume.
Finally I shouted “ENOUGH!” and kicked him back - not enough to hurt him, but firmly enough to knock him onto his back. He whimpered and sobbed and Habanero screeee’d even louder.
“Speciaw fwen nuuuuu!!”
She started waddling away toward the woods, but she could barely walk, and I caught up to her in a single stride. I picked her up by her scruff and she fought like I was the devil, more stressed that I had ever seen her. She evacuated her bowels and bladder out of terror.
“NUUUU BAD UPPSIES BAD UPPSIES PWEASE WET GU!!!”
Pickles came around for another attack with my back turned. This time I kicked him over on his side and pressed my foot down on his neck, so he could not escape no matter how much he struggled.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Nuuuu” Habanero cried.
“If you lie to me I’ll punch your tummy. If you have any babies inside, they will die. So answer me with the truth, NOW!”
“NUUUU NU HUWT TUMMEH BABBEHS!!! HABANEWO IS SOON-MUMMAH! NO HUWT SOON-MUMMAH! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
I released pickles and carried Habanero back to the car. Pickles and Midnight followed, and Pickles kept attacking my ankles, biting, kicking, and butting me. I calmly put Habanero in her carry case, and I put Midnight in the passenger seat. Then I turned to Pickles.
“Pickwes gib meanie daddeh foweva sweepies! Grrr”
I grabbed him by the scruff and shoved his face against the dirt. “I swear to god if you say another word or try to hurt me again I will peel your skin off and leave you here. I did not hurt Habanero, but I will hurt you if you don’t shut up,” I hissed.
He struggled but I held him down. “Nod if you understand me!”
He kept trying to resist, but once he realized he couldn’t fight me, I released him.
I took Habanero and Midnight home, but left Pickles in the car. Habanero revealed that the stolen laundry was used to build a nest in the far corner of my closet for the coming immobile stage.
I wasn’t really paying attention though. I was furious. As I started to leave, Midnight tugged on my pantleg.
“WHAT?” I barked.
I could see her shaking.
“Daddeh… Is Pickwes gon’ get foweva sweepies?”
My scowl softened for a moment. “I don’t… I don’t know. Maybe.”
Tears welled in her big eyes. “Is Midnites fauwt. Midnite pwomise tu teach fwuffies good but fwuffies nu wisten.”
“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself. You are a good girl.”
“Daddeh?”
I sighed. “What is it?”
“Pwease nu huwt Habanewo an wittwe tummeh babbehs… Huwt Midnite instead?”
I knelt down to her and picked her up and hugged her tightly. “I’ll never hurt you. I won’t hurt Habanero either, ok?”
“Weawwy?” She asked, through choked back sobs.
“I promise. You know, she’s not that smart. She’s going to need lots of help raising those foals. Can I count on you to be a good auntie and raise them?”
“Wats ‘aunties’ mean Daddeh?” She asked, her tears stopping.
“It’s like a momma’s girl friend or sister who helps take care of the momma’s babies as if they’re her own.”
Midnight nodded excitedly. “Midnite be bestes’ auntie ebaw!!! Hewp pwotec’ babbehs!”
I set her down with an “atta girl” and left to deal with the more immediate problem. Pickles.
I didn’t talk to him as I got in the car, ignoring his pleas of “Gib Speciaw fwen back!” and “Soon-Mummah nee’ Speciaw Fwen!”
I pull into the store I bought Pickles at, and carry him by the scruff as I walk in, ignoring his struggling and protests. I walked right up to the counter, and I fully embraced the natural bass of my voice when I bellowed “Hey!” at the cashier.
“What can I do for-”
“You told me all males from this store are fixed!” I shouted.
The cashier, a fat college-aged lady, was taken aback by my volume. “That’s right sir, all-”
“Then explain how this halfwit got my mare pregnant!” I say, holding up the struggling pickles.
“Oh my god, I am so so sorry sir, we’re going to make this right immediately!” she said, scurrying off to the back room.
She returned with a tall, stern man with glasses and nice clothes, who glanced at the struggling Pickles and his repeated demands to be reunited with Habanero, and then back at me.
“So I understand you purchased this fluffy under the promise that he be fixed, only to discover that he’s impregnated your other fluffy, is that the gist of things sir?”
I nodded.
“We pride ourselves on delivering on our promises of safety and quality, and we take our commitment to prevention regarding the feral crisis very seriously. As part of our commitment to stopping the feral crisis, it is our company policy to neuter all males in our stores. Obviously one of our employees made a serious error, and failed to neuter this one, so we’re gonna take care of you. We’ll refund you the full amount for your purchase, and we’ll do the neutering and the abortion free of charge. Or if you prefer you can take the refund, return both fluffies to us for disposal, and take home any two you’d like, from any section except the luxury colors and alicorns.”
I thought about it for a moment. “You know what? I came in here with a head of steam, and I apologize. I appreciate you taking responsibility. I’ll take the refund, don’t worry about the rest. I’ll get him taken care of at my vet, and as for the mare… I’m going to let her keep the foals.”
“Alright, but let me remind you that if you release an unfixed fluffy into the wild and get caught, the police can issue you a fine of up to $2000 per fluffy.”
“I understand, thank you.”
I got my money back and I threw Pickles in the car, but I did not take him home.
I had a friend named Todd who was always a bit… different. He was always the kind of person who pushed boundaries. And when Fluffy abuse became popular online… let’s just say he went from living in his car to being able to afford a nice farm house in the wilderness. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him in the news for murdering hookers in the future, but alas, he was - for the time being - satisfied with mutilating fluffies.
I say friend, but we were more like “facebook friends”. We went to school together, and were classmates for most of our childhood, but we didn’t exactly keep in touch.
I called ahead, and drove over an hour out of town to go see him. I walked up to his door carrying Pickles by the scruff. He had long-since ceased his complaining, and succumbed to pathetic whimpers. I knocked on Todd’s door, and he opened up.
His hair was long and greasy, and he stood in the doorway, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, a bottle of beer, grey sweatpants, and a stained wife-beater shirt. He scratched his beard and finished his smoke with one long drag, spitting the butt onto the porch and crushing it beneath his bare heel.
“What can I do for ya, old buddy?” He said, his voice gruff and unnerving.
In the background there was a barefoot redhead in a sweater and underwear, clearly very pregnant, working on something in the kitchen.
“Who’s at the door?” She yelled.
“Just an old friend from grade school! Mind yer business!”
I cleared my throat. “I heard you help with problematic fluffies. I heard you can offer… creative solutions.”
He nodded. “What did you have in mind?”
I lifted up Pickles. “He knocked up one of my mares. I’d like him to be fixed, but I don’t want him to lose his desire, you know what I mean? I want him to feel that urge and be helpless to relieve it.”
Todd nodded and took Pickles from me. “There was a guy once, he did something similar to a smarty he called Charming. Older dude, if I remember right. Give me like 50 bucks and I’ll have it done in an hour.”
I nodded and sent him the money digitally.
“Wanna watch? We can have a beer and talk about old times.”
I shook my head. “Nah, I haven’t eaten anything today so if it’s all the same to you I’m gonna head out and grab a burger while you do your thing.”
“Don’t waste your money, Molly’ll cook something up for you. HEY MOLLY! MY FRIEND HERE’S STARVIN’. FIRE UP THE GRILL BABY!”
While I didn’t want to impose, I felt like it’d be rude to refuse too. Todd wandered off with Pickles toward the barn, and I entered the house. Molly looked ready to pop any second now, just like Habanero, I guess. I felt a little bad letting this 8-months-pregnant woman make me dinner, but she seemed happy enough to do it.
They had a beautiful continental home. It looked like they were getting ready for their first baby, with the playpen set up in their living room, covers over all the outlets, magnet locks on all the cupboard doors, drawers, and the fridge, and they had all these gadgets for warming bottles, storing milk, sterilizing pacifiers… everything in their house looked like it was from the 1800s, and all the baby stuff looked like it was from the future.
It was weird, this is a guy who tortures tiny animals with toddler brains for a living, about to have an honest-to-god baby. I wonder if he’d be good at it.
After an hour wait, some awkward small-talk with Molly, and a genuinely delicious burger, Todd called for me from outside.
When I stepped out, he had Pickles under his arm, and the fluffy was sobbing. The second Pickles noticed me he started flailing helplessly. “Daddeh pwease hewp Pickwes! Sab Pickwes fwom munstah! Munstah gib wowstes’ huwties ebaw!! Pwease Daddeh! Nee’ huggies tu make huwties go 'way!”
“How did it go?” I asked, ignoring Pickles.
“Well enough. I removed his penis and put in a sterile tube that connects to his urinary tract. He won’t be able to control his bladder, but as long as he doesn’t pull a stitch he shouldn’t get any infections. I left his testes in tact, but I surgically forced them back into his body. So no more balls, but he should still get the urge, especially around fertile mares. I used absorbable stitches, so they should go away on their own in a week. Oh, and as an added bonus, since the blood has nowhere to go, arousal should give him headaches from now on.”
“Thanks a bunch Todd.”
“Hey, if you ever get tired of him, bring him back. I had a funny idea he could help me with. I was gonna take a bunch of legs from fluffies like him and sew them onto this dumbass smarty that keeps whining about being pillowed. I’m thinking I can fit like 20 legs on the stupid thing before I run out of room.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” God speed you crazy fucking lunatic. “Good luck with your new baby!”
With Pickles in tow begging me to give his no-no stick back, it was time to head home.
I was inspired by the positive feedback from the first part so I dove into writing part 2 between playing Mario Party with my wife and reading some old classics like RingOfFire’s work. Todd is inspired by someone I actually know IRL - he was a wild guy who spent most of his teen years and 20s heavily addicted to meth, he quit when he got a girl pregnant, fought like hell to get clean, then bought a ranch for his girlfriend and baby. Dude is big on “off-grid” living, has his own solar panels, grows and hunts his own food, etc.
This is part 2, posted 2024-05-11. Part 3 may take a few extra days to complete because of mother’s day.
