John’s Yard Part I
John’s Yard Part II
John’s Yard Part III
John’s Yard Part IV
The soon-mummah fluffy coughed in between coarse and ragged breaths. Her focus was on surviving the ickie cloudies now, rather than screaming at just about anything and everything in her vicinity. Her see-places hurt and wouldn’t stop making sad wa-was, and the cloudies had given her insides burnie hurties. Her tummeh babbehs made it very hard to move; her stubby little legs couldn’t even reach her face. She couldn’t understand why this was happening.
With each inhalation, the coughs became less and less intense. The tears flowed less, and the dam was able to blink the excess moisture away and regain her vision. Her throat, dry and raw from the hacking, prevented her from resuming her one-fluffy rendition of a tornado siren. Her breathing slowed, her whole body shook in fear and confusion. Her eyes were wide, seemingly both unfocused yet scanning all around.
“Hmm,” John quietly grunted. He had braced himself for the worst; his hands were up near his ears in case the dam went right back to the screeching. Pleasantly surprised, he brought his arms down, sat back in the deck chair, and relaxed a bit. He wondered if he should get the thing’s attention, and decided against it. John wanted to see what would naturally play out.
He didn’t forget about his other new acquaintance: the yellow stallion who had taken quite a large hit, too.
The male fluffy stumbled around the porch, coughing and crying, and occasionally knocking itself into a railing and the house’s exterior. John would have helped, had the fluffy not aggravated his bad knee. Neither of these two intruders were high on John’s friend list; just high on his weed. He chuckled as he watched the mobile fluffy sputter, whine, and hurt itself.
Fwuffy can’t see.
Why cwoudies huwt fwuffy?
Fwuffy HATE cwoudies. Nee’ see-pwaces to >THUNK<
FWUFFY HUWT. SEE-PWACES, HEWP FWUFFY. NEE’ SABE SPECIAW FWEN’ AN’ BABB >THUNK<
“SCREE-” NUUU, BURNIES.
NUU >THUNK< NUU >THUNK< NUU >THUNK< NUU-
“Jesus Christ, dude, you’re gonna brain your damage,” John laughed, reaching out to stop the stallion from repeatedly headbutting itself between two railings. “What little you have, anyway.” He grabbed the fluffy by the scruff of its neck, and dropped the biomass next to his deck chair. It struggled a bit, being immobilized by something it couldn’t see. “Breathe,” John asserted under his breath, so the dam couldn’t hear. “Breathe. In and out. You’re fine; the smoke is all gone now.” He turned his gaze on the grass where the pregnant fluffy lay, but John never took his hand off the stallion’s scruff.
“Listen, little man,” John sighed. “I really wasn’t trying to mess with you; you’ve been a pretty good guy. You managed to hit the right spot, though, and…well, here we are.” He rubbed his knee with his free hand. “So, I’m just going to hold onto you for a bit so you don’t hurt yourself. Don’t worry about the missus; I’m watching her, too, ok?”
John chuckled, a bit nervously, as he watched the pregnant fluffy in the grass calm down. “Truth be told, I have no idea how long you guys will be fucked up for. But in terms of drugs, this one would probably be the safest for you. I can’t imagine what some of the other stuff does. I’ve heard of fluffy drunks in the cities; I don’t know if that would make me sad, or crack me up, to be honest.”
John paused. He noticed the flushness in his face, and his motor mouth meant the marijuana was doing its job.
He also finally noticed that the stallion had stopped struggling, and hadn’t made a peep in quite some time. Afraid he may be holding a fluffy who had fluffed off his mortal coil, John slowly looked down…
…and stifled a yelping laugh. What stared back up at him was a vacant-eyed stallion, smiling wider than any fluffy John had ever seen, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. It blinked, drooled, and sat on its rear legs. Besides the expression on its face, you would think it was just another well-behaved fluffy.
“Little man? You there?” John inquired.
The stallion blinked, and smiled.
“Fluffy? You there?” John repeated.
The stallion closed its mouth, swallowed some of its excess saliva, and smiled again. “Am fwuffy.”
John blinked.
The stallion blinked one eye at a time, and John watched as the fluffy’s bottom half begin to quake. He immediately grabbed it by the scruff and dropped it off the porch just as a geyser of shit quickly drained out of the fluffy. It was as if someone turned on a faucet. It just kept coming, and the fluffy just kept smiling.
“Oh, fuck. I broke him,” John said, unable to keep his laughter back at the dumbfuck expression on the ever-shitting stallion’s face.
The soon-mummah fluffy wanted to cry and whine more, but her see-places hurt too much and it was painful to make any noises. Her vision slowly cleared, and she could see more and more. Something was different, though. She didn’t know why, but everything she was seeing was simultaneous clear and blurry. Her snout felt funny, like it was running away from her face. Her tummy and insides were tingly; it didn’t feel good…but it didn’t feel bad.
At first.
The dam shook her head, trying in vain to regain some focus, but only managed to disorient herself more. Everything was louder, but also harder to understand. Her breathing began to quicken, the anxiety growing with each new sound or sight with unknown origin. Not being able to cry, or speak, or see, was terrifying. Her eyes darted back and forth, desperate to see anything familiar; the rapid movement only made the visual trails worse.
MMMMWWWWOOOOAAAAMMMMWWWWOOOOAAAA
The dam froze; the sound boomed and echoed all around her. She had never heard anything so scary in her short life.
MMMMWWWWOOOOAAAAMMMMWWWWOOOOAAAA
Again. Louder. Everywhere. Nowhere. How. The pregnant purple fluffy’s mind was shattered by the explosion of sound. She didn’t even notice her stomach churning, and her tail instinctively lift as she pissed and shit herself explosively, the excrement soaking into her fluff and pooling around her chunky legs. Every other system in her mind and body were taxed beyond working order. All her body could do was shit.
“HEY. MAMA,” John yelled for the third time. He was going to pull a muscle laughing so hard; just calling out to the dam prompted another eruption. She was so scared that she was trying her hardest to remain still, except for her dinner-plate-size pupils darting around looking for the source of the noise. “She’s like a non-violent violet T-Rex,” John mused. He waved a hand in the air, and repeated himself.
The dam’s eyes noticed him moving, and John heard the little thing gasp.
“Mama,” John called. “Can you understand me?”
“Am fwuffy.”
John snorted. “Not you.”
The dam was practically vibrating with terror; the noise was from that big dark shape in front of a bright light. It moved quickly and slowly; the fluffy couldn’t understand what was happening. It hurt her thinkie-place trying to make sense of it; the noise was too much and everything she saw moved even when it wasn’t. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Hey, um. Just hang in there,” John said. He envisioned the fluffies giggling and eating too much of his lawn post-hit; instead it felt like he was watching the end of a Darren Aronofsky film. The dam on the lawn was damn near hyperventilating, her mouth opening and closing as if she had completely lost the ability to make any sound. Her whole body shook; she kept staring at him and opening her mouth wide. She kept jutting out her front legs, only to slowly retract them and repeat the process. His knee was still smarting, but John felt he should at least try to help her snap out of it. Or, worst case scenario: ending her suffering.
The dam kept her focus on the big loud object as much as she could, watching it move slightly back and forth. The noises were less loud, but just as unfocused. She wanted to hide under her hooves so it couldn’t get her, but her hooves wouldn’t cover her face. Nothing made sense. She wanted to sob; everything was giving her heart hurties. She wanted to close her eyes, but what if the monster moved closer?
The monster moved closer.
THE MONSTER MOVED CLOSER.
John gripped the arm rests and scooched up to the edge of the seat, hoping his knee could handle the dip down to grab the fluffy. Gingerly extending his right leg, John began to get up…
…and connected eyes with the dam as it began projecile vomitting.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”
“Am fwuffy?”
The dam’s whole body heaved in fear, and sickie wa-was exploded out of her. The first spray was so forceful and sustained that the fluffy could barely suck in breath before the second torrent rocked her. It was like someone was squeezing her insides. Tears formed in her eyes again, but she couldn’t pry her gaze away from the monster. It had stopped moving again, but she was permanently on high alert. She tried to scream, but all that came out between body-racking puking were rasps and squeaks.
John stared, frozen on the edge of his seat, watching this pregnant fluffy throw up more than he thought could have been inside its body. He couldn’t believe it; John knew these living toys were considered overly-abundant fecal factories, but the sheer volume of the shit, piss, and vomit coming from this dam was staggering.
And hilarious. It was like watching a Saturday morning cartoon exorcism.
John hesitated making another move toward her, as his first attempt began the dam’s involuntary impression of emptying out a double-sided tube of toothpaste. Freaking her out more might kill her, and John didn’t know if he wanted to go that far. He began to slowly slide back onto the chair, as the dam retched and watched him.
“Well, hopefully she can snap out of it,” John sighed, grabbing his bowl and taking another hit.
“Am fwuffy.”
John snickered. The dam was so captivating he forgot about his loopy little friend next to him. The yellow stallion had not moved from his spot at the bottom of the porch stairs, the same vacant face smiling up at him. A healthy puddle of drool had formed in front of the fluffy, and ungodly amount of shit pooled behind him.
“Yep, you ARE a fluffy,” John agreed. “Excellent work, bud.”
The fluffy’s yellow tail briefly swished in excitement, sending liquid shit everywhere.
“At least the hose is still out,” John mused. “Are you a good fluffy?”
“Am gud fwuffy.”
John nearly choked. “Hey, adding words now!”
Another tail swish. More flying feces. “F-fwuffy…am gud fwuffy.”
John smiled, happy to be out of the tail splash zone. “Hey, that’s a complete sentence! Sort of. Hmm. Maybe you’re sobering up.” John leaned over the chair closer to the stallion; its tail swished more. “I just hope your ‘special friend’ snaps out of it, too.”
The yellow stallion giggled.
The pregnant fluffy had finally stopped throwing up; the last few heaves were dry and left her rasping for air. The monster shadow had gotten smaller, and she wondered if her sickie wa-was were what kept it at bay. She was safe, for now.
“WHAT?!”
She was not safe. The monster was using words now.
The dam squealed and slammed her snout down into the ground trying to hide herself, only to plunge her face into her own pool of vomit. Her nostrils and open mouth were fully submerged; she quickly whipped her head back, sputtering as the tastes and smells overpowered her. It was everywhere: in her mouth, nose, eyes…her fur was cover and matted in so much disgusting fluffy fluid. It did not smell pretty at all.
The puke soup dip had been the shock to the dam’s system; she shook herself like a wet dog, trying to blink away the tears and vomit. It was getting easier to see, though her eyes still stung. She could begin to make out the world around her. She could finally make out the grass, and the sky. She saw the horrible monster shape in front of her, but let out a nigh-silent rasp of happiness when she recognized a familiar yellow shape. A yellow fluffy.
Her special friend!
He was here!
He was here the whole time; he must have been keeping the shadow monster away from her!
“S-speciaw fwend,” the dam’s voice grated. “Sabe fwuffy!”
John could not contain his bewildered excitement as he turned to face the pregnant fluffy on the lawn. “Wow, so both of you sobered up around the same time. That’s pretty interesting.”
The dam looked up and him, and watched her eyes widen and then narrow. “Munstah was dummeh hoomin,” she hissed.
John barked with laughter, which only pissed off the dam more.
“Hatechu,” the dam croaked. “Stoopi hoomin.”
“Well, that’s not very nice of you.”
“Nu cawe. Hatechu.” The dam turned her head to the stallion. “Speciaw fwend, wan gu. Hewp fwuffy.”
The yellow stallion blinked, and looked up at John.
“Who dat fwuffy?”
. . .
The pregnant purple dam’s mouth dropped.
“N. Nu! Speciaw fwend am…speciaw fwend!”
The yellow stallion, quizzically looking up at John, looked back at the dam.
“Fwuffy nu hab speciaw fwend,” the stallion giggled. He looked back up at John. “Who fwuffy dat?”
The dam looked up at John.
John looked at her. The pregnant fluffy shuddered from the strangely mean smile on the human’s face.
“Buddy, I have NO IDEA who that is,” John answered. “It looks like a bad, ugly fluffy.”
The dam recoiled from the mean words…but her heart shattered from the laugh her special friend let out.
“Dat am twu,” the yellow stallion sniffed. “Fwuffy nu am pwetty. Nu smeww pwetty.” John laughed and nodded. The stallion giggled and swished his shitty tail, as the dam watched in horror and heartbreak. “Nice mistah be nyu daddeh?” The stallion stood up, his front hooves on the first porch stair, his yellow and brown tail wagging with excitement.
The dam screamed, but only squeaks came out.
John shook his head. “No, man. You can’t stay here. As fun as this was, it would be hell to clean up all the time.” The stallion, only understanding a portion of John’s answer, cocked his head. “I’m not your new daddy. But I can show you someplace safe to live. Would you like that?”
The dam, unable to fathom being ignored on top of being forgotten, raged silently; ignoring the taste of booboo juice coming up, she continued to try and make herself known to no avail.
The yellow stallion lowered his ears. “Fwuffy wan nyu daddeh…fwuffy otay wif find nu nestie.”
John groaned as he slowly stood, favoring his knee. “Well, follow me, little man.” John carefully hobbled down the few porch stairs, turning to the seething dam with a grin. “Say goodbye to the bad fluffy!”
“Bai smewwy fwuffy,” the stallion said cheerfully, flashing her a smile and bounding after John. The devastated dam could only look at him, mouth agape in horror, watching the human hobble away and lead her special friend to the opening in the fence they came through. She watched the human point out to the distance, and without a second glance…her special friend hopped through the hole and was gone.
Her special friend was gone.
“Yeah, she seems pretty far along,” John continued. “I know it’s late, but your ad says you’re 24/7. I would’ve come by myself, but I can’t really drive at the moment.” He gestured vaguely to his limp as he led the fluffy breeder up the driveway towards the porch.
“Hey, no problem,” the breeder replied, a carrier under his arm. “I actually don’t live too far away. We’re practically neighbors.”
John shot him a look.
“My facility isn’t nearby, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the breeder chuckled. “I keep work and home as separate as possible. Something tells me you’re a man who likes his peace and quiet, too.”
John’s face relaxed. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting a living siren to show up out in my yard. She’s since shut up, but she’s not all here…”
The breeder grunted. “I’ll know more once I get her in.”
The two men made their way over to the porch, standing above the shivering pregnant fluffy. John had hosed her down again and haphazardly dried her off before the breeder showed up. The dam, defeated, had not fought him; she had since stopped responding to external stimuli, instead focusing only on the hole in the fence. She barely blinked; her breathing was slow.
“Damn, what the hell happened?” The breeder knelt down and began checking her out. “She’s practically catatonic.”
John sighed. “Well, her and her mate stumbled into my yard, and I may have been smoking…”
After John gave him the shortened version, the breeder laughed. “Well, that explains a lot. Pot is basically like a laxative to these things. It makes them shit their brains out, but it usually doesn’t fuck up their brain…permanently. But if you said the male was knocking his noggin around, he could have accidentally reset himself. Any more hits and he would have derped.” The breeder held up a pen-light and check the dam’s throat. “Her, on the other hand. You said the male rejected her? Cold like that? She’s probably close to looping; we just can’t hear her say it because she destroyed her throat from screaming.”
John felt his face turn red. “I’m sorry if I brought you out here for nothing.”
The breeder shook his head, putting his pen-light away and opening up the carrier he brought. “Nah, the babies should be fine, although she puked and shit out everything she ate in the last few hours. I’ll have to hook her up in order to keep them healthy until we can safely birth them.” He picked the dam up and slid her into the carrier. “Probably pop out next day or two.”
“What about her?” John asked.
The breeder shut the carrier door. “Mental fixes like this aren’t worth the time and effort, honestly. Like I said, she’s borked. If she can’t feed herself, she’s not even worth being snake food.” He stood up, wiped his hands off on his jeans, and grabbed the carrier. He noticed John’s face, and gave him a gentle smile. “Hey, I can still sell the babies or keep them for breeding if the colors are good. If you still feel bad about waking me up, come by the house sometime with a bag of whatever did this.” He smiled and extended his hand.
John smiled, reached out, and shook it. “Deal.”
