[Author’s notes: long time no see, fluffy community. I’ve been Going Through It as I’m sure we all have these last few years. Finally have the spark to write something new. I won’t be returning to the Ballad of Stormy series for a while, because I just don’t have any sort of creative juice for that one any more, sorry. Hope you enjoy the new stuff!]
June had been named for the month of her birth, an afterthought since her conception. She was a tall, willowy woman, with large dark eyes and brown hair. She favored comfortable sweaters, sensible cardigans, long skirts and soft, earthy colors. She was currently sat in her driveway, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. June had just gotten home from her monthly dinner with her family. The constant, pointed comments. The subtle insults about her life choices, her career. The constant comparison to her older sister Yvonne. Yvonne herself wasn’t so bad- she seemed to actually love June and would sometimes stand up for her when her parents’ comments became too obvious- but her whole life, June had been compared to Yvonne in all ways.
Her parents had wanted Yvonne, had tried for her, prayed for her in church every Sunday. June had been an accident. Once, at a Thanksgiving when she was a teenager, her mother (drunk on too much wine) had breathed her hot stinking breath into her face and told June that she was a mistake. “But abortion,” her mother had slurred, “is a sin.” June had felt very proud of herself back then that she had managed not to cry until she was safely secluded in her room, where she had sobbed silently until she fell asleep. Her mother had never been quite that blatant again, but among the thousands of other hateful moments, June had been well apprised of her family’s opinion of her worth for years. She heaved a heavy sigh, and then got out of the car, heading into the house that served as both her home and her work. It was a two story house, painted a bright sky blue with a yellow door. Above the door was another sign that read “Junie B’s School for Good Boys”. June ran a training school for fluffies- specifically, stallions. She opened the door to the familiar smell of the lavender cleanser she used mingled with the odd sort-of-hamster smell of many fluffies in one place. Even when the pens were kept clean, fluffies had a strong smell that took getting used to. She hung her purse and coat on a hook by the door, and kicked off her shoes and sorted them into a cubby below. June had been a kindergarten teacher previously in her life, and had been a damn fine one at that. Her parents, naturally, had disapproved, but they disapproved even further when she’d burned out on it and decided to look into selling fluffies instead.
Fluffies, after all, had been designed to be companions to children, and thus shared their general outlook on life, mingled with odd, more adult drives like procreation and survival. June had found she’d taken to raising fluffies easily- at first, she’d simply found work at the local FluffMart, where she’d learned everything she could about what a fluffy needed to survive. Then she’d found more work (and better paid by far) as a “biotoy vet” at the local veterinarian- while becoming a proper vet required a degree, becoming a biotoy vet required only a single course- and finally, she had taken the leap to her own business. She hadn’t bothered trying to run a proper fluffy pet store- with a FluffMart in town, there would have been no way for her to compete with their prices, and the amount of breeding it would take to sell specialty stock would be too pricey and take too long, besides. No, June had gone with a different route. She walked around, turning on the main lights of what had used to be the living room, now converted into a reception area. It was painted much the same way her old classroom had been- bright colors, lots of construction paper decorations, books and toys in a playpen for the fluffies her clients brought in, comfortable chairs and magazines for her clients themselves. An electric kettle with tea and coffee for anyone waiting- small jars of sugar and non-dairy creamer. June had been an excellent teacher- calm and kind, with gentle encouragement for all students, no matter how unruly or distractable. She never raised her voice. All children, she knew, needed love, understanding and above all acceptance, and she had prided herself on providing those things to each and every one of her students. She remembered the way that her students had hugged her and cried when they learned she wasn’t going to be teaching them any more. It had been enough to make her reconsider retiring, but the bureaucracy of the school had worn her down, and the principal was the same sort of cold, demanding man that her father was, and she was done.
Stallions were often in demand- far less likely to demand babbehs, far less likely to run away to find a mate, and often easily contented with some sort of fluffy toy to hump. However, they still came with their own difficulties- un-neutered stallions could become aggressive and bossy over time, or attempt to become a “smarty”. They often had issues with pissing on things to mark their territory, and had more energy to work out, which often lead to under stimulated stallions destroying things or trying to escape. Neutered stallions had their own problems, as well. If they were neutered young enough, they would avoid the worst of the issues- a tendency towards depression, as they had no concept of what it was they’d lost- but they’d still contend with others- a tendency toward obesity. June had found a niche- training stallions that people brought in with problem behaviors, raising strays to be good pets- and, her claim to fame. She passed by the staircase that lead upstairs to her own rooms, and passed by the “classrooms” of the stallions that were there on display, to pretend at being trained. She took a key from around her neck, where it usually hid beneath her blouse, and opened the little red door that lead to the basement.
The basement was where her real work took place. Divided into three rooms, with three doors painted stoplight colors- the first green door lead to the classroom that contained her Good Boys, the ones that were nearly done in their training. Next to that was the yellow door, which contained her Okay Boys, fluffies that had either just entered the program, or ones that hadn’t yet earned their way into the Good Boy Room. Finally, a red door, which was the Bad Boy Room. Fluffies that went into the Bad Boy Room very rarely came out of the Bad Boy Room. That room was currently empty, to June’s internal dismay. She instead opened the yellow door and entered a sort of “airlock”, where a second yellow door lead into the room itself. This room was quite small, only big enough that she had been able to hang a little tablet on the wall. The tablet was connected to the various cameras throughout the room, and it let her know how her boys had behaved. Right now, she only had three. Oddball, a piebald pegasus with cream and brown spotting with a brown mane, Bouncer, a sunshine-yellow earthie with a blue mane, and Chase, a orange unicorn with a green mane that Jane was very excited about. These weren’t clients, or strays. She’d purchased these three boys earlier today, knowing she’d need something to focus on after dinner with her parents. She watched the footage, seeing if any of them had broken the rules.
She’d told them the rules earlier, when she’d brought them down into the basement and gotten them settled. They had wiggled and jumped around excitedly as she’d let them out of the carrier and they saw their home for the foreseeable future. It was decorated the same as all the rooms above- bright colors, with construction paper decorations in the shapes of fluffies running and playing, making good poopies and sharing their toys. The alphabet ran above and around the edges of the room- fluffies could be taught to read, something that most people didn’t know. It had been one of their intended original selling points- a biotoy that could learn along with your child so they wouldn’t feel alone. June mostly used it as a way to fill time in between real lessons. As they’d run around excitedly, June had set up her board the way she always did.
She placed her little construction paper effigies of them on the green line on the current day- Saturday. She turned, getting their attention with a gentle clap. “Hello, boys!” She’d laughed as they ran up to her, running around her legs and babbling excitedly. “Okay, little ones, please pick a dot and sit!” She motioned to the ten painted dots on the floor surrounding the board in a semicircle. It took them a moment to understand, but then they sat, looking up at her expectantly. “Now, a few things. I’m not your New Mommy, I’m Ms. June, a teacher who’s going to teach you how to be Very Good Boys so that we can find you homes with the best mommies and daddies, okay? Are you Good Boys?” They all cheered- Oddball and Bouncer both wiggled furiously, tails wagging. Chase puffed up his little chest and threw his head back haughtily. June smiled. Chase had had a warning on his file- possible smarty syndrome. She was excited to see if it was true. “Well, since you’re such good boys, let’s go over the rules!” She pointed to a large sign by the board. Each rule had a depiction of good and bad behavior, with the good behavior in a green circle, and bad behavior in a red box. She knew they couldn’t read yet- FluffMart didn’t bother training their stock better than bare minimum, so she read aloud as she pointed to each one.
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Good Boys do good poops and pees in the litterbox.
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Good Boys never hit or bite.
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Good Boys share their toys.
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Good Boys are nice to everyone, no matter how they look.
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Good Boys always listen to Ms. June.
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Good Boys never touch their no-no stick or special lumps.
Once she’d finished reading them, the turned and smiled kindly at them. “Now, I know some of these rules might be confusing, so if you have a question, raise one of your hooves and I’ll call on you.” Bouncer raised a hoof, and June pointed at him, nodding. “Yes, Bouncer?’ Bouncer looked at the board for a second, trying to remember what the markings meant. “Why nu can touch nu-nu stick ow speciaw wumps?” June smiled and gave him a pat on the head, making his little tail wag. “Good question, Bouncer! Your no-no sticks and special lumps are for babbeh-making only- if you have good feels without making a babbeh, that’s bad.” She emphasized the word bad, frowning and shaking her head. “Mommies and daddies only want Good Boys, not Bad Boys!” She had to stifle a laugh as Bouncer adjusted his seating position so that his back legs weren’t brushing his sheathe or sack. “Bouncew be gud, wanna be a Gud Boy.” June gave him a scratch under the chin.
“And you will be- any other questions?” Chase pointed at the whiteboard with the columns and little paper effigies. “Wat dat?” June ignored him, smiling pleasantly. Chase asked again, louder. “WAT DAT, MS. JUNE?” June still didn’t answer, pointedly looking away from him and speaking in a calm, measured tone. “Good boys raise their hooves and wait patiently to be called on before they ask a question.” Chase huffed, but raised his hoof in the air. June made him wait a moment, watching him tremble with impatience. Finally, she pointed at him. “Yes, Chase?” Chase rolled his eyes- an offense that would merit punishment later, but right now she would choose her battles. He asked again, pointing at the whiteboard- “Wat am dat, Ms. June?” June did not give him a pat, and did not tell him he asked a good question, and a small bit of her rage was sated as she saw the small hurt look on his face as she answered. “That is the board that I use track to see if you’re Good Boys or Bad Boys.” She pointed to each of their icons. “Every day that you’re a Good Boy, I’ll move your face forward on the green line- and when you get to this day-” she pointed to Friday- “you’ll get a very special treat!” She waited for the excited babbling to quiet down before she continued. “However,” she pointed to the red line below the green. “If you’re a Bad Boy, I’ll put your face on the red line, and that means you won’t get any treat at all, and I’ll have to punish you!’ the foals shifted nervously- none of them wanted to be a Bad Boy.
She smiled, and then began the work of caring for them and getting them settled in- showing them where the kibble was, making sure the litter box was clean- the little stallions didn’t know it yet, but they were about to go through hell.