Figured that if I keep writing, might do to have a headcanon lore reference sheet both for me and people that stick around to keep reading. Might post again later if I feel the creative juices flowing, but otherwise, this should serve as framing for the lore in this story. Enjoy!
On the cold ground, with a sleeping fluffy foal in your lap, and her piece of shit sire across from you suspended on a dumpster. You reflected on your life choices and soon distracted yourself with your phone.
Mr.Natelli had confirmed he was indeed more than an hour out, as traffic had not improved much at all from when you passed by the highway earlier. All the same, he promised a raise to stay put with the fluffies and make sure none of them died. Including dumpster Daddy, unfortunately. Not willing to actually let him down and risk the baby fucker either running away or causing worse internal bleeding, more duct tape and more rags sufficed to make a cocoon for the shit rat. The mare was given a lionâs share of the remaining rags for making her own ânestie,â which you at least trusted her to make so none of her foals died from exposure.
As you sat, you began to fear the fact that fluffies were about to be more commonplace in your life. Going from apathetic stander by to fluffy Dark Knight wasnât on your bucket list, but here you were all the same. Not wanting to stay in the dark about all of this, you started to research a bit. If you were about to become some sort of fluffy babysitter because your boss was having a psychotic break and now loved fluffies, you were going to earn whatever money he sent your way.
So, go ahead and walk up to grab your certificate for Fluffy Expert, cause 40 minutes of browsing message boards and forums has caught you up to speed while you struggle to find the will to live.
Decades prior, Hasbio fucked up and let loose semi-psychotic miniature-miniature ponies meant for exotic pets and well-off families into the wild in the mid-south-west. From there, their internal programming-how the fuck do you program a living thing?- slowly broke down. Going from normal and child-friendly toys barely smarter than a goldfish to the shit rats you have today. Damn. Lawsuits ensued, but they managed to stay afloat somehow. Now they mainly sell fluffy products, as the world has slowly started to revolve around their mistake. Fluffies stowing away on ships and cargo planes means that they have more or less become a global issue, resulting in consequences scientists are still trying to find the extent of. So says âfluffapedia: The worldâs largest fluffy data repository.â Not trusting only getting info from a single source, you move to Abuser websites to learn from a more cynical viewpoint.
You have normal house-reared ones still, but even now most people fuck up and let one of three things happen:
- They let their mare loose and get pregnant too soon, resulting in a slew of developmental issues for both her and her babies, including but not limited to:
-Bitchy Mare Syndrome: The mare becomes so entitled that she is either dumb enough to walk up to predators and demand food, or is so horrible to both humans and her babies that she is not long for this world either way.
-Bestest Baby Syndrome: She spoils only one foal so rotten it turns into a âSmartie,â which is pretty much what you have taped up. An entitled psychopathic fucker so far up his own ass that people what to make the metaphor literal. The rest die or suffer fates worse than death.
-SBS: âSensitib babbeh syndromeâ, or what happens when inbreeding or damage to the foals in the womb occurs. You get shit rats that chirp and cheep for months instead of weeks, and never quite reach mental maturity. You would almost feel bad if you then didnât see a video compilation of said sensitive babies becoming fat, smothering their siblings, and then suckling their momâs teats to bleeding far after she stops giving milk. At which point they either starve or if they are large enough, blame their mom for no milk and then give them forever sleepies. Of course dying right after, cause they are too incompetent to eat anything other than milk.
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People spoil their own fluffies into becoming Smarties and then are too soft-hearted to recognize theyâve created a monster so they let it go or give it to a shelter. This board tells you finally what a âhugboxerâ is: someone with no balls to properly train an animal, child, or the in-between of a fluffy into not being a spawn of satan. Some say that hugboxers are just people who treat fluffies better than shit at all, but you need more research.
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Leave their fluffy with a rando who turns out to be an abuser, and then coming home to a robbed house and tortured fluffies. If they are lucky, the fluffies are dead. If not, hundreds in vet fees or the great time of killing your own pets.
Jesus H. Christ and a foal-b-gone cracker. Why does anyone keep these as pets? 20 minutes ago, you started seeing why.
From abuser and pest-control forums to hugboxer ones, you see videos. Videos of fluffies smart enough to read and do simple math. You see therapy fluffies who CAN actually sympathize with mothers going through miscarriages or children of tragedies, more supportive than therapy dogs. Fluffies protecting their homes from invading smartie herds long enough for a gun or machete-wielding owner to water their gardens in blood. Stories of people on the brink of suicide, only for their fluffies to suddenly become verbose and fluent enough to plead for their ownerâs survival.
In the process of their programming breaking down, the natural limiters on fluffies broke down as well. Some displayed levels of intelligence on par with high school graduates, fluffies large enough to do hard farm work or act as guard dogs. Subbreeds like fluffalos can act the part of rescue dogs on snow-covered landscapes, while things called Jellenheimers arose from god knows where. Sub breed? New biotoy created in someoneâs basement? No clue! Just a weird mass of smiling red flesh that you see either adopt in lost foals and make breasts out of nothing for milk, or rip someoneâs leg off. A video also shows one talking in a perfectly normal voice for a 300-lb bodybuilder, about how much they love their owner and getting walks to find smarties to kill. Video included.
Now, youâre left almost shell-shocked as you look down at the foal in your lap. It almost doesnât seem real. Papers that say that fluffies should be protected, as they are currently the only other creature that humanity knows of that can be self-aware. Others show the massive ecological and financial strain fluffies have as they reproduce faster than any mammal humanity knows of. All the while, photos of people hugging and loving fluffies next to people tearing the limbs off pregnant mares. Right before⌠doing things involved with eating.
Good god. Why? You can imagine every situation youâve seen, only with this foal in the center. She cries tears of joy after being told she can have her own babies. She cries again, when an especially sick abuser breaks in, and aborts her babies by hand, his hand causing irreversible internal hemorrhaging as she cries for her owner. In another scenario, she kills every foal she has, as none of them are the âbest babyâ she wanted that looked like her âspecial friend.â Thousand of dollars in alicorns crying in pain and confusion as their only source of warmth and love crushes their siblingsâ heads one by one. She then gets torn to shreds as her owner skins her alive, force-feeding her shit all the while.
You gently set her down as you stand, walk over to a trash can, and retch your dinner out in painful chunks. Stale pizza and energy drinks mixed with stomach bile splatter the inside of the trash can. A minute later, you open your eyes. You freeze, as you see that you just barfed on a chirping brown foal covered in shit and left to die in the trash. Your puke must have been warm enough to stir it back to life, even as your bile starts to irritate its skin. It chirps in confusion and pain, itâs eyes still not open, already fully aware of the cruelty of living and existence.
You are Donavan Natelli, 49 years of age, ex-marine special forces, and deeply closeted hugboxer.