Artwork provided by:
The illustrious @FluffyChimera
The Magnificent @Swift
& Myself
The easter fluff-fair was upon Deacon farms HQ and Mandy was less than enthralled. She wasn’t one for pageantry or corporate peacocking, so this was intended to be just another day for her at the farm, chilling in her office in the back of the mill’s warehouse.
The early morning bustle in the communal staff breakroom was electric: Derek (the ever so beloved boss), was double checking his to-do list and cross referencing it with his assistant, constantly leaving, coming back, hopping on the phone, and back again; black Dave and French Dave (the immaculate security), were chuckling to themselves in hushed whispers; and Billie (Mandy’s friend and the on site head disciplinary), was uncharacteristically sulking into her coffee.
“Hey, who pissed in your cereal?” Mandy sighed as she flicked on the coffee maker.
“Just some home stuff.” Billie replied.
“You got anything to cheer yourself up with, preferably legal?” the redhead suggested while stirring creamer into her garbage quality, three day old, reboiled java.
“Yeah, my favourite day of the year.” Billie giggled, looking towards the utility closet with a sudden change in mood.
“Yeah? Alright, well that’s not so ba-”.
“Morning everyone.” Derek Deacon called out, swaggering into the room, all the while adjusting his glasses, “we have a great day ahead of ourselves. The annual spring fluff fair!” he explained.
“'Kay, and? Isn’t this like the summer fluff fair?” Mandy asked with crossed arms. Her answer was swiftly given with a group chuckle. “The fucks so funny?”.
“Summer fair is sponsored by AbuseCo, Spring fair is hosted by all the namby-pambly wishy-washy fluffy lover types.” Billie explained with a grimace, “and those kinds of ‘people’ pay hand over fist, the big dosh.”.
“Right, so it’s a publicity stunt and a cash grab? Gotcha.” Mandy replied with a jaded smirk.
“Partially, but it’s also the highlight of the year for Ditsy Deacon: our company mascot.” Derek said as he began walking towards a utility closet in the corner of the breakroom, “She has something of a cult following, with merch being sought after from England to Australia.” he added.
Mandy looked to Billie and felt off put by her excitement. She sat with coffee in hand, rubbing her knees together, with her lower lip tightly bitten, and her converses tapping giddily against the vinyl floor.
“And of course, what sort of mascot is a mascot… without a mascot SUIT!” he said, before pulling out a ratty old Ditsy Deacon suit from the back. He patted the dust and mothballs from it and allowed Mandy to get a good look.
“It’s… uhhh… well…” Mandy said as she looked at the pink body and mint green mane, the awkward proportions and walled eyed expression on the mask.
“Glorious, isn’t it?” Derek smiled proudly, Holding aloft an item of garb that wouldn’t even pass the sniff test at one of those degenerate fursuit conventions.
“You want my honest opinion?”
“Yea-” he replied, but before Mandy could even release a single syllable from her mouth, a magenta and purple pegasus filly by Derek’s side popped off.
“Daddeh, dat am nasty wookin’!” Bianca cringed.
“HA!” both the Daves laughed in unison.
“Cool, so, I take it Billie will be wearing it?”
Mandy inquired with a raised brow and a smirk.
“It’s held to a vote, but I always get it, ‘cus none of these wankers wanna wear the fookin’ thing.” Billie grinned smugly.
“Why do you seem happy about this?” Mandy asked in an alarmed tone, before turnings to her boss, “Derek, why does she look happy? Make her stop.” Mandy ordered.
“Billie and I have a deal.” Derek sighed, “She ‘bears the burden’ and everyone else walks away happy.” he admitted with a shrug.
“And what do you get out of it?” Mandy inquired towards her friend and coworker. “Forgive me if I struggle to believe in your charitable nature.” She squinted.
“I just like the suit, makes me feel proper sexy…” Billie replied with a shit eating grin.
“She uses it when she goes out fluffy stompin’.” black Dave interrupted.
“Amongst other activites.” French Dave added.
“Explains the smell.” Mandy cringed before turning back to the topic of discussion, “You didn’t… umm… you know… in this?” Mandy asked with a rose tinted face.
“Nah…” Billie giggled.
“Oh, thank go-.”
“…Only anal.” she added with a victorious smirk.
“NOPE!” Mandy said, tossing it to the smug disciplinary, “I vote Billie!”
“Me too.” French Dave sighed.
“Same.” Derek’s assistant added shyly.
“Of course.” Derek nodded, “Well, as always, it looks like it’s going to be Bil-.”
“Hang on, boss!”, black Dave said before getting up from the breakroom couch. He began wandering around the room, hands grasping the lapels of his security jacket like a stereotypical southern lawyer.
“Naow, I’m jus’ a simple country securiteh guard, but if I recall correctly in our employment contracts: paragraph twenty six, sub-section b. You said that we all gots to wear dat there suit upown the first year of our employmentashun.” he grinned with a cartoonishly put upon accent.
There was a stark and terrible silence as everyone registered what was said.
“…is that true?” Derek genuinely asked his assistant. To which she began aggressively flicking through her work tablet.
“Yes, sir.” she confirmed with a surprised face.
“Well, it’s… In the contract… so.” Derek shrugged.
Mandy’s face turned slowly towards black Dave, standing there, proud of himself, FAR too proud of himself.
“Well Mandy… as unfortunate as it is… it appears th-.”
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Mandy screamed as she began crawling over the coffee table to throttle him.
There was screaming, clawing, biting and threats of castration, but in the end, hell’s die were cast.
-Thirty Minutes Later-
“Come on, Mandy, say it.” Billie teased.
“Suck my dick!” she hissed back.
“Say it or you’re suspended without pay.” Derek threatened.
“Have a… fwuff-… tastic… day.” Mandy scowled through gritted teeth.
“No! More fookin’ gusto, ya lazy bitch!” Billie grinned like the twisted sadist that she was.
“Have a fwufftastic day.” she replied with disdain.
“I want you to cheer the kids up, not scare them!” Derek complained.
“HAVE A FWUFFTASTIC DAY!” Mandy screamed, her eye twitching with molted hate.
“Thank fook there’s a mask, am I right?” Billie chuckled, to which the two Daves and Derek’s assistant laughed involuntarily.
“I… will kill… all of you…” Mandy seethed.
The nonsense carried on, along with the teasing as the staff gathered outside to set up the fluffy pens, peppered around the field by the parking lot.
Mandy struggled with the suit’s mitt styled gloves, awkward body proportions and surprisingly heavy feet.
After a while, the pens and tents were all set up, the entertainers came in, and the show was ready to start.
A magician’s tent, a fortune teller’s tent, an arts and crafts tent, and plenty of snack and giftshop tents.
“Who the fuck are these guys?” Mandy inquired, looking at the unknown people manning the majority of the tents and setting up their activities.
“Just some carnival and gypsy folk. They’re a tad rough but I’ve never had problems with them.” Derek assured as he helped set the pens up.
“Relatives of yours, Bill?” Mandy grinned cheekily.
“Fook off. This lot are Shelbys, I’m a Westwood. Completely different thing.” she scoffed.
“I don’t know, you all just look like scruffier, slightly swarthy Englishmen to me” Mandy shrugged.
“We can’t all have ya sexy little freckles, Mandy.” Billie teased back as she began hammering in the last post.
“And speaking of which, yer pale arse is better off under that mask. Don’t want yer delicate ginger skin baking under the sun.” she added, twisting the humiliation in deeper.
“Nah, you’d just rather me roast in here than bake out there”. Mandy sighed.
The fluff clad redhead took a walk by the already set up pens; human interaction was whittling away at her will to live. She took in the sights and watched as one by one, pens were being filled, peppered across the emerald hued field, she’d almost fell better, if it wasn’t for the discomfort of the suit and the intensity of the morning sun.
The suit was awful, stuffy, poorly ventilated, it chaffed and gave her the single most uncomfortable wedgie of her life, the sort that yanks any loose hairs and keeps them that way, regardless of walking style. Mandy just knew that today was going to be one of those days.
She leaned against a pen as Dave and Dave started filling it with choice selections of mummahs and foals, a petting zoo pen and a good way to show off the goods to the visitors who’d be chomping at the bit to order one after seeing how lovely, obedient and polite they are.
“Hewwo madam Mandeh, haow am yew?” Coffee, a brown alicorn and head nurse mare chimed as she walked up to the gloomy ginger vet from within the pen.
“Oh, hi Coffee. I’m… fine.” Mandy shrugged, tugging at the pinching stitch work and fabric, clinging to the sweat of her skin.
“Yew wook siwwy.” she stated innocently.
“I feel silly.” Mandy chuckled awkwardly. “Apparently everyone has to wear this stupid thing at least once… I’m not thrilled.”
“Id smeww wike stimkies an enfies.” she pointed out, “Nu smeww pwetty ad aww!”.
“Yeah, I’m aware.” Mandy sighed into her mitt covered hands.
“Cowffie am hewe an yew wook sadies, yew nee com-pan-ee?” she offered.
Mandy had a reputation as a hardass, with many a chip on her freckled shoulders. She looked around, afraid that her closeted affections for the innocent whimsy of fluffies would earn her another round of teasing, only to freeze upon seeing black Dave watching her. She looked at him, he looked back and gave a knowing nod.
“Hey, we’ve all worn it at least once.” he reminded, “My advice, make the best of it, as my cousin always tells me: ‘Treat yo’self!’.” he smiled before taking off to go fill another pen.
Mandy let out a relaxed exhale. “Okay, Coffee, looks like you’re my problem for the day.” she smiled as she reached down, picked her up and placed her on the grass outside of the pen, right by Mandy’s feet.
“OH TANK YEW TANK YEW TANK YEW!” Coffee exploded before giving Mandy a big and most grateful hug on the calf. “Cowffie am gun mayk yew heawt huwtie gu way, pwomis!” she assured.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Jus… umm, dewe am wun widdwe pwobwem.” the chocolate coloured mare admitted as she coyly tapped her front hooves together.
“What?”.
“Am spose tu keep see pwaces un nyew nuwse mawe dis bwite timsie.” she explained, pointing to a chipper snd optimistic young mare.
“Hewwo! Am Bwamdy!” the burnt honey hued mare waved with infectious glee.
“Well, okay… Wouldn’t want you getting in deep shit with the boss.” Mandy sighed.
“Dems bad wowdsies!” Brandy scolded.
“I’m fully aware of that.” Mandy replied with a grumbled.
She reached down, grabbed the other mare and brought her to stand beside her mentor.
“You two stay close. If you die, it comes out of my paycheck.”.
“OTAY!” they beamed in unison.
The trio passed by several pens, and a few were clearly more important than others:
A ‘natural’ fluffy pen was the first stop, filled with platinum whites, ebony blacks, freckled gingers, dappled browns, peppery greys and splotchy creams, and all of them earthies.
“Charming” she noted. She watched how this herd of eight females and one male were bred and raised specifically to mimic true equine herd characteristics, with a head mare leading and a stallion to serve as both stud and protector.
Clearly this herd was here to show off Deacon farms excellent conditioning and to advertise their services to the more purist minded ‘horse girl’ types.
Next stop was the ‘custom orders’ pen:
A beautiful menagerie of specially bred and raised fluffies. Very specific coats, very unique means, very uncommon breeds, and very select mutations from very discriminate breeding; with four winged pegasi, two horned unicorns, plaid patterned fluff and star shaped pupils, all on display like a mad circus of oddities, a freak show amongst the freakish.
Coffee appeared nervous in the presence of them, and Brandy was no better.
“Oi, you good?” Mandy asked.
“Scawedies.” Coffee answered truthfully, hiding behind her chaperone’s leg.
“Dey nu wook wite…” Brandy shivered from behind the other leg.
“Is it because of the extra wings and horns. You’re an alicorn, Coffee, you’re just as odd… Well, not AS odd, but odd enough.” Mandy tried to half console and half chastise.
“Nu, I’d nu am dat… Am… Shy…” Coffee said, hiding her face under her nurse mare’s hat.
“YOU HAVE A CRUSH!” Mandy exclaimed, teasing and yet tickled pink at Coffee’s genuinely charming behaviour. She knew what that look meant better than anyone.
“Sh-shuddup…” Coffee wobbled out, half giggling and half shocked to be found out, peaking up from her cap at a particular fluffy in the pen:
He was handsome, a unicorn, with a golden and sparkling coat, a long, glittery and wavy mane of deepest night sky blue that partnered well with his pupils of star shaped amethyst. To add to his stunning form, he had surprisingly long legs and a rather trim build, he almost looked more like a miniature horse than a chimeric pig-rat-horse-thing, akin to the rest of his peers.
“You, sparkle butt, what’s your name?” Mandy asked, to which the handsome equine trotted over with the canter of a prince.
“Gud mownin’ pwetty wady, am Adonis.”
“uh huh, figures.” Mandy sighed.
“wy am yew wookin wike fwuffy?” Adonis inquired towards the mascot clad vet, cocking his head to the side like a curious puppy.
“Because Derek is an arsehole.” Mandy said openly. She suddenly felt a bop on her leg.
“Nu tawkie bad bout mistah Dee-kan! Mistah Dee-kan am daddeh fow Cowffie bebbeh, Bee-an-ka!” Coffee snorted.
Brandy seemed genuinely shocked, flabbergasted even at her mentor’s sudden behavioural shift. She had never seen a fluffy give orders to a human, or hit them, for that matter.
“Hit me again and I’ll rip your fucking leg off and beat you to death with it.” Mandy calmy threatened back, to which every fluffy in earshot gulped.
“huuhuu, scawy!” Brandy squeaked as she fell to the ground and covered her eyes with her hooves.
“O-otay… Bu pweas nu say meanie wowdsies bout mistah Dee-kan.” Coffee said meekly, trying to stand her ground, even as the sudden change in Mandy’s tone and the intensity of her glare forced a scared little fart out of the head nurse mare.
There was a terrible silence as every fluffy in ear shot watched on, unblinkingly. Two fluffies playing catch with the ball stopped and turned, with the one being struck in the side of the face not even reacting; another looked up from his water bowl, in such a state of shock that the precious aqua came spilling from his nostrils; and lastly, the noble Adonis, so majestic, so handsome, the picture of biotoy perfection, pissed himself and shivered like a fearful child.
Mandy herself huffed at the head nurse mare and stomped off some distance.
The silence was cut finally as Coffee steadied her nerves and took a heavy exhale. She took her nurse’s hat off and wiped her forehead, as if there were any sweat to wipe.
“Tank gudness dat am obew.” she sighed.
“Yew am so bwave.” Adonis said in awe, “Yew mus’ be bestest poopie munstah nuwse ebah!” he coo’d.
“oh… umm… tank yew?” she replied, unsure of how to process such a thorny compliment, but clearly it was spoken with not an ounce of malice from the fanciful stallion.
“Yew mus be su stwong! Nebah see aneh fwuffy tew hoomin wat du, an hoomin WISTEN! Nuwse mawe am su coow!” he gushed with sparkling eyes at the blushing Coffee. Only then did she notice a half chub going from betwixt his hind legs.
“Hehehe! Oh stawp! Cowffie am tuu owd fow yew, siwwy!” she giggled, fanning her face with her hooves.
“Wen daddeh com pick Adonis uppies fwom fawm, am gun askies fow speshew fwend jus wike Cowffie.” he huffed in a lustful lather, hopping up on his hind legs and throwing his front legs over the railing, to better get a look at the object of his apparent new fetish.
“Uhhh… oh…” she blinked, “Dat am su… sweetie.” was added as her eyes slowly trailed down. She was fairly certain that Adonis kept saying words after that part, but they were not committed to memory; there were other things she was in the midst of taking a mental picture of.
“Su pwetty, yew wan be speshew fwend fow dis bwite timsies?” Adonis requested.
“Oh stawp!” Coffee giggled bashfully, waving off the request with a flick of her wrist. “Am owd enuff tu be Adonis mummah!” she squeaked like a shy filly.
“Dat am otay wid Adonis!” he declared with soft panting.
Eventually the conversion/drool session concluded with a friendly goodbye and wave. After some proding from Brandy.
Coffee’s spirits were rather lifted by the interaction, but swiftly lowered as she cautiously returned to Mandy’s side.
“You done hanging out with your new boytoy?” she chuckled.
“Nu mayk fun ob Cowffie… Dat am meanie.”
“I wasn’t, dumbass. You think I actually would rip your leg off?” Mandy inquired, “I mean, I would, but you’d need to try harder than just giving me a little tap on the leg.” she added.
“Yew hewp Cowffie tawkies tu Adonis?” she asked, “Wy?”.
“Because… being alone sucks, and it’d be nice to see someone be happy for a second. You know what I mean?” Mandy smiled.
“Umm, Cowffie thinkies dat Cowffie kno wat miss Mandeh am sayin’.” she replied, clearly oblivious, which only forced a defeated sigh from the vet.
“Christ… I miss Cream, she always got the shit I was spouting.” was the low toned reply.
“…Yeh…” Coffee confirmed at the mention of the recently deceased.
“You miss her?” the vet inquired.
“Wots an wots.” she replied as they strolled along to the next pen.
A big bold sign stood out, slapped right upon the broadside fence of the next enclosure: “ADULTS ONLY!”, and upon seeing the silhouettes of the dreaded creatures sat within, the mascot clad Mandy grumbled in disgust.
“Fuckffies… wonderful…”.
It appeared that Derek had been reaching out and shaking hands with other business savvy gentlemen, and one of his big moves had been a chance meeting with one Mr. Big Bob Hudson, your classic American businessman, salt of the earth sort of man, despite his near incalculable wealth.
It appeared that Mr Hudson also wanted in on the fluff fair shenanigans. And at first, Mandy dreaded the thought of so many children being exposed to these horny little demons, yet her fears quickly abated as the Biophallus programming appeared to be exceptionally strong.
“Look Mommy, big fluffies!” a seven year old screamed with joy, running up to the fence and throwing her little arms over the railing to get a better look at them.
Suddenly and without hesitation, the XXLs turned their backs on the little girl. Not out of malice, nor spite, but to preserve her innocence. They proceeded to do absolutely nothing that would entertain a child. One began grazing on a patch of grass, another just started looking at the clouds, another began tapping his hoof at the dirt, and the fourth one proceeded to begin spouting off to the girl’s dad about the current state of the stock market, and what she recommends he put in his portfolio for the next two quarters.
“These big fluffies act like grown ups…” the little girl sighed in disappointment, before noticing the fluffies in the adjacent pen playing patty cake and immediately ran over to watch them.
As soon as the child was out of ear shot, the fuckffies went back about their business, with the other three trying to solicit any childless adult that walked by, with the exception of the one that was still engaged in a lengthy conversation about blue chip stock with the little girl’s father, who appeared to actually be writing down what she had been saying.
“Oooooh, big fwuffies!” Coffee exclaimed, bewildered by the virgin sight.
“Nah, they just look like fluffies.” Mandy noted with crossed arms and a stern glare from behind her mask.
“Huh? Dey nu am fwuffies?” Coffee asked with her head cocked to the side, “Den wy dey wook wike fwuffies?” she added.
“I learnt this sort of thing at vet school. You see, genetically speaking, you’re not compatible. You may look the same… Somewhat, but on a genetic basis, you’re about as far removed as a fox is to a wolf.” Mandy explained as casually as she would to a fellow vet. And all the while, Coffee and her nurse mare in training both nodded along with silent affirmations, completely oblivious to the silly ramblings of her human chaperone.
“…oh…” was her only reply.
“Did you get any of that?” she asked.
“Umm, Yippee munstahs am nu da samsie as howlie munstahs?” Coffee tried to repeat back.
Mandy let out a long and defeated sigh, until she simply reached down and ran her mitt across Coffee’s curly brown mane.
“Sure, yeah… Just like you and them.” she added.
“Oh!” Coffee giggled, with the dim little cracked light bulb in her mind finally sparking up with a flicker. “Wy din’t Miss Mandeh jus saysie su… Siwwy.” Coffee snorted playfully.
“Hoomins say funny wowdsie sum-timsies, miss Cowffie.” Brandy added with a giggle.
The morning continued on as Mandy looked about her vicinity and took in the smells of sizzling burger and hotdog vendors, the sounds of giggling children from the early arriving families, the scolding of the helicopter parents and the whimsical, attention grabbing sounds of excited fluffies, all chomping at the bit for a new owner and to make mister ‘Dee-kan’ proud of them. The day had truly begun, and quite frankly, if it weren’t for the suit’s boiling temperature and chaffing crotch, Mandy would be having a grand time in her own right. The sights and sounds of joy, pure jubilation was intoxicating for a closeted softy. In truth, it made her feel as though she had been transported back to a better time, before her view of fluffies had been tinged so murky.
She jumped behind a pretzel vendor’s tent and popped the head piece off to breath for a moment. She knew not to take it off in public, as for the next eleven hours, she was the walking physical embodiment of the Deacon farm’s spirit.
She walked around, practicing her best fluffspeak mummah voice. Her usual low toned vocal fry, dripping with cynicism was buried deep, muffled by the felt and fluff, and masked further still by her sincere desire to make children happy. Mandy genuinely loved seeing the innocent smiles on children’s faces as they picked up and chose their first fluffies. Her heart swam when she saw a seven-year-old girl win a game of ring toss, to then receive a sea-fluffy foal in a plastic bag to take home. So too did her heart slip a beat when a thirteen-year-old boy picked out the edgiest looking fluffy to take home after winning the water gun vs ballon game.
“I’m gonna call you: Nig-.” He went to say until the slap of his mother’s hand struck the back of his head, knocking his chucky cheese snap back over his eyes.
“Like hell you will, Zachary. You’ll name him Crumpet, and that’s that!”.
It reminded Mandy of how her dad used to get chewed out by her mum when he got into pub fights with rowdy patrons: The simpler times, before her life’s trajectory landed her in a sweltering, portable coffin of a mascot suit.
She felt a pat upon her back and turned to the originator, it was Billie; and with an expression on her face that Mandy had never seen before.
“Ya havin’ fun yet?” the piercing coated short-fry giggled.
“No.” was the response.
“Lyin’ bitch.” Billie teased back.
“I guess, seeing kids and fluffies actually be happy is in and of itself a breath of fresh air.” Mandy smiled beneath the mask. “Ironic, right? You and me, spending every day breeding, scolding, and raising these little shit factories… You kind of forget that we breed them so a little kid and fluffy can make precious memories together. Ya know?” she asked.
“Couldn’t give a rat’s arse about the shitpigs me’self.” Billie admitted with a shrug, “but the kids, they deserve a lil’ somethin’.” she said with a tone of uncharacteristic sincerity. “Kids only get one childhood, and It should be a fluffy’s job to make it a half decent one.” she added.
She looked to her coworker and felt strange, as if she had been given a glimpse into a part of Billie that she’d never had the privilege to witness. It felt endearing, and to Mandy’s shock, sparked a twang of respect.
“You like kids, don’t you?” Mandy asked plainly.
“Oi!” Billie hissed, “I ain’t no fookin’ nonce!”.
“You know what I mean, retard.” Mandy chuckled, “You have a soft side for them, right? You hate people, you hate fluffies, hell, you hate me, but you care about kids. Come to think of it, the one way I haven’t seen you hurt a fluffy is by going for her chirpies; and that’s like basic fluffy abuse 101 shit.” she explained calmly. Mandy then felt a punch in the side of her arm.
“Shut yer cock sucker!” The manic pixie of a woman ordered.
“Ha! Make me, slut.” Mandy cackled beneath the mask.
Suddenly, the duo were thrown off guard, as a child ran up and threw her arms around the mascot glad woman.
“H-hello Ditsy, thank you for letting my daddy and me see all the pretty fluffies!” that same seven-year-old from earlier squeaked giddily.
Mandy stood shocked as the little girl’s hug tightened. Her squeeze was not painful, but warm; which in truth, did not help with the sweat situation going on beneath.
“Well go on then, Ditsy… Say something to the nice girl.” Billie lightly prodded with an uncharacteristically mother-like tone. And as quietly suggested, Mandy cleared her throat and got down on one knee.
“Hewwo widdwe hoomin-fiwwy! Ditsy am su happies dat yew am habin bestest bwite timsies!” Mandy replied with her best fluffy voice. “Hewe, jus fow yew, hab biggest bawwoon.” She added while handing the little girl a helium filled, shimmering heart of a balloon, that was wider than her torso.
“Oh, umm, how much is that?” her dad inquired, reaching for his wallet.
“Nuthin’, id am pwesent!” Mandy replied.
“Heeheee, thank you, Ditsy.” the child beamed as she took her gift. “Love you!” she added before laying a kiss on the mask’s cheek and running off to look at the sea fluffies in the nearby pond.
Mandy got up and waved goodbye before then patting the dust off of her overheating uniform.
“I don’t, you know…” Billie let out quietly, just loud enough to catch her coworker’s ear.
“huh?” was the reply.
“Hate you, I mean. I don’t hate you.” she clarified awkwardly before clearing her throat.
Mandy thought on the response she aught to give, as in all their time together, for all of the unique relationship that they called ‘friendship’, she had never seen Billie: the boozing, sadistic, fluffy torturing hell-slut, act in any way that could be described as tender. And before a single syllable could escape her lips, the manic pixie of a woman swiftly slipped away, back to her job at the pens, keeping shitrats in line.
She paused and watched the woman work, chastise, bark and threaten any shitrat that got in her ever burning gaze, but now, Mandy knew that truth, that beneath the beer, the sex, the violence and cruelty, Billie Morgan Westwood: head disciplinary at Deacon farms, was a human being; horribly flawed, but a human being nonetheless.
“Miss Mandeh?” Coffee chimed in.
“Yeah?”.
“Wy am Miss Biwwie such an buwwy?” she asked.
“Behind some bullies is just a bigger bully… I dread to think what sort of person made her that way.” Mandy said aloud.
“Bu… Miss Billie am showt hoomin-mawe… su… da buwwy am jus gon be nowmaw hoomin, nu big?” she pondered, rubbing her chin as she considered and calculated the hypothetical ‘big bully’.
“No, it’s just a figure of…”
BAM
A sudden shove and bump nearly knocked the six foot one woman to the ground. She steadied herself and caught her descent with a dab bit of quick footwork and an instinctual gripping of a nearby railing.
“Oi, watch it dickhe-…!” Mandy went to bark, freezing in disgust as she came face to face with a sight that filled her with frosted dread.
“H-helwo Prwetty Mawres!” a man spoke in terrible fluffspeak from beneath a mask of his own. his suit was fancier than Mandy’s, incredibly so, although its stitching and seems did appear stretched and worse for ware, fighting to contain the undulating mass beneath the felts, stuffings and fabrics. It appeared to be modelled on one of the characters from that pony show that started the whole fluffy craze to begin with. Mandy was only sure of this when her eyes trailed down and took a glance at the shimmering shield cutiemark upon his padded white ‘flank’.
“Hehehe yeuw am sooo prwetty.” he audibly drooled at the baggy Ditsy Deacon suit. “Want be spechaw fwiends?” he asked.
Even under the safety of the mascot suit, Mandy couldn’t help but find herself feeling incredibly molested by the dead-eyed stare of this mask and the man beneath it. She froze, unable to form a word at the hideous proposition from the fluff suited pervert.
“No.” she said clearly.
“Awwwwwww… Cum on! Cadence nu haff to know.” he giggled creepily.
“Fuck… off… you… creepy… cunt.” she hissed from beneath her suit. The aggressive shift in tone and defensive stance immediately sent the man within into a state of shock and visible annoyance.
“Okay, what are you doing?” he replied.
“The fuck you on about, wanker?” Mandy growled, prodding him in the chest with each word.
“You’re dropping character, you dopey slut!” he whined back.
“Call me a slut again and I’ll stuff your rancid microdick into the rusty old Geldie we keep out back!” Mandy threatened with a stomp, stepping forward and chest bumping the man backwards with the aggressive skill of a rugby captain.
“GU WAY BAD BIG FWUFFY! NU SAY MEANIE WOWDSIES TU MISS MANDEH!” Coffee ordered with puffed cheeks.
“Y-yeh, enf off, nu-nu stick head!” Brandy added, punctuated with a blown raspberry.
“Pffft, fucking frigged newbies. Probably virgins too.” he scoffed with crossed arms, “Get a few cocks up ya, then you three’ll change that tone of yours. You sound like a bunch of mares in heat, in need of a good dicki-WOAH!” he suddenly exclaimed, just barely dodging the right hook from a furious Mandy, fully absorbed in the throes of blind rage.
“I’LL KILL YO-” She went to say, until black Dave threw his arms around her waist and lifted her high from behind.
“Woah, woah, woah, ‘Ditsy’!” he exclaimed, as she flailed, kicked and punched at the air like a feral animal. “Hey, ‘DITSY’, we got kids around remember?”.
“Fuck off! I’m dealing with it!” she replied.
“Like hell you are, ‘face of the company’, remember?” Dave reminded, slowly letting his grip go and letting Mandy down.
“Well, you gonna deal with him? Because I’m gonna fucking deck hi-.”
“aight, bet.” Dave said, putting himself between Mandy and the pervert, “hello buuuuuuuddy~!” he smiled with a shit eating grin, throwing his large ropey arm around the creep’s neck, “how’s 'bout you and me go for a walk, yeah?”.
“uhh, yeah, umm, alright…” the man shrivelled.
Dave gave Mandy a little wink as he passed her by, a little statement, a silent: “trust me.” before heading to the parking lot with his new ‘buddy’.
“Am yew otay Miss Mandeh? Dat was scawy.” Coffee inquired as she gave a soft pat upon Mandy’s calf.
“I’m fine.” she huffed, still in the midst of coming down from a rapidly sparked blowup.
“Yew nu soundie ‘fine’, Miss Mandeh nee wawa an sit downsies.” Coffee recommended.
“Tch-… fine.” she relented.
She grabbed a juice smoothy and an extra long straw. The emotionally exhausted girl took to sipping it under the mesh of the mask’s mouth, which in retrospect, likely made her seem more believable to the passing kids as a giant fluffy, chilling in the springtime sun as she wondered about, and not some overworked contract slave in a portable oven.
More kids came, balloons were distributed, and more smiles were had, as were pictures; and all the while, the new head nurse mare and her trainee explained the service that they provided to any human who’d stop to listen, even being smart enough occasionally pull a Deacon Farms nurse rental card out from under their hats. Truly, they were a formidable team.
“Miss Mandeh wookin su much mowe happie naow~!” Coffee coo’d.
“Yeah, It definitely helps seeing all the crotch goblins happy. I think I’ve figured out why Billie likes this gig so much.” she replied.
“Biwwie am buwwy. Nu wike.” Brandy said plainly.
“She can be, but, I think that’s all… well, mostly… well, at least some of it is a facade.” Mandy explained.
“Wat dat?”.
“It means she’s pretending to be meaner than she actually is.” was the clarification.
“Bu… wy du dat? Wy aneh-wun nee du dat?” Brandy asked with utmost sincerity.
Mandy herself was a hard ass with a more sensitive soul than she’d ever dare say aloud; and it was anger: her most forefront emotion, that was as much the shield that kept threats away as it was the double edged sword that drove the likes of her boyfriend far from her arms.
Even if the question was directed at no one in particular, it cut the girl to her core, it cut deep. Mandy had only now, standing in the middle of a family friendly fair, dressed as a fluffy, finally begun to ask the most pressing question: ‘Why?’, Why was she angry all the time? Why did she treat fluffies everywhere with such vitriol, and not just fluffies, but even people were not unscathed from her ire. Did that one terrible day at the shelter really lead to all of this, did it truly bend her life so far out of shape, did it have to, and most importantly, did she always need this chip upon her shoulder to stay sane?
“Miss Mandeh?” Coffee asked again, watching as her human chaperone stared off into nothingness. She couldn’t gauge the expression upon Mandy’s face but even a fluffy could tell the visage beneath the mask wasn’t one of joy.
“Let’s just… go give out some more balloons.” the forlorn cadenced woman redirected with a grim tone.
“O-otay…”.
More balloons, more cuddles, more pictures, but it felt more like a distraction than anything else. And all the while, Mandy let Brandy’s words stew in the back of her mind. ‘Why?’ was the question, ‘Why would anyone do that?’. ‘Why?’ indeed.
Mandy looked down as her mind swam. She looked and watched as Coffee reared up upon her hind legs to hug a very small little girl, at her mother’s request. Her mind trailed back to all the suffering she had committed to fluffies, innocent fluffies, bad fluffies, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that the child before her was happy and loved fluffies for what they were, something Mandy herself envied. She wanted so terribly to hit the reverse button, hop in a time machine to go back, to see her departed dad again and return to a world before she was always so angry, so lost. And the warmth, the kindness, the soft cooing of the brown alicorn and innocent giggles of the little girl with ginger curls, they put her relationship with fluffy kind in perspective, and she did not like how it stacked the measure of her soul.
“Hey.” Mandy said as she got down to talk to the little girl, “You love fluffies, right?” she asked, forgetting the fluffspeak in her vulnerable state.
“Ummmm… hehe, yeah!” she smiled back as she played with her locks.
“Are you going to always be nice to them?”. Mandy asked.
“YES!” she smiled confidently.
Mandy reached down, picked up the girl and motioned for her guardian to follow closely behind.
“Umm, excuse me, miss? Where are you going with my niece?” the tiny woman asked in a soft panic.
“Your kid just won a sweepstakes.” Mandy lied as she walked to the ‘economic’ pen.
“But, she just turned three… She didn’t enter a sweepstakes.” her aunt rebuttled.
“I know, I’m cheating for her.” Mandy said as she went up to the railing.
“C-can you do that?” she fretted.
“Miss, I’m not having a great day.” the suit clad vet answered honestly.
“Oh…” she said in a pitied tone, “I’m so sorry about tha-.”.
“I’m not done.” Mandy interrupted softly. “I’m not having a great day… so, I’ll be damned if this little girl doesn’t.” she added.
“Well, thank you then.” she chuckled nervously.
“Okay, little… umm, what’s your name?” Mandy inquired.
“Amelia!” the girl smiled giddily.
“Alright, Amelia, you get to pick any one of these fluffies to take home and love forever and ever.” Mandy explained in her softest and most reassuring cadence.
“Pretty ponies!” Amelia chimed as she looked down and over the rails to witness some earthy coats of brown, creams, forest greens and muted, stone washed dark blues.
“Okay you lot. Little Amelia here is going to be a new mummah for one of you. Everyone show her what you can do.” Mandy requested.
A chocolate coloured colt put a ball to his muzzle, hopped up upon his back legs and wobbled about for a few seconds until inevitably the small red sphere fell from his face, to which he looked up at Amelia with a coy, embarrassed little smile and let out a pathetic “Ta-daaaa…”.
“Nu wook at dat, wook at Waindwop!” a shaggy and denim blue mare begged as she cantered around, before tripping over the long feathering of her legs.
Suddenly, a poofy cream mare squeaked as Amelia’s gaze fell upon her way.
“Eeep!” Cottonball squeaked again as she curled her stubby little legs and head up into her fluff, turning her form into a spherical little cloud.
“That one!” Amelia grinned, pointing to the ever trembling orb of milky fluff.
“That one?” Mandy asked, “you sure?”
“She needs a friend!” the child added.
“Good point.” Mandy smiled from beneath the mask, “Oi, Cottonball. Amelia is your new mummah!” Mandy chuckled sincerely as she lowered the girl into the pen to retrieve her new friend.
She watched on with a warm sensation growing from within her bosom as the child approached the shivering ball of fur and reached out to lay a hand upon her heckle raised back.
“There, there, I’m Amelia.” she attempted to comfort, “what about you?”.
“…C-c-cottonbaww…” she mumbled as her nose began to probe out from the safety of her heavy coat, poking against Amelia’s as she did. “Nyew fwend… h-hab pwetty see-pwaces.” Cottonball said softly.
“Awww, so are yours!” the child answered back before pressing her forehead to the fluffy’s, triggering a cacophony of pleasant cooing.
Mandy watched on, resting against the railing with the child’s guardian.
“You must have quite the fulfilling job.” the small woman smiled through her rectangular spectacles. Mandy herself was dumbfounded by such a statement.
“I think you need thicker glasses, mate.” Mandy chuckled as she shrugged the statement off like water on a duck’s back.
“No, I’m serious.” she continued, “You get to bring joy to children all year 'round.”
“You make it sound like I’m one of Santa’s elves.” Mandy grumbled.
“Well, aren’t you? You basically do the same job. You make ‘toys’ so that children can have just one more reason to smile. Sounds pretty elf like to me.” the lady smiled. “You got a name under all that fluff?” she asked.
“Namsie am Ditsy Dee-kan!” Mandy said in an uncomfortably on point fluffy voice.
“Yes, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Ditsy of house Deacon. And I am Countess Sophie LeMonte, first of my name, keeper of the realm, and enchantress of Valeharbour woods!” the short woman said with an exceptionally cringe yet somewhat charming display of theatrics.
“Right… umm, you good?” Mandy grimaced. “You know that alcohol isn’t allowed into the fair, right?”.
“Oh… sorry. I get carried away when people larp around me” she said nervously, slowly retracting into her social shell as she shrank into her cardigan.
“Oh, I’m not larping, this is my job.” Mandy explained, feeling somewhat guilty for cutting the visibly fragile confidence of the young woman at the root.
“I, uh, I understand.” She said, messing with her curly black hair as she reached over the railing to grab her niece and her new fluffy. “You’re busy… I’ll-, I’ll get out of your way. Thanks for the fluffy.” she mumbled before taking her first quick steps away.
“Mandy…”.
“P-pardon?” Sophie asked.
“My name: Mandy MacFeely… Drop me a line on messenger or whatever.” she replied awkwardly, “You’re kind of weird, I like that.” she smiled beneath the mask.
“W-, will do. See you, Mandy.” she said, holding a waving Cottonball as she disappeared into the croud.
Mandy took a moment to breath and collect herself, feeling rather good, happy even. Then, as all good things do, it ended with a cackle and a slap on her back.
“Fookin’ messenger!” Billie heckled, having snuck up and eavesdropped on the tail-end of the conversation, “What are ya, sixty?”.
“Suck my dick.” Mandy hissed,
“Would if ya had one” she replied with a playful smirk and a set of finger guns.
“Do you have a reason for harassing me during my shift?” Mandy inquired with crossed arms and a raised brow, hidden beneath her mask, but not unfelt by her coworker.
“Oh, right!” Billie exclaimed, tapping the sides of her head as if to summon the words of their boss. “GOT IT!” she exclaimed, “Big D said that he wanted you to go over to the bowl fluffy pen and attract some families to it. Concave lil cunts ain’t selling like they should, he wants some of the inventory gone today or it’s off to the tower for the mares and the incinerator for the stallions. He’s starting to think they’re a bad investment.”
“Fine, fine.” Mandy sighed as she pushed passed and made her way to the enclosure. As she did, her mind stopped and trailed back to the creep in the pony suit, and could not help but to turn back to her coworker and inquire as they walked together.
“Fella in a fluffy fursuit? Ya sure?” Billie asked.
“Yup, Cowffie see big fwuffy tuu. Himb saysie dat Miss Mandeh an dummeh enfie-mare an saysie dat Miss Mandeh nee sum good nu-nu sti-OWIES!” Coffee suddenly yelped as Mandy lightly kicked her teat from behind.
“Shut it.”
“Is that true?” Billie said in an unusually serious tone.
“Go on, laugh it up, I got sexually harassed by a furry.” Mandy grumbled as she opened the gate and entered into the bowl fluffy pen.
“I don’t think that’s funny.” Billie said in tone that felt alien to Mandy, disturbing even, and just a glimmer of sadness crept through the monotone vocals.
“Okay, well, what do we do? We’ve got a loose furry going around, being a perv.”
“Nah, Fluffer.” Billie said in a more normal tone.
“The fuck did you just call m-.”
“No, ya spaz. That’s what they’re called. Fookin’ creeps make fursuiters seem damn near saintly by comparison… Saw a few while at Amsterdam, and I ain’t never going back.” she said with the tone of a shell shocked war veteran, “I’ll go have a talk with the Daves. Those two gotta keep an eye out. They always move in ‘herds’.” Billie added before suddenly scampering off.
With no way to help and with nothing else to do, Mandy simply did as previously instructed, and set forward into the pen.
The bowls were often more adventurous than their standard kin, and to accommodate their semi-aquatic attitudes, Derek had their pen set up around a small pond at the edge of their field.
The little concave cretins were in high spirits, as they often giggled and swayed as they sailed across the shallow waters. Some raced, others played a game of spinnies, --where one bowl would spin another in the water, as if spinning a merry-go-round–, and lastly, others would practice spiting little streams of water into the hair, catching the waters upon their fuzzy faces, as to keep themselves cool against the beating heat of the sun.
“Sup.” Mandy said.
“HEWWO BIG MAWE!” the nine or so bowls shouted in joyful unison.
“How you lot doing?” she inquired.
“Boww fwuffies am habin bestest bwite timsies, hab bin in n’ ou ob puddwes aww bwite time!” a red stallion beamed, while the other fluffies all nodded in agreement.
“Based, and you?” she asked the bowl next to him, “you like going in and out of puddles?”.
“Nuh-uh.” she smiled coyly, “Namsie AM Puddwes.” she explained.
Only then did Mandy notice that some dribbling dullard had left the bowl mare in the bowl stallion pen, and if nothing, the pale white snail trail that followed behind her sure indicated her popularity amongst the penmates.
“You-… umm, you good?” Mandy asked the communal fleshlight.
She looked up with a face of serene glee and silently, sagely nodded.
“Right, well, can you go wash your ‘special place’ off in the pond and not do any more of that until later?” the mascot suited vet calmy asked.
The mare put a hoof to her chin, debating on the request, as if she actually had a say in what happened next. “Hmmmmm… OTAY! Be wite backsies big mawe, nu enf aww da stawwions whiwe Puddwes am gun.”
“Yeah, no need to worry about tha-… eww…” Mandy cringed as she watched the bowl mare turn on a dime and waddle over to the water, only then noticing how her back end resembled an overly glazed custard donut.
Mandy didn’t have the heart to tell puddles that she was probably going to go to the incinerator or the tower for this infraction, along with her new boyfriends, or at the very least, her inevitable litter would. Deacon farms prided itself on having long familial records for all of their fluffies; and so, the seminal cul-de-sac that was Puddles’ womb was something of an affront to that financial strategym.
“Bowws am weiwd.” Brandy plainly stated, squinting at the subspecies from across the pen gate.
“Heh, was that a touch of prejudice?” Mandy giggled.
“Wat dat?”.
“You don’t like them?” she reiterated.
“Oh… nu, id nu am wike dat. Dey am jus, weiwd. Wike, dey am fwuffy, bu dey wook aww wwong. An dey wike wawa? Dat am jus siwwy. Dey am siwwy.”
“Really?” Mandy chortled, “That’s what makes them weird? Not the fact that they just ran a train on a mare in broad daylight?”.
“Siwwy Miss Mandeh, dewe am nu twains hewe.” Coffee interrupted in a comforting voice, as if speaking to an invalid.
“Right, yeah, silly me…”.
The next hour was a simple affair, just Mandy putting on the fluffspeak from outside of the bowl enclosure, taking pictures with kids, repeating the nauseating Ditsy Deacon catchphrase of: “HAB A FWUFFTASTIC DAY!” and other such nonsense.
She got into the rhythm of it, up until she took her last picture and noticed colourful and menacing shapes in the distance, far into the deepest bustle of the crowds by the vendors.
“The fuck?” she thought to herself, before waving over black Dave, who was in the midst of playing with a zebra-fluff by the ‘wild safari’ petting zoo.
“Heyyy~.” Dave grinned, “All good on the northern front?”.
“Hewwo mistah Dabe! Haow am yew?” Coffee and Brandy both inquired.
“I’m good, Lil miss Coffee!” Dave smiled with a chipper tone, “I hope miss Mandy hasn’t been a handful now, if you got any problems, just give me a holl-” He said until the seriousness of Mandy’s voice snapped him back to the matter at hand.
“Oi, who are they? Did we get more mascots in o-” Mandy went to ask and then one came into view, “…Christ almighty…” she murmured.
Another ‘Fluffer’ presented themselves from the croud, and the degeneracy was on full display. Fluffies screamed in confusion as this duo passed by their pens. It was a fluffsuited Fluttershy, ball gag in mouth and being led by another fluffer in a suit designed on the purple and green pallet of spike the dog.
Mandy passed them by, with a wet crinkling and sloshing sound coming from beneath the pair’s raiments as they troddled along. The noise almost made the twenty eight year old woman gag at the thought of whatever horrid machinations could be producing such a sound.
“Heyyy~! Wub yo fwuffsuit! Yo made it yo’sew-ACK!!!” the tall Fluttershy-suiter went to ask, before being choked with a malevolent yank of its collar.
“Silence, Kitten. Daddeh will talkies to the pretty mare!” the much shorter spike suiter growled impotently.
Mandy looked to Dave, his joviality had utterly crumbled. As although black Dave was something of a degen in his off time, he understood the golden rule: Not. Around. Kids.
“You two, out.” He ordered sternly.
“Fuck you, poopie human!” The spike-suiter stomped with a petulant growl.
“Aight, ya wanna play it like that? Bet.” Dave said calmly as he reached for the telescopic cattleprod on his belt, a tool of utility that every Deacon farms staff member is expected to carry on their belt.
“Du id mistah Dabe! gib em da spawky stick!” Coffee snorted at the creepy pair.
“P-pweas be cawefuw wid dat, mistah Dabe… Dat nu am toysie!” Brandy softly protested, still trembling from the first time Billie had disciplined her with the punitive instrument.
“Aight, you heard her, nurse’s orders.” he smirked, before extending the prod with a menacing flick of the wrist. “Damn, what a shame to singe such an expensive looking suit, ya know?”.
The threat was well understood. The petulant spike-suiter began taking back steps, one after another, until…
“ScreEE-…”
CRACK
“…S-S-Skipper…” a small boy whimpered.
“Oh my god! Ethan, look!” The Fluttershy-suiter gasped to her partner. So shocked, she was, that she had even forgotten to stay in character.
Mandy, Dave and Coffee all stood in horrified silence as the accompanying child, a small and heartbroken boy, screamed at the site before him.
Trodden underfoot was his fluffy, a young stallion with a blue coat and short green mane. The poor creature had died instantly, his neck had found itself under the fluffsuiter’s haphazard back steps, and in one terrible moment, he was no more.
“Ah shit!” Ethan said, less so out of guilt, but more akin to the reaction one would have to treading in fresh shit. “Yo, kid, you good?” he asked.
The boy looked up, forlorn and utterly dismayed. He was neither here nor there; his teary eyes stared up at the freak and silently begged an answer from him, an excuse, a justification for the reckless slaughter of his only and best friend.
“Uhh, here kid.” Ethen said awkwardly as he picked the limp corpse off of the ground and shoved it into the child’s grasp, “Watch where you’re going next time.” he said dismissively, before grabbing his partner’s lead and tugging her to follow him, vanishing into the sea of shocked onlookers.
“Oh my god!” Mandy said as she dropped down beside him, “Let’s take him somewhere quiet, okay?” she asked softly, and the boy silently nodded in reply.
They took the cadaver of his best friend to an isolated corner of the fair, a currently unoccupied sick tent, as all the while Dave dispersed the onlookers with his best customer service smile; a thin veneer to cover the intense guilt of the part he played in the accidental trauma of an innocent child.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Mandy asked, the boy.
“Brandon…” he said in a monotone fashion.
“So, Brandon, your fluffy has been in an accident and I thi-.”.
“He’s not moving…” he said with a thousand yard stare plastered across his face, looking right through Mandy as he did.
“…I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry…” Mandy replied with all the sincerity in her person.
The boy didn’t deserve this, and because of that fluffsuited asshole, he was most likely not ever going to forget the events of today.
“Oi, where’s the boy!?” Billie shouted as she burst into the medical tent.
“Right… here.” Mandy said stiffly as she took her mask off, bracing herself for a royal ruddy verbal bollocking from the on site disciplinary, but instead, she was met with a look of sincere worry.
Billie sat herself beside Brandon, inquired about his name, and then gave him a good and long hug.
“Come ‘ere, shhhh, it’s okay. Yea’, I know it’s awful. I bet he was the best lil’ fluffy.” she coo’d out against the boy’s babbling. “let it all out.” she added softly, rubbing her hand carefully against the boy’s upper back; small and reassuring circles and warm affirmations, and then the dam broke.
“B-BUT HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG! HE- HE’S A GOOD FLUFFY, THE BEST FLUFFY EVER! HE ALWAYS PLAYS AND DANCES, NEVER POOPS ANYWHERE BAD, ALWAYS LISTENS TO MUMMY AND ME, IT’S NOT FAIR! HE’S A GOOD FLUFFY, IT’S NOT FAIR!” The boy screamed and sobbed, flailed and cried.
“…WAS a good fluffy…” Mandy interrupted.
“Mandy, shut up.” Billie hissed at her.
“Brandon, Skipper is… well, he’s gone. I really wish I could help, but he’s gone.” the vet sighed in defeat.
“REALLY? YA CAN’T JUST GIVE HIM A MOMENT!?” Billie barked over the wailing of the child in her arms.
“You ought to tell him the truth. Just rip the bandaid off.” was Mandy’s reply.
“Is he?” the boy asked as he looked up at Billie with moistened eyes, “B-but… He’s my best friend…”.
“I know, sweetheart. And ya right, it ain’t fair…” Billie said with a maternal cadance. “I know that it won’t make the pain go away, but what if we go and see about getting you a new fluffy?”.
“I DON’T WANT A NEW FLUFFY!” Brandon sobbed, before he threw his head into Billie’s shoulder.
“I know, I know…” Billie tried to console.
Meanwhile, Mandy peered over her shoulder at the insinuation.
“I kind off… Already did that for another kid today. I think giving away free fluffies by the bucket load might catch us a bollocking from Derek.”.
“Well, sod Derek, and sod ya as well.” Billie scoffed.
“And that’s who you are right now, is it? Really?” Mandy snorted in disbelief, “When a little kid starts crying, you’ll move heaven and earth?”.
“Ya damn right I would!” Billie snapped back, her social mask in utter shambles.
“You have no right to flip the whole Mary Poppins shtick on me. Don’t you have some fluffies to whip, or something?” the vet growled defensively. Calling out the exceptionally out of character attitude of her coworker and friend.
“Brave words for a chick dolled up as a bloody fluffy.” Billie aggressively chuckled, although obviously hurt by her friend’s words, “Don’t YOU have a boyfriend to disappoint and ghost?”.
“Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you like. Just let me talk to Brandon.” Mandy stated.
With a displeased “tch”, Billie motioned for the boy to go sit beside the vet.
“Okay, kid, about your fluffy… You got him from here, right?” Mandy asked, to which the boy nodded as he wiped the snot and tears from his face.
“Do you have his certificate? That paper every fluffy leaves here with when you buy them? It should be a big piece of paper, sort of yellow-ish with a wax stamp and Skipper’s medical info.” Mandy requested.
The boy reached into his backpack and fetched the document. “Mummy says that I need to keep this with me when I take him out, or else an ‘abuser’ might hurt him…” Brandon explained betwixt sniffles, “…Didn’t help though.” he added.
“I know…” Mandy lamented as she took the paper.
“Maaaaannnndy? Heawed shouties. Am yew otay?” Coffee and Brandy called out as they entered the tent.
“Huh? Oh, hey. I’m fine.” Mandy grumbled.
“Wat bout stawwion? Du himb nee huggies?” Coffee asked, her head cocked to the side in curiosity.
“What…? No, he’s dead.” Mandy sighed.
“Weww, am nuwse mawe.” Coffee stated.
“An su am Brandy!” the rookie added.
“Yes, I’m aware. But he doesn’t need huggies, he needs a damn shoebox to be buried in.” Mandy explained with a grunt.
“Nu can hewp?”.
“No, not unless you can give him a sniff and figure out which mare he belonged to. We have to update our records.”.
And so Brandy got to work, with Coffee supervising, as all the while Mandy checked the details.
“Hmmm, lineage papers… Right, HERE!” She said, scrolling down her work tablet, matching the info on the certificate as she went. “Scamp… Scab… Scrump… Skunk… Skippy… AH-HA, here! Skipper.” Mandy listed out loud. As all the while, the two mares debated one the effectiveness of Brandy’s nose.
“Am sowwies head nuwse mawe Cowffie. Bwandy nosie nu am hewpin’. Nu kno who Skippew mummah am.”
“Dat otay. Ou ob Cowffie way den. Cowffie gun show Bwandy haow id am dun.” she said confidently, before beginning to sniff at the young stallion’s mane.
Mandy payed no attention, her back stayed against the nurse mares and skipper’s corpse as she read on.
“So, why were you here today, sweetheart, just wanted a day out with ya fluffy?” Billie asked, attempting to soothe the boy.
“Nuh-uh…” he shook with a sniffle, “Skipper was all grown up. He wanted to come back and see his real mummy; wanted to show her how big and strong and happy he was.” Brandon explained.
“Well, I know that it doesn’t count for much, but I think we could still go and see her, if she’s still around. I think you need someone to grieve with.” Mandy added, still not looking up from her tablet, yet could still feel Billie’s eyes burn a hole into the back of her head.
“Stud: 53-223. Apollo.
And the Dame: 24-601… Coffee…”.
There was a moment of blood chilling dread as the sound of the head nurse mare sniffing at the corpse became the only noise to fill the tent.
“…Oh god…”.
“B-b-bebbeh…?” Coffee let out in a tone of confusion, misery, and utter dismay.
The silence was thick within the tent, a tension so dense that one would need a meat cleaver to cut it. It stayed for a good long while, until Mandy worked up the courage to speak.
“Hey… Coff-”.
“BEBBEH-EH-EH-EEEEEEHHHHHH! NUUUUUUUUUU!” Exploded from the mare.
“M-mummah Cowffie am h-hewe, mummah Cowffie gut mummah widdwe b-bebbeh!” she screamed and sobbed as she began cradling her child’s corpse.
In her eyes, just like with all of her children, he was perfect. He had grown into a strong and handsome stallion. This should have been a day of joy and reconnection. And instead it had been marred with tragedy.
Everyone present could not bring themselves to speak or act over Coffee’s hysterical wails. Non but Brandon.
Still upon his hands and knees, he crawled up behind the devastated mare and wrapped his arms around her brown torso.
“Himb am su bee-oo-tee-fuw! Cowffie wubbed bebbeh! Himb wus gud bebbeh! Nu am faiw, nu am faiwwwww! huuuhuhuuhuhuhuuuuuu!”.
“…I know, I love him too…” Brandon added softly.
Mandy watched the two share in their broken hearts, mourning as one for the loss of Skipper.
The vet put her mask back on and motioned for Brandy to follow. She left Billie to tend to the boy and nurse mare.
“Wy am miss Mandeh weavin Cowffie?” the rookie inquired.
“What am I supposed to do?”.
“N-nu kno…” Brandy replied awkwardly as she stared into the grass that surrounded her hooves.
“Exactly, neither do I. Besides, if Billie wants to play mother goose and watch her and the kid, that’s fine by me, I’ve got enough to deal with.”
“Wy am yew su meanie?” Brandy inquired.
“Oh shut u-…” Mandy went to say, but then the tone registered. It wasn’t the pathetic “huuhuu, wy su meanie” of a simpering turd, or the indignant tantrum of a bitch mare; no, it was a question, plain and simple.
“I… I don’t know…” Mandy replied awkwardly.
“Do bein’ feew gud?” the rookie nurse mare added, as she trotted along, beside the mascot suited human.
“Why do you give a fuck?” Mandy asked with a vexed tone.
“Wan kno wy hoomins am su meanie… miss Biwwie am meanie, miss Mandeh am meanie, mistah Dee-kan am meanie sum-timsies tuu.” Brandy explained.
“You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?” Mandy sighed.
“Am bein smawty bad thingie?” the rookie inquired.
“You should know it is… And are you admitting to being a smarty? You know that’ll earn you a trip to the tower, right?” Mandy interrogated, scowling from beneath her mask.
“Nu, bu miss Mandeh saysie am smawty, su wan askies, dat aww.” was the clever response.
“Well… Being smart isn’t always a good thing. The smarter you are, the more bullshit you’ve got floating around in your head. You think too much, you worry too much, you get stressed and act out. Smarties tend to be, unstable.” Mandy explained.
“Wat am ‘un-stay-baww’?”.
“It means that they can go from calm and happy, to mean and scary, with no warning.”.
“Huh.” Brandy pondered as she looked at the ground. “Miss Mandeh?” she inquired further.
“What?”.
“Am Miss Mandeh an smawty?” Brandy pondered.
“Well… Yeah, I guess.” Mandy pondered as she walked, never once actually stopping to consider or compare herself to the species that she had spent countless rotations of the clock to keep healthy. Moreover, she had never considered what she had in common with the shitrats.
“Wy Mandeh nu git huwties fow bein smawty?” Brandy continued to probe.
“I do though, all time.” Mandy let slip, just quietly enough to catch the nurse mare’s ear.
“Wat hoomin gib yew huwties? Am id Biwwie?” Brandy pushed further.
“…No…”.
“Am id yew mummah ow daddeh?”.
“…No…”.
“Am id mistah Dee-kan?”.
“No.”.
“Speshew fwend gib huwties.”
“NO!”.
“den wat hoomin gib yew huwties?”.
Mandy stopped and turned around. She looked down on the precocious little pig-rat-horse-thing and tensed her mitt. It’d be so easy, just one hard punch to the temple and she’d be gone, it’d feel so marvellous, just like all the other times. No more uncomfortable questions, no more armchair psychology from a walking plushy, no more harsh, nagging, biting, clawing sensation in her chest if she just hit the fluffy; just like all the other times.
And then, she let go. Her fist softened.
-To Be Continued-