My First Fluffies, Part 1, Author: RyanFullmer

Here is the first fluffy story I have ever written! Please let me know what you think!

My first experience with fluffy ponies starts much like those of many others; with a yard invasion! I never knew how cliche this event had become until much later. Utah was at the tail end of the expanding population of feral fluffies from the initial release site and had had a long standing ban on the ownership and sales of them in the past. Having more precious agriculture and natural resources to defend than the average state the legislature very quickly laid plans to kill any feral fluffy that crossed into Utah borders as soon as news of the release came to their ears. Before that incident fluffies were in shaky legal standing as it was with debate raging on the state and federal level over the ethicality of owning a genetically engineered sentient creature all while Hasbro continued to try and expand it’s fluffy dealer franchises across the country as fast as it could. Several court injunctions and public protests retarded their efforts in my state, causing only a few thousand people to ever actually buy one.

Which was lucky for us in the long run as the devastation caused by the megaheards and the rumors of strange psychological effects of fluffy ownership on humans caused the state to ban the sale of fluffies and to forcibly close down all fluffy dealerships and Hasbro specialty stores in the state. Fluffy owners were left without any source for supplies for their pets and fluffy breeders and stores were left not knowing how to offload all the unsold “stock” they now couldn’t keep alive. That was not an issue for long as the referendum on the Total Kill initiative soon passed the election cycle of my freshman year of high school. Fearing the destruction of ranches, farms and national parks and knowing that it only took a few abandoned or lost specimens to create a wild population, the good people of Utah decided that it was fully justified to seize all owned fluffies in the state and summarily put them to death. Fluffy owners and enthusiasts became a persecuted minority, subjected to warrantless search and seizure as law enforcement scoured the land for anyone hiding their now illegal pets.

Court battles over the constitutionality of the searches became the most hilarious in the history of law, with videos entered into evidence showing police forcibly entering homes and, rather than brutalizing the owners and destroying their property as one would expect in your average tyranny, suddenly burst into song and dance, humiliated looks on their faces as they began to perform a specially designed tune about “giving all good fluffies the best huggies and sketties,” causing the animals to loudly sing along, beg for release from their hiding places, or come running into the arms of the waiting cops. The only serious distress the owner experienced was seeing their pet being killed. Suspected fluffy owners who did not actually have one simply got a free show, courtesy of the local police department, and highly rated YouTube videos.

It was all very amusing. Of course it wasn’t amusing to the fluffies. My social studies classes kept trying to leverage the events to encourage debate between students. I found the whole affair terribly morbid. A small group of corporate board members birthed the first artificial sentient creature into the word yet deliberately made it to be mentally retarded and physically impared, ensuring that we would have to respond to their release with the harshest of measures. I agreed with the harshest and most idealistic critics back then. Such an act should have received the greatest care and soberness on the part of all of humanity, not the guidance of the sales and legal departments of a toy company. But like many decisions our species has made it was made by a small minority, interested only in profit. We must take full responsibility for these decisions, and completely deserve the burden of having to end the lives of so many innocent creatures. That is our punishment for our carelessness! At least, that is how the paper I wrote in my high school ethics class went. I was quite proud of that little piece!

But you’re not here for a history lesson. You want to hear about my reactions to actually meeting fluffies. Hasbro only had two years to get flufflies onto the market between announcing what they had created and their accidental release, and with all the local resistance around me my home town never got it’s own fluffy store or breeding facility, so the first time I ever got a look at one was on the first commercials.

First, there was a shot of pattering stumpy legs running across a carpeted floor, all covered in strange technicolor fur.

“They are coming to your home town!” a soothing, overly friendly voice excitedly told us.

“They are running just as fast as they can to get to you!” More shots of running stumpy legs from different angles.

“They are the best friends you could ever wish for!” The running legs suddenly came to rest and sat down on the carpet. “And they’ve come to ask you a very important question.”

The creatures he was referring to were finally revealed as the camera panned out. There sat a fat, rolly-polly creature with an equine snout, hooves, enormous eyes and the thickest fur I’d ever seen then extended it’s arms and asked in a squeaky voice “Be nyu mummah?”

“They’re the Fluffy Ponies! And they want nothing more than to join your family!” the narrator declared as more of the creatures were revealed in the shot, each one extending its arms and beginning to babble at me and my siblings as we stared in astonishment.

“Hewo! Am nyu fwen?”

“Fwuffy am suuuu happy to see you!”

“Fwuffy nee nyu mummah! Pwease be nyu mummah?”

“Fwuffy wuv ‘ou!”

My sister was the first to speak. “They’re kind of cute. I think.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself that what she said was true.

“These things are freaking me out!” said my brother.

“Are these things robots? They can’t be, they’re too seamless!” I said. I was fourteen at the time, which put my younger brother and sister just outside of Hasbro’s target of five year old girls. That was probably why all these “Fluffy Ponies” all seemed to be female to me and were always referring to us as “nyu mummah.”

“Now you may be wondering if these new wondrous pets are real?” the narrator went on, as if reading my mind. “They are just as real as you are! They are the first truly living friends from Hasbro!” I remember it took me a good minute to digest just what that meant. “Loving, caring, full of compassion, they are the living, breathing magical pets! For the first time ever you can own a best friend for life!” More images of these creatures gamboling, frolicking and playing with each other were shown, rolling balls, appearing to play tag and even playing with other Hasbro toys just as little children would. The wheels in my head were turning and I was slowly filling with incredulity.

“I’m not sure if they are really cute or not,” said my sister. “They seem so…bizarre. They’re voices get on my nerves.” She herself owned a few toy ponies and was probably the only one of us who’d consider having one. Her reaction was quite telling.

“Those have got to be the best robots ever made!” said my brother. “Look at them! They really look like they are flesh and blood!”

“That’s because they are!” I shouted, having finally realized just what Hasbro had done. My sister and brother turned to me in surprise. “They actually did it! Son of a bitch they actually did it!” I said, quoting Ian Malcom. Honestly I expected dinosaurs to be our first genetic abominations, not these little poofs with squeaky voices.

“And remember kids!” the narrator said the camera zoomed in on the first fluffy it had shown us. The fluffy spread its arms wide and declared in a voice as sweet as honey “Fwuffy wuv ou!”

That was the only time I had ever seen a fluffy before the disaster of their release or after. Utah did eventually lift it’s fluffy ban though it still culled wild populations with extreme prejudice and it took years for them to ever become a noticeable pet here. Which explains why I was completely ignorant of fluffy expansionism and completely astonished when I found a huge, multicolored blob of fur standing in my back yard when I went back to adjust the sprinkler system one day in April.

I stood there gawking at the things for a good minute. I shook my head and blinked my eyes multiple times to make sure I wasn’t taking the Mic. My lawn looked like a throwup I had when I was a kid and I had eaten too many tropical Skittles. I had never been an epileptic but looking at the panoply of garish colors made my brain think that now would be a good time to become one. My confusion and fear of seizures only increased as their voices came through the air to me.

“Smawty fin bestest wand for hewd! Su many gwassie nummies! Smwaty am bestest smawty!”

GASP! Nyu hewd homesie am su pwetty! Suuuuuu much gwassie! Wuv gwassie! Few so gud! Much bettew den hawd bwack wockies gwound!”

“Speshew fwen nu be hungie nu mow hewe!”

“Smawty say find all da nummies! Wook high and wow! Bwing aww nummies back an make nummie piwe! Aww soon mummahs and now mummahs eat gwassies and den make nesties!”

“Am miwkie time babbehs! Cum get miwkies! Mummah now hab miwkies for aww da babbehs!”

“Babbehs wuv mummah! Mummy wuv babbehs!” That last line was sung!

When I finally regained my senses the mass of color resolved into a bunch of short, squat looking poofs. Poofs that had legs and waddled and scampered around on the grass doing whatever disorganized business it was that they were doing. I also noticed that there were quite a few smaller poofs wandering around the big poofs and talking in the same strange tongue as the larger poofs. And now that my eyes were finally focused I could see that the palette of color also involved a lot of brown. A whole lot of brown. Stuck to their butts?
The identity of all the brown was revealed once the wind changed in my direction. A tear jerking, sour odor unlike anything I had smelt before wafted into my nostrils and made my nose hair curl. My stomach lurched and I let out a racking cough. “Holy cow! You guys are covered in crap!”I exclaimed out loud, which alerted the creatures to my presence. About three dozen big, round, watery eyes turned to stare at me. For a second I thought they might just ignore me and move ahead with whatever they were doing but they soon started shouting at me.

“Hoomin munstah!”

“Pwease nu huwt fwuffy! Am good fwuffy!”

“Cum babbehs! Mummah pwotec babbehs!”

“Ooooh! Nice Mistuh! Can hewd pwease hab gwassie nummies nice mistow!

“Am nicey hoomin? Mahbe be nyu daddeh?”

I could feel my brain cells shriveling as they spoke. Thankfully one of them, a big chunky critter with fur the color of a Tide detergent jug and with a mane covered in the bright blue and orange racing stripes shouted “Hewd be quiet!” and then scampered straight up to me. I stood stock still, unsure of what his intentions could possibly be. The thing stamped its front legs on the ground several times and puffed it’s cheeks out, as if they weren’t already fat enough, and scowled up at me.

“Dummeh hoomin mistuh, dis am Smawty wand now! Smawty cwaim it for smawty hewd! Gu away ow get biggest owies!” it declared. I felt another brain cell expire with a wail and my
eyes crossed as his freakish language broke upon my ears.

“Excuse me?” I said, having not understood a thing he said.

“Dummeh hoomin nu heaw? Dis am hewd wand and hewd housie! Am cwaim aww wand, housie, and aww nummies! Nao gif bestest sketties to Smawty!”

“Come again?”

“Dummeh hoomin must be extwah dummeh! Du dummeh’s heaw pwaces nu work? Awe dey bwoked?”

“Are you un-ironically speaking in the UwU language?” I asked, astounded to realize that this must be their standard form of speech. The thing managed to scowl even harder at me, which actually made it even more perversely cute than before. Weren’t these things supposed to look like horses? They more resembled pigs in my opinion, with stubby snouts molded into an approximation of a horse muzzle. Most of his body looked like it was composed of fur that was filled with tangles, brambles, sticks, leaves, and dirt along with a solid cake of what was obviously dried feces all over his bottom, from which the reek I had smelled earlier was emanating.

“Wy big dummeh speak big confusie wordies to smawty? Gu get aww sketties an bwing to Smawty!”

Waiting a second to slowly parse what I thought he was saying I slowly said “Let me get this straight. What your telling me is that you are taking over my backyard?”

“Dats wight!” the thing huffed, stomping again. “Ou gu way ow get wowstest huwties! Now bwing bestest sketties fow Smawty and hewd! An gif housie and bestes beddie fow smawty an soon mummahs!”

“Wait a second. What are these ‘sketties’ you keep mentioning?” I asked.

The creature looked at me like I had asked him if the sky was blue. “Ou awe dummiest dummeh ebah! Sketties am bestest nummies! Bestest nummies fow make bestest hewd! Nao gu get dem sketties!”

“But what are nummies?” I asked in growing desperation.

It rolled it’s huge eyes at me. Heavens, his irises were huge! As if someone had tried to bring anime eyes to life, and they were a garish shade of purple “Hoomin am most usewess hoomin Smawty haf ebah met. Nu know bout sketties ow toysies. Must haf poopies fow bwains!”

I knew it was insulting me but I still had no idea what the content of the insults actually was. Even so I was becoming more flustered and confused by the second. “Look,” I said, finally. “I really hate to tell you this but I have no ‘sketties’ here.’”

The creature then gasped far longer than I thought a small thing like him could. It had to be a five second long intake of air! “Nu sketties!? But aww dummeh hoomins am hab sketties!”

This thing’s grammar was absolutely appalling, but I think I understood it. “Well, I don’t. No ‘sketties’ at all. Not a drop of it.” Perhaps if I feigned not having any of this crap they wanted they’d lose interest and go back where they came from. On that topic… “How did you get in here anyway?” I asked myself more than this orange-ish pig thing. I looked around, trying to find a breach in my backyard fence. What I saw was that I had left the gate wide open overnight. Silly me. They must have shown up this morning and saw their opportunity at an easy conquest.

“Dummeh hoomin wiw gib sketties an toysies NAO!” it roared, a sound that made him suddenly seem adorable. “Take sowwy hoovsies big dummeh!” Before I knew it the thing had waddled up to my legs and began to punch and kick my legs and my shoes with his forelegs. I reflexively jumped back before noticing that his blows felt like I was getting punched by marshmallows.

“Dats wite big dummeh! Wun fwom Smwaty! Now get biggest sowwy poopies!” The thing began to turn around.

“What are sorry…” I didn’t get to finish my question. The creature had lifted it’s tail and then sprayed a torrent of watery shit straight at my legs. My shoes and pant legs were covered in the gunk. It was very warm and seeped straight into my socks. As I stared down at the enormous mess this thing had made on me the smell hit.

“Ooooooh Lordy!” I croaked before gagging. What was in this stuff!? It was sewage straight out of Dante’s Inferno! As if someone had married together the smell of horse manure and a baby’s dirty diaper.

“Nao biggest dummeh am gonna gif Smawty bestest sketties!” the thing triumphantly proclaimed as he turned back around to face me. I felt my stomach do a triple salchow. I bent over and wretched right above the fluffy’s back, emptying my breakfast all over his face and back.

The fluffy began to scream. “SCREEEEE! Dummeh hoomin make sicky wawa on Smawty!” It turned and began to waddle as fast as it could back to it’s group of friends. “SCREEEEE! Sicky wawa in eyesies! Nee huggies! Wowstest see-buwny huwties! Huhuhuhuuuu!”
The rest of the heard also began to scream. “SCREEE! Hoomin mustah gif sicky wawas to Smawty!”

I should have been far more proud of how I retaliated against the little retard but I was in no mood for celebration. As my enemy was now fleeing I decided to beat a hasty retreat to the front yard. Almost puking a few more times I stumbled through my backyard gate, slamming it closed behind me. Of course no matter how fast I moved I couldn’t get away from the stench. I desperately fumbled with the hose out front until I got it turned on and started to spray the filth off of me. Only then could I risk breathing normally again. As the brown washed away from my lower legs I could still hear the screeching of the red orange fluffy from the backyard. “What an utterly contemptible little punk!” I said to no one in particular. “Isn’t he supposed to want to be my best friend in the whole word?”

I didn’t stop spraying myself until I was totally drenched. I pulled off my shoes and socks on the front porch and then went back inside my home, dashing to the kitchen and yanking up the venetian blinds so I could see into the back yard. The orange fluffy was still slowly running around the lawn and I could hear his muffled screams floating inside. Several of his compatriots were running behind him, attempting to pounce him or something. Was that their idea of helping? As I watched in consternation I barked out at my digital assistant.
“Alexa! What the hell are sketties!?”

The little speaker went bloop. “Sketties is a cute and childish word for spaghetti or pasta in general. Fluffies are known for desperately craving it,” came it’s laconic reply.

“They came here for Italian food?” I said in disbelief. “Seriously? Alexa! What are nummies?”

“A cute and childish word for food. Are you interested in Fluffspeak?” Alexa asked.

“Yes, very much!” I told her.


Next up: introducing smarty’s special wumps to mister nailgun.


Be careful with the company name, the pettiness of a company could crack open the community and kick us out of existence because of it


cum zone


Not just yet! He’s still learning how annoying and vacuous he is




Those symbols are familiar but I just can’t place them :sweat_smile:


Cum in mummah’s specha pwace


Better kick the fuckin smarty off his yard and get a stick and start smashing those herd off his yard.


More of a bad aura of doom or something bad is brewing or “something horrible is behind me”

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Throwing up on fluffy that shit on you? Genius!

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