Did you know that fluffy ponies have urban legends of their own? A lot of people don’t. Fluffy ponies are much more complicated than we give them credit for and studies have shown how complex they are. One discovery that’s come from these studies is that of urban legends concocted by the fluffies. The story of the “nice wady” is one of the more interesting ones.
Feral fluffies in suburban environments will spend much of their time knocking on doors or trying to enter houses. The end result is usually an irritated or nonchalant rejection with the occasional deaths or adoptions taking place. Fluffies don’t usually live long on their own in the wild so every moment counts.
It’s said that on rare occasions a house will emerge. One that only the fluffies can see. It always appears as a small house with a tiny lawn and the lights always on. It could be early in the morning or late at night. Either way they’re always on. The fluffies understand that the lights being on is a sign that someone lives inside. They’ll approach it like they do with any other house and wait a moment before the door opens.
Out steps a nice wady with long black hair and deep black eyes. She has a sickly pale complexion and looks down at the flluffies with a weak smile.
”Hello little fluffies,” she’ll say to them. “Are you looking for a new home?” She has a very soft and kind tone with a hint of sadness.
”Yes nice wady,” the fluffies say. “Fwuffies nee nyu housie fow cowd times ow fwuffies gu foweba sweepies!”
She will then smile and begin to walk into the house. The fluffies notice that the house is much larger than it looks from the outside. There’s a long spiral staircase that goes several stories high and the entire entrance hall is lit by a large chandelier hanging at the very top. The fluffies look in awe at the new house, relieved to see that it will be more than enough for them.
”Tank yu nyu mummah!’ The fluffies say. They notice that she walks with a slow and wispy gait. There’s also something about the house that makes them feel uneasy. A cold breeze is always felt whenever the nice wady is in the room with them. But she’s still a nice lady! She provides them with a massive safe room the size of an ordinary human house. It has everything a fluffy could want! Blocks stacked so high that they reach the ceiling, balls of all shapes and sized, miniature castles to run and play in, even hidey places to make the bestest hidies.
She treats them to bowls of sketti so big that two fully-grown fluffies could lay in them with room to spare. On top of the sketti itself is homemade tomato sauce with a scent appetizing enough to make the mouth water. The place is a paradise for any lucky fluffy that gets in.
“Tank yu fow ebewuting, nyu mummah!” The fluffies cheer. “Fwuffies hab nebba ben su happies!”
“I love you little fluffs,” she says to them. “Would you like to come up into my room with me?” She asks this while gesturing towards the staircase. The fluffies are very happy with their new homes and really just want to rest, but she’s been so kind to them that they agree as she walks upstairs.
“Wat am dat noisie?” A fluffy asks as it’s being carried. It sounds like light whispers and footsteps coming from downstairs.
”That’s nothing,” the nice wady says.
The second floor of the house is very different from the bottom. The bottom was a fluffy paradise in every way. The top is the opposite. It’s darkly lit with only a few lights left on. Many of them flicker everytime the nice wady walks into a room. There’s almost no furniture and the only decorations are portraits of the nice wady and some other people with their faces covered by black scribbles. In every picture the nice wady doesn’t smile and stares straight at the fluffies through dead eyes.
The nice wady brings them into a bedroom with a rocking chair and a small bed that looks like it can’t fit her.
“Come sit,” she says softly as she plants herself into the chair. The fluffies begin to shiver as they feel the same cold breeze from earlier return. Her hands are icy cold and cause the fluffies to shiver as they goes straight through their fluff and onto their delicate skin.
“Mummah wub babbehs….babbehs wub mummah….” The nice wady sings. her songs are different from a fluffy mummahs. It’s deeper, melodic, and a little unsettling. Her voice trails off into the hallways and creates an echo effect that makes the fluffies even more uncomfortable. There are creaking sounds coming from the empty rooms that makes the fluffies anxiety increase even more.
“Nice wady?” The fluffies ask. “Can fwuffies gu back downsies now? Am scawedy.”
”Not just yet little fluffs,” the nice wady responds.
“O…otay….” The flluffies don’t feel comfortable anymore but can’t find a way to leave. Their skin begins to feel more irritable as the nice wady’s smooth fingers turn harder. The icy cold chill is still there but now the fingers they’re attached to feel more like they’re scratching then stroking. The fluffies open their eyes to get a better look and are startled by the sight of a bony hand with strands of flesh hanging off of it.
“Nice wady?” The fluffies mutter. They look up and see that her soft features are all but gone. Her skull is mostly exposed with pieces of flesh hanging off of it. The once kind and inviting eyes have widened to a dull yellow color that covers both the iris and what was once the whites of her eyes.
“Wha happen to nice wady?” The flluffies ask in a panic.
“I want you to stay with me,” says the nice wady. A light flickers in the hallway and a chorus of huuus can be heard from the halls. They’re accompanied by sounds of laughing babbeh’s and mummah songs. But then there’s also screeching coming from another corner and something downstairs laughing crazily. It all becomes too overwhelming for the fluffies to bear.
“I’m the mummah of all the fluffies that stay here. You’ll be mine forever.” The nice wady says this while noises of rapid footsteps can be heard from the stairs.
”NU! NU WAN! NU WAN!” The fluffies jump off with no idea where to go. Horrific sounds are coming from every angle and nowhere seems safe. They’re running on pure instinct that tells them to run somewhere safe. Wherever that may be. Their weggies are beginning to shed their fluff and skin flakes begin to pile up with every movement.
The nice wady then stands up looking even taller than before. Her face now expressionless and the eyes lacking any pupils.
The fluffies run to the corner of the room after hearing the rapid footsteps reaching the top of the stairs. Not even that area is safe. Something else is there to remind them of that.
“PEEP! CHEEP! STAY WIF BABBEH!”
”Wut dat!?” The fluffies looks down at what was once the floor. In its place is a sea of babbehs. They’re all peeping and crying nonstop, reaching out for the fluffies.
“Wet weggies gu babbehs!” The fluffies cry. The babbehs have formed a large fluffpile around them and begin to drag them into the sea. They can hear the laughter from downstairs right beside them. It gets louder and louder as each of their weggies crunch under the pressure of foals chewing on them. The footsteps have stopped and they hear the door behind them open without being able to see what walked in.
”Now you’re finally mine” says the nice wady. Her voice has turned graveley in its tone. She leers right at the fluffies so they can get a good look at her. Her once lengthy hair has been reduced to strands on her head as more of her skull becomes exposed. Skin continues to fall off as do pieces of flesh from her body. The clothes she wore are grey and tattered, barely hanging onto her bony frame.
The fluffies scree in absolute terror from the unbearable sense of helplessness. Nowhere is safe. Everything can hurt them here.
“Everything in here has been made from fluffies and humans alike,” the nice lady goes on to say. “And now the two of you will be the newest contributors!”
“SCREEEEE! PWEASE STOP NICE WADY!”
But she doesn’t listen. The last thing the fluffies see is the nice wady’s now completely skeletal body being enveloped in shadows. The last thing they hear are a pair of footsteps stepping right beside them and their own screams echoing as if they were leaving their bodies. Then nothing.
Variations of this story have been shared by feral fluffies through enough generations for it to become as common as skettiland tales. Who or what she is remains a mystery, as does the identity of her companion that’s never described or mentioned by name. More research needs to be done in order to better understand fluffies and their thought process.