Whelp. My first attempt to make a fluffy story. Now fingers crossed It’s not bad enough that I get skinned alive and crucified. If ya like it. Tell me. If it’s a steaming pile of shit. Also tell me.
I’ve gotta admit. When Hasbio announced they’d made “The perfect pet” I was more than a bit skeptical. I mean they created a small fluffy pony with enough sentience to speak. I’d hate to even imagine the lack of ethics it took to create such a creature.
Of course there was an outrage at first,
But after a while it became clear that Hasbio’s legal team did an excellent job and making sure everything was perfectly legal. They were called “Fluffies”. They were no bigger than a Yorkie and covered in bright colored fluff.
They were cute yes but I wasn’t really interested. Something about a pet that talks back to you didn’t sit right with me.
Now. Fast forward about two years later.
The Fluffies are everywhere. At first Hasbio was very careful. Only selling sterile Fluffies. Thanks to their cutesy demeanor they became an extremely sought after luxury pet. Looking back it’s a bit comical. Surprise surprise the creatures they gave sentience decided they didn’t like spending their whole life being baby factories. There was a breakout at a major Hasbio manufacturing center. 5 pregnant mares escaped and disappeared into the alleyways of the city. We learned fast just how quickly they could reproduce. Within 3 months the offspring of the first mares we’re already mature enough to have their own offspring. Needless to say shelters filled up fast. The once designer pet was now seen as a cheap alternative to other pets. The ferals kept multiplying until they inhabited most urban areas of the country. They would occasionally be seen in the suburbs but hardly ever in rural areas. While they could live on vegetation such as grass they weren’t very strong. Most wild animals viewed them as easy prey. Even the largest herds only lasted about a week in the countryside.
But that’s enough exposition. Eventually I caved and adopted a small blue fluffy with a nice pink mane. I named her Frosting. It was nice having a little chatterbox around the house. I live alone on my family’s farm. so I’m a good distance from anybody. My nearest neighbor was over a mile away. I had her fixed as a foal as I didn’t want anymore Fluffies.
“Why Daddeh gib Speciaw pwace bigges huwties?”
I overestimated just how intelligent Hasbio had made these things. They spoke but it was all in a mushy baby talk. It got annoying some days but it was tolerable. The worst part is they seem to have a fascination with their own shit.
“Fwosing make gud poopies for Daddeh”
“Nuu! Fwosing make bad poopies! Am bad fwuffy!”
“Fwosing nu wike dummeh maiw man. Fwosing gib sowwy poopies!”
That one was bad. Who could have guessed that postal workers uniforms were dry clean only? We use a mailbox away from our house now.
Being so far away from anything I let Frosting play outside by herself a lot. One day I hear her talking to someone. I figure maybe the mailman forgot he doesn’t have to deliver to the house anymore. I walk outside to prevent another incident when to my surprise there Frosting is talking to another fluffy.
“Dummeh mawe! Gib Enfies or get wowstest owies!”
I don’t know what “Enfies” is but if this thing thinks it’s gonna hurt my frosting it has another thing coming.
“HEY!” I yelled. It must have startled the fluffy because it ran off. … Leaving a trail of shit behind it… Of course…
After begrudgingly cleaning the mess left behind I made sure frosting was ok.
“Bad Fwuffy twy to gib fwosing Enfies. Fwosing say nu!”
I ask. “Frosting … What’s Enfies?”
She gives me a puzzled look.
“Enfies… Speciaw hug fwuffy gib Speciaw fwen!”
Then it hit me. This little fucker was gonna try and rape my frosting.
It’s been a week since I last saw the other fluffy. I haven’t let Frosting out much unless I can be out there watching. She protests but it’s for her own good. One night I hear a thud on the door. It didn’t sound like a knock but as if someone was slapping it. We don’t get visitors out here. Especially late at night. I grab my shotgun and walk to the door. I leave the chain lock secured and open the door just enough to peek out.
“Finawy dummeh hooman open door!”
Standing there was what seemed to be a family of Fluffies. The one that frosting had the encounter with. A very bulging pregnant mare standing behind him with a litter of foals clinging to her back.
“Dummeh hooman! This smartie wand nao!”
He stomps his hoof as if trying to intimidate the being 7 times his size.
“Wet smartie in housie! Gib sketties and toysies and mawe fo Enfies and babbehs!!!”
There was that word again. Enfies. Something about that word unlocked a rage in me I didn’t know existed.
“Hey!! Dummeh hooman heaw smawtie!”
I heard you ya little bastard. Here’s a better plan. How about you get your shitty asses off my property before I blow your head off."
The two fluffys looked taken back for a minute before the smartie spoke up again.
“Smawtie no scawed of hooman. Smawty give hooman sowwy poopies”
The fluffy turned with it’s backside facing the door before unloading a spray of liquid excrement onto the door. A little of the spray made it through the crack and into the house.
“THATS IT”
I open the door and in one swift movement I ram my foot directly into the smarties ass. Hitting his anus he keeps shitting even as he flies off of your porch.
"HUUHUUHUU!!! Why mistah make smawties poopy pwace biggest owies!?! Huuhuu!
Is he serious?
“You just shit in my house you little bastard. You’re lucky I didn’t aim for your micro balls!”
The smartie continues to cry and whine about his “poopy pwace”
The mare looks up at me.
“Pwease sir. It gon be cowd time soon. Need warm housies for babbehs.”
I look at the mare.
“Well at least one of you has manners. You two don’t look like any of the ferals I’ve seen. Where did you come from?”
The mare looks sad.
“Old mummah take fwuffy and speciew fwen on caw wide. Mummah wet fwuffy out to make good poopy. Mummah weev in caw. Weev fwuffy. Weev speciaw fwen. Weev babbehs.”
She starts to sob.
“Pwease nice mistah. Gib fwuffeh warm housies for babbehs?”
I listen to the mares sob story. I always was a softie.
“Uuugh. Fine. As long as you don’t shit on the floor like your stupid friend. You and your babies can come in. But you have to have baths.”
The mare smiles.
“Nu wike wahah. But will get baffies if means babbehs get warm housies”
The mare happily trots inside. The 3 foals on her back start chattering.
“New housie? New daddah?”
“Nu wan baffie! Wahwah bad fo babbeh!”
“Is dis skettie wand?”
The smartie looks up hearing the conversation. With his tale still placed over his anus he walks towards the door trying to get inside. I stop him.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
The smartie looks at me.
“Dummeh hooman say gib smawty an famiwy housie. Smawty go inside and eat sketties and get toysies”
I look him in his dumb eyes.
“I said your little friend and her babies could stay if they behaved like good Fluffies. You on the other hand decided to shit on my house and threaten my friend frosting. The only reason you even have a face left is because your friend has manners. Now. You are fortunate I’m in a good mood. You can stay. But you sleep in the wood shed.”
I point to the small wooden shack. My grandfather used it to keep firewood before my father switched to gas heat when I was a kid. It’s not insulated but does have straw to keep the smartie from dying of cold.
“Buh… Buh… HuuHuu! Smawtie no wan cowd poopie housie! Sniffle”
I smirk.
“Should have thought about that before you decided to be a dick.”
The smartie continues to whine.
“HuuHuu! Smawty wan be wif speciew fwen and babbehs! Wan Huggies an Enfies!”
Once again the little mongrel mentions sex.
“Goodnight shithead.”
I slammed the door while he still bawls.
A week passes. I decided to name the new mare Mary. Original I know. Frosting has taken to marry as a friend and is loving the babies. They’re a bit of a handful but I’m a patient man. I’ve named them all
A green colt named Celery.
A blue filly named Berry
And a red Colt named cherry.
The smarty who still whines about being in the wood shed wanted a name too. You decided to call him something appropriate.
“Here’s your food shit head.”
You drop a bowl of kibble.
“Buh… Buh… Speciew fwen and udda mawe get sketties and good Nummies. Why smawty onwey get kibbew?”
It looks at you as you scoff.
“Because your special friend and Frosting are good Fluffies who behave. Meanwhile you decide to shit on my yard. Even though I gave you a litter box.”
Shit head looks at the litterbox with more poop that litter.
“Buh. Wittah box fiwwed up. Need cwean.”
You stare at him uncaring.
“Clean litter boxes and good Nummies are for good Fluffies who don’t threaten to give bad Huggies.”
You walk inside as shit head stares at the bowl of dry kibble. Before you walk back inside you call out.
“Frosting! Come inside! It’s sketti night!”
Frosting comes trotting"
“Sketti? Oh boi!. Fwosing wuv sketti! New fwen babbehs wuv skettis too!”
I heard a soft crying from the wood shed as I walked back inside. The satisfaction is immeasurable. I went into the safe room I made for Mary and her babies. It’s just a closet that I’ve cleared out and put an old dog bed in, but she seems content.
“Mary. It’s sketti night.”
The babies all look up and leave the fluff pile.
“SKETTI!!!”
Celery exclaimed.
“Daddeh make bestest Nummies evah!”
Berry stated gladly.
“Sketti pwetti. Stiw miss mummahs miwkies.”
Cherry said somberly.
Mary looked at the babies.
“Shush babbeh. Babbehs no need miwkies no mow. Eat reaw Nummies nao. Wike sketties.”
The mare stood up. Her stomach had almost doubled in size since she got here just a week ago. It’s amazing how fast the gestation period for Fluffies is. I’m starting to realize how these critters took over so fast. Rabbits have nothing on them.
" Nyu Daddeh? Is you suw dat speciew fwen am happeh in poopy housie?"
She said innocently.
“Very happy. In fact he loves it more than the good house.”
I lie but it’s for her own good. Don’t wanna tell her how he really is. The balloon of a fluffy wobbles to the kitchen with her babies on her back ready for her sketti.
That night I heard a noise in the house. I got out of bed and walked to where it sounded like it was coming from. It’s coming from the bathroom. I walk in and look around. It’s dark but I can see the silhouette of something small coming out of a floor vent. Thinking it’s a rat I grab the nearest blunt instrument. Being a broom handle. I sneak up to it. This filthy rat would kill Mary’s babies if it got the chance. It seemed not to see me. I raise the handle above my head and bring it down hard with a thwack.
“WOWSTEST OWIES!!!”
I flipped the light on. What I thought was a rat was actually shit heads hoof.
“You little fucker. I told you stay outside!”
I looked at him before opening the vent and yanking him out by his stupid hoof.
“NUUU! BAD UPSIES BAD UPSIES! NUU TOUCH HUWTY WEGGIE!”
I walked to the front door holding him up. At this point I don’t care if I broke his hoof and pulled his arm out of socket.
I open the door and throw him out. He plops on the ground crying about his hoof.
“Weggie! Weggie am bwokies! Need weggie! HUUHUUHUU!”
I slip my shoes and jacket on then walk out. I grab him again by the nap of his neck.
“NUUU! Bad upsies!”
“Shut up ya little fucker. Now I’m gonna give you one chance to show me where you got in.”
I sit him down and he leads me to a vent hole that leads under my house. It’s obvious he broke the vent out. I shine my phone light in the hole and see where he pulled down a vent pipe off my furnace.
“Uuugh. Now I’m gonna have to crawl under there and fix it.”
“Smawty nu wike dumbeh hooman! Smawty cowd! Smawty need warm housies! No mow poopie housies! Wan gud Nummies! Wan speciaw fwen! Wan babbehs! Wan enf-BLECH!!.”
I grabbed the fluffy by it’s throat.
“I’ve given you more than enough chances.”
I loosen my grip and walk towards the wood shed.
“Smawty be gud! Smawty stay in poopie housies!”
“Not this time.”
I walk passed the woodshed.
“Whew dumbeh hooman take smawty?”
I don’t answer. I walked into my toolshed and shut the door behind me
“SCAWEDY POOPIES!!”
At the sound of the door slamming the smarty shits in fear.
“FUCKIN DISGUSTING!”
I threw the little bastard into my work bench. He hit shoulder first.
“HUUHUUHUU! Hooman no gib smawty fowevew sweepies! HUUHUUHUU!”
“Oh I’m not going to kill you. I just wanna make sure my point is across.”
I reached into my toolbox and pulled out a C clamp.
“Wha hooman do wif metaw toysie?”
I grab the hoof I previously clobbered and pull it out. The smarty screes in pain. I turn the clamp just enough to hold his leg still without breaking bone.
“No move weggie. Wha dummeh hooman do to weggie?”
I pull out the hoof knife I use to trim frostings hooves. Let’s just say I’m not going to be as gentle with this one.
“Looks like it’s bruising. We need to trim off the excess.”
I take off the end of his hoof.
“Huuhuu! Smawty No wan twim. Huu huu!” I take off another layer. Then another. Then another. Finally I’m at the quick. I look shit head in his eyes as I move the knife just a hair back into the quick.
“No! Hoofsie no need swiced!”
I tap the handle with a hammer. It slowly goes into the Fluffies little hoof.
“BADDEST OWIES! NO MO HUWTIES! SMAWTY SOWWY!!”
He voids his bowels again in fear.
“I don’t believe you.”
With one last solid wack the knife goes straight through the quick. Blood starts to ooze and the tender skin beneath is exposed.
“SCREEEEEE!!! BOO BOO JUICE!!! NO WIKE BOOBOO JUICE!!!”
“Oh. We wouldn’t want that to get infected.”
I grab a bucket of rock salt I use for snow and open it. I loosen the smarty. He immediately tries to run but pathetically falls off the bench onto the ground.
“Pwease… No mo huwties!”
Without hesitation I grab the smarty’s bleeding hoof and shove it into the salt bucket. He screams in pain.
“Now. I hope you understand.”
I say callously.
~two weeks later ~
It seems fall is over and winter has set in. Even though the babies are safe inside I still gave them extra blankets just to let them have the winter experience.
I haven’t seen much of shit head since that night. He hides when I drop his food bowl in the shed. Just the way I like it. I know he’s still there. The piles of fresh shit prove that.
He walks with a noticable limp now. Guess it’s a reminder of what happens if he tries anything again.
It’s snowing outside. Frosting and the baby’s are excited. I put on frostings ear muffs and scarf and she bolted out into the snow. The babies I tried my best to bundle up. I let them out into the snow. They seemed hesitant. Suddenly from the house I hear.
“HUUHUUHUU! BIGGEST POOPIES!!!”
I rush inside to find exactly what I thought. Mary had gone into labor. The first foal already had it’s head poking out. She finished pushing it out. One by one she popped out babies. Each one I handed to her to let her lick off the embryotic fluid. Finally what I assumed was the last one popped out. With the 4th and last baby out I decided to do something against my better judgement. I headed out to the wood shed.
“Hey shit head.”
No answer.
“I didn’t come to hurt ya. Your friend had her babies.”
Shit head popped his head out from behind a bench.
“Babbehs?.. Speciew fwen hab babbehs?”
“Yes she did. I may not like you but It be shitty of me to not let you atleast see them.”
He seemed hesitant but eventually followed me inside and to Mary’s safe room. Mary perked up.
“SPECIAW FWEN!!!”
The 2 hugged. Then she started showing him the now nursing babies.
“Speciaw fwen make pwetti babbehs. All twee babbeh pwetti.”
I stop and think to myself… 3?
“Hey there were 4 babies. Where did the other one go?”
The two Fluffies looked at me.
“… Speciaw fwen. Wer am otha babbeh”
Shit head asked.
“Otha babbeh bad poopy babbeh. These pwetti babbehs.”
They laughed.
“Stupid poopy babbeh”
I looked around and saw a small brown lump of fur sitting on the floor. I picked it up and it started chirping.
It starts suckling on your finger. But to it’s dismay. No milk.
“It’s hungry. You can’t just abandon it.”
She gets a mean look.
“Poopie babbehs no get miwkies. Mummahs miwkies am for pwetti babbehs. Poopie babbehs onwy get poopies!”
I’m shocked.
“What is with you things and shit!?! This is a baby! A baby you just popped out! And if you wanna live here it will get all the milk and love that the others get!”
She looks like she’s about to protest but the thought of being kicked out in the cold seems to persuade her.
I sit the brown foal down by her. It hungrily runs up and starts suckling.
"Dummeh hooman! Miwkies is for good pwetti babbehs! Not poopie babbehs! Poopie babbehs gets sowwy poopies!!!*
And without a second thought shit head lets a steaming brown pile of diarrhea loose on his new born baby. The “poopie baby” cries. As even it knows this is bad.
“UGH!!! I’m so tired of you things and your shit obsession!”
I grab the smarty by the back of his neck and shove him face first in the shit pile beside the baby.
“YOU LIKE SHIT YOU FUCKER?! YOU LICK THE BABY CLEAN RIGHT NOW!”
“NUUU! Nu wan num poopies!”
I shove his face in it harder.
"You eat all of it then lick your “poopy " baby clean. NOW! Or so help me I’ll bust your balls!”
“NUUU NU SPECIAW WUMP HUWTIES!!!”
“PWEASE NU HUWTIE SPECIAW FWEN!”
I ignore Mary’s cry to stop.
"Well start licking "
“NU! Sob NU WAN NUM POOPIES! NU TASTE PWETTI!”
“Well I tried.”
I grab the smarty’s “Speciaw wumps” and squeeze hard.
“NUUU WOWSTEST OUCHIES!!!”
I let go and punch them. The smarty throws up.
“PWEASE NU MO! SMARTY AM NUM POOPIE!”
“I thought you’d see reason. Get the puke too shit head.”
With extreme hesitation the smarty is forced to lick every disgusting drop of excrement from his baby.
" Now. God help you if you ever do that again. Because next time I’ll cut your “Speciaw wumps” off and feed them to you."
The stallion looked woozy. Carefully picking up the newly cleaned brown fluffy I walk off.
“Ya know little guy it’s gotta be rough. I’m really starting to understand why a lot of folk don’t like Fluffies.”
Later that day
I moved the bed with Mary and her babies into the living room. She protested saying the babies need the “nestie” in the safe room but I need to make sure the brown fluffy is getting fed too. It’s times like this I’m glad frosting is fixed. I threw shit head back outside. Made sure he landed balls first. The older talky babies came back inside soon after the birthing. They couldn’t handle the cold very long. They were amazed seeing the newborn chirpy babies. But it seems even they have an aversion to their “poopy” brother. These things are deceptive. Underneath their cute and cuddly exterior they’re oddly cruel. It’s like they don’t know sin. Yet somehow still embrace it.
~Two weeks later~
Whelp. The trio of older babies had a heartfelt goodbye today. I managed to find homes for the three of them. Sometimes I really wish these things couldn’t talk. That way I wouldn’t feel bad about sending them on their way. Away from the warmth of their mom and siblings. The new brood has started to speak. Though their vocabulary is very limited. Most of their murmurs consist of
“Wuv miwkies”
“Wuv mummah”
"Wuv bwockies’
“Nu wuv poopy babbeh”
“Babbeh make gud poopies fo mummah!”
I still feel bad for the little brown thing. Yeah I make sure it gets fed but I can tell the mother still doesn’t care for the little guy. Shit head comes out more now. Asking if he can see the babies. After the last incident he’s not coming in the house anymore. The shit stain won’t leave the carpet.
Sometimes at night I hear the little bastard sitting outside my window whining.
" Smawty am cowd! Sniffle smawty miss Speciaw fwen. Miss babbehs. Need Huggies. Need wuv. Sniffle Wan Enfies wif Speciaw fwen."
God this horny fucker doesn’t let up. I’d trap him and get him fixed but to be honest he’s not worth the money. Only reason he’s even still here is because Mary. Once these babies are grown and gone I’ll probably tell her to leave too. No one would ever adopt the two fully grown Fluffies. Especially with shit heads attitude. Maybe I’ll find a nice neighborhood and drop them off. It’ll be their problem then. All I know is I’m done having more than one fluffy.