Policefluffs (Author:Oculus)


~By Oculus~


>you are Sprinkles

>your official name is Rainbow Sprinkles

>but your colleagues call you “Donut Sprinkles”

>you are a policefluff

>you have never known your parents

>your earliest memory was of the Hasbio staff who nursed you, and, Jenny, who raised you

>you get routine check-ups. you get surgeries

>you maintain the appearance of a near-adult foal for a specialized role only you can perform

>you do not know your actual age. or if you can actually age

>every time you feel that you are getting weaker, older, or injured in some part, and you mention it to your superior, you get the huwtie that puts you to sleep

>you wake up, and you feel better

>but you sometimes feel like the arm you have is not the same as the previous day

>somedays, it is some other part

>this happens a lot

>it is morning

>you’re in your room

>you have just woken up, and you’re nude

>the figure of the kind police missus comes into the room, with your uniform. Its Jenny

“Big day today huh, Princess?”

>she’s one of the few people who call you ‘Princess’

>you nod, in response to her question

>she gets downs on her knees, and places the police shirt on you

>followed by the jacket, which she carefully buttons up

“You know what to do right?”

“Same as awways, mistwess.”

“Don’t be afraid to call for help if you need it, Princess.”

“It otay, mistwess. Mistwess know Pwincess can taek it.”

>she smiles at you and hugs you

>she leads down to the corridor, outside the interrogation room

>you can see the child in there.

>she’s huddled in a corner, her face buried in her knees, her arms around her legs

>you eavesdrop, and hear the big Cap’n Burke talking

“Poor girls not talking. We got enough evidence to convict her father, but we need some testimony from the girl herself.”

“Has Jenny tried talking to her?”

“She won’t budge even with Jenny around.”

>the big Cap’n looks at you

>he really wants to avoid using you

“I guess we have to send in Donut here.”

>the captain bends down. He’s ready to brief you

“Wats da situwation, Cap’n?”

“The girl in the room has a bad daddeh, but is afraid to talk about it. She’s not talking to your mummah Jenny.”

>you look into the room

>you look into the eyes of the girl

>it feels familiar

“Spwinkles is weady.”

“Remember to press the buzzer if you need help, Donut. Remember, you’re not Superman.”


“Hewwo dere.”

>the girl is still huddled in the corner

“Dun be afwaid. I’m Pwincess Spwinkles. I wanna be yo fwen.”

>she looks up at you. She hesitates

“I’m jus a fwuffy. Mummah Jenny sez yous haz a fwuffy?”

>the girl nods

“Is fwen otay?”

>she shakes your head

“Pwincess is sowwy. Can mummah tell pwincess aboot yur fwuffy?”

>the girl remains silent. Perhaps that was the wrong approach

>you have to try something else. You glance to your Mistress and Captain Burke

>you know that you could stop at any time. But you also got a job to do

“Do yu liek fwufftv?”

>the girl looks at you

>she nods

"Coo~! Pwincess wuv FwuffTV!

Wha yu wuv to wotch?"

“…I like to watch Babbehs.”

>oh no

>that’s a bad sign. This has happened before

>Jenny has a very worried look on her face, and so too does Burke. They already want to stop the interrogation

>but you press a blue button on the device hidden underneath your jacket. You have to do this

“Pwincess wuv babbehs too! Babbehs awe so kyoot!”

“Babies are very cute. I would like to have babies. My daddy wants babies.”

>She starts to stand up. She picks you up, and places her arms around you, in a tight hug

>sits the sit on the chair. You are placed on her lap

"Daddy would hold me like this. Then the show would come on.

And then we sing “Daddeh wuvs babbehs, babbehs wuv daddeh, babbehs get miwkies, grow up big and stwong.”

>the line is wrong. you know this.

“Why are you not singing, Princess?”

>before you could finish your sentence-


>it comes out slowly

“D-daddeh w-wuvs babbehs, babbehs wuv daddeh, babbehs get miwkies, gwow up big and stwong.”

>she keeps hugging you

>as she keeps hugging you, you realize that her hand is going towards your special lumps

>your lumps are neutered, so you feel no sensation. but you can feel the vigorous rubbing

>the girl keeps singing. a tear drops from your eye

>Mistress Jenny is uncomfortable. Officer Burke sighs, knowing full well what is going on. The video footage is enough

“It otay, fwen. Yu can put fwuffy down.”

"Its not okay.

Daddeh wants to give miwkies."

>oh dear

“Give miwkies… give miwkies…”

>she keeps rubbing you around your lump areas

“Daddy, I don’t want the miewkies… don’t want the enfies…”

>the rubbing is become vigorous. It is starting to hurt

>Officer Burke wants to get in, but you keep pressing the blue button

"Don’t want enfies… don’t want enfies”

>she’s starting to dry hump you

>she sobs softly, while repeating the sounds “Enf, enf enf”

>as she keeps bumping you up and down on her pelvis, you want her to stop

>You remain silent and feign a lack of emotion

>but inside, you are crying.


>and with a sudden motion, she throws you across the room

>you hit the wall

>god, it huwt.

>Officer Burke and Jenny rushes into the room

>for a moment, your mistress wants to attend to you, but she then remembers that her place is with the child first

>she kneels down before the child, huddled in the corner again

>the girl is sobbing uncontrollably. When jenny approaches her, she holds her arms back, fearing that she is about to be hit.

“Don’t cry, dear. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry…I’m sowwy… fwuffy is sowwy.”

>the girl keeps calling herself a fluffy. another bad sign

>Cap’n Burke is with you

“Donut?! Are you okay?”

>you’re hurt. but you stand up

“I’m otay, Cap’n.”

>he hugs you. A tear drops from his eye

“You’re too brave, Donut.”



>You are Carlos

>you are a Policefluff

>you are in uniform

>you’re seated on the desk with your daddeh

>it is another day

>all the hummehs are passing by

>there are hundreds of them

>no thousands

>the hummehs walk through a rectangle

>then the daddeh waves the magic wand around them

>you understand it almost

>there is a “good boy” beside you

>your frens, Sprinkles, Buddy and Outback call them “doggos”

>but you like to call them “good boys”. That’s what Buddy calls them too

>the good boys love to sniff bags

>sniff sniff

>you like to sniff to, but you are designed to sniff in a different way

>there a weird looking Mistah coming in.

>he’s holding a fluffy

>usually, girls hold fluffies

>sometimes boys

>and if it’s a daddeh, he would be wearing a cute t-shirt or something that shows how much he wuvs fwuffies

>but this mistah is wearing sunglasses and a long green coat

>he wooks shushpichus

“Anything to declare?”

>the sunglasses mistah looks at your daddeh

>he shakes his head

>the good boy is smelling his bag. They’re not smelling something suspicious

>but something about the fluffy feels odd

>he looks sick. Kind of unwell

>the mistah is pacing about

>he looks like he’s in a hurry

“Sir, I want you to put down the fluffy.”

“Its just a fluffy.”

“Yes, but in this state we have to check fluffies.”

“It’s a toy, its not even-“

“Here, biotoys count as animals.”

>reluctantly, the mistah slowly puts down the fluffy

>he’s pale. He looks sick

>he looks at you

>you initiate contact

“Huwwo fwen!”


“Wha’ fwen name.”

>he’s silent. He looks at his owner

>the shuspishus mistah is still shifting about

>he looks back at you


“Otay, Hawwy. Wun pway a gaem?”


“Wets pway Pattycaek!”

>Both of you hold your hands up. You’re ready to play Pattycake.

>both of you sing the song

“Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, bakuh’s man.

Bake me a caek a’ fass a’ yu can”

>as both of you clap, you then have your right hoof clap with his left hoof

>clap again, and then left hoof with his right hoof

“Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, bakuh’s man.

Bake me a caek a’ fass a’ yu can”

>the two of you keep doing it faster

>as you keep it doing faster, Hawwy is starting to look like he’s going to throw up

“Pat it, and pwick it, and mawk it wit’ a “B”

And paht it in da oven for Babbeh and me!

>with the final clap, Harry vomits

>out of the vomit, you can see a bag

>and the smeww

>the terrible smeww of the vomit

>but also the smeww of the things that give weirdie sickies

>the good boy is starting to bark. He couldn’t smell this from the luggage

>the mistah is starting to blush

>he tries to run, but your daddeh aims his huwtie at the munstah mistah

>the mista starts to shake violent, then fall to the ground

>another lady officer comes in, this time to pick up Harry. You overhear your daddeh talking to her

“That’s another one Miranda. The kind of things these bastards do to these poor fluffies.”

>you wonder what will become of Harry



>You are Outback

>You are a fair-dinkum Ozziefluff

>You are also a fair-dinkum fluffalo

>Fluffalos have a long and strong history in ‘Straya

>You grew up on a ranch in ‘Straya with your “father”

>Your father, Buck, was one of the largest steers amongst Fluffalo-kind

>one day, you were shipped out of ‘Straya to the Mega-City

>you still remember your father’s advice

“Alright sonny Jim. Yer be a good lad, yer hear me? Don’t be a fuckhead, do hard yakka and fuck up anyone whose a fuckwit to ya.”

>you know what you are. You are also a steer.

>Ozziefluffs are not stupid, even when Hasbio staff try to hide the truth from them

“Mega-City wants to purchase Jim here?”

“You said he’s the finest clone of Buck right? I think there be a far better use for him than in meat production if he’s too large for the fluffalo abattoir. Plus Outback is pretty unique.”

>you got it luckier than most other steers. Your father was also lucky.

>you are fine with the name Outback. To you, only a few people, including your father, can call you Jim.

>you’ve been in the force for about a year now

>you’re a fluff of few words, at least when you’re in public

>most times, you nod, you grunt, and when you’re happy, you smile

>you subscribe to the belief of “speaking softly, but carry a big fucken’ stick.”

>sometimes you work with the dingoes, but you prefer to work with the human blokes

>particularly the blockhead coppers who are in the special weapons and tactics team

>buncha loveable cunts


>some big shit is going down today, you reckon

>you’re being outfitted

>your handler places the Bosstown Kevlar suit on your body, making sure that your body is covered where needed

>you feel like a fuckin’ Rhino

>Because you’re an Ozziefluff, you’re able to understand the briefing

>you can remember what the commanding officer said

“Alright, we got reports of members of the JellenHeim cult located in Sector 54. They’re hauled up in this area of the arcology.”

>your commanding office waves his hands around on the hologram, in order to enlarge the building your mates are going to raid. Buncha technology shite.

“The 35th to 50th blocks are the Industrial sectors, while the 5 blocks below are the residential areas for the workers. The industrial sectors have been inactive for a while, so the cultists must have moved into this warehouse block about a month or so ago.

However, the warehouse cleared up a week ago, according to our contacts, so they may have retreated to residential blocks here to avoid suspicion.”

>you raise your hoof

“Oi mate. Are there some fucken Jellenheimers down there?”

“No Jellenheimers have reported, Outback, but stay frosty. That’s why both Rex and you are on this mission as well.

Remember to keep your Psi-Blocks on, men.”


>Fucken Jellenhemiers, you think

>you only say them once before, in ‘Straya

>Ozziefluffs of all kinds are able to fight back the various invasive species, including the lop-eared cunts and the fukken cane toads

>but Jellenheimers, those are the fukken devil. They’re rare, but when you see one, they can make your knees shake

>The Jellenheimers have been known to kill people. And when you saw that Jellenheimer that day, as its black eyes stared into your soul, you could feel it invading your mind

>but you walked back to the farm that day. Bruised, bloodied, but not beaten

>with the corpse of the tiny Jellenheimer on your horn

>your father licked your wounds for the rest of the day. You were out of action for a week.

>but you survived. And you are stronger because of this.


>The team have assembled outside the room

>all the other rooms have scanned for activity, and only this one was left

>two of your squadmates are standing beside the door. Ready to start the breach

>as they wave the hand signals, its all down to you

>you lower your head

>you snort

>you drag your right hoof against the ground, mimicking the Spanish Fighting Bull

>and you charge!

>as you break through the door, your squadmates throw the tear gas cyclinders

>they rush in, laser sights on

>however, as they do this, you hear the thunder


>fuck, the cultists are also wearing gas masks

>you bend your head down

>and run towards the fuckhead


>with all your might, you push him, allowing your squadmate the chance to incapacitate him

>in the next moment, with your powerful hind legs, you kick the other cultist next to him

>it’s over

“Sir, there’s only two men here. Most of the cultists left a week ago. No explosives were found, this feels like either an amateur job, or the real important shit moved out earlier.”

>as your squad continue to investigate, you see the cultist pinned down on the ground

“Fucking big shitrat. You’re kind will die out, and all-“

>you turn you rear towards the direction of his face, and let out a big gasp of flatulence

“Ah fucking hell! The fucking shitrat far-“


>as your squadmate reads out the Miranda rights, you see a poster of the face of a Jellenheimer on the wall

>its big black eyes staring at you, along with the letters in black ink reading “JOIN US”

>you mutter to yourself “Buncha fackhead cunts.”

>you need a bowl of VB



>you are rather thin for a fluffy pony

>some have compared you to a greyhound

>others have compared you to a Dalmatian

>but you still have hooves, you still have a snout, you still have a lot of fluff, and you still neigh. Sometimes

>your mother was a pedigree Yehdoo, one of the more common breeds of Fluffy, popular as a service animal. You have her legs, her size, and her stamina

> your father was of Hasbio’s second generation line of IntelliFluffs. From him, you have your intelligence, and your ability to speak to your masters with reason.

>you grew up with both of your parents in a controlled setting in Hasbio, but you have been trained, day to day, for a specific purpose

>about 6 months ago, you have been shipped, from Hasbio’s main HQ, to one of the Police Units at the Mega-City.

>you are a Policefluff

>You are Buddy

>you have been assigned to the K9 unit of the police force

>you hold two important roles

>as a fluffy member of the K9 unit, you are a companion to the police canines

>police dogs tend to be rough around fluffies, particularly the weaker ones, so one of the programs currently is to breed fluffies that can ‘live with the dogs’

>you live in a kennel with the other dogs

>the life is hard, but you are used to it

>though you were born in comfort, the Hasbio staff had slowly groomed you to live without the comforts you had been exposed to as a foal

>you had spent a week in outfield at one time, and had to learn how to live without amenities, relying on the elements for survival

>you do miss FluffTV, but you can live without it

>your handler, Clark, is kind of enough to give you the one thing that does help you go to sleep – a book

>the dogs are good boys

>they can be rough, but they’ve come to accept you as a friend

>in many ways, you find the entertainment in playing with the dogs more fulfilling than FluffTV

>sometimes, you have worked with the veteran, Outback

>a fluffalo, he’s a lot more rough around the edges and very crass

>but he has helped you fit in. You’re indebted to him

>one day, your handler received a call

>though meant only for his ears, you managed to eavesdrop on the communication

“The victim has been missing for about a week now. His parents are worried, but we have reason to believe that he is being targeted by the JellenHeim cult….”

“Are you sure about this? Shouldn’t we at least….”

“We have to avoid suspicion. Human contact should be as minimal as possible….”

>a few hours later, Clark leads you to the carrier drone

>you are accompanied by your three partners: Huey, Dewey and Louie

>they’re all German Shepherd Good Boys

>Clark presses the button on the drone that preps its engine for the autopilot

>as the drone starts to ascend, Louie starts to howl

>placing your hoof on his back you try to calm him

“Good boy…. Don’t be scared….”

>the drone travels through the skyline of the city

>it is night. The lights are alive, and the buildings radiate with continuous energy

>you see the billboards alive with the dreams and machinations of your masters

>from the distance, it feels like progress. But behind the façade of the smiling faces are wirings and movements incomprehensible to the naked eye

>smoke stacks billow from the various arcologies, which triple as residential, commercial and industrial facilities, rolled into one convenient location

>in a world with an ever-increasing population, the easiest way to solve a shanty town is to just make them taller

>the carrier slowly hovers towards the entrance for hovercars on the 51st floor of the Arcology in question

>the contact is a plainclothes detective who is currently waiting at the allieway

>his name is Mac, and fills you on the details

“Alright, here’s the skinny.

The victim was last seen skulking around the alleyway during the past few days. We have reason to believe he was hiding, from the Cult, but there’s been a rumour that he is actually with the cult.”

“What rumours?”

“From what we understand, the ferals in the alleyways around here have been creating symbols that we don’t understand yet. Some seem to indicate the possible presence of Jellenheimers, but there seem to be new symbols that make no sense.

We need you to investigate these symbols by talking to the ferals around these alleyways. One dog will be assigned to you, but you can call the other two for backup if need be.”

“I’ll take Huey with me, but won’t the ferals be suspicious about a lone fluffy with this good boy by my side?”

“Just say the dog is your friend. Remember, you need to convince them that he’s a good boy, and not a bawky munstah.”

>An hour or so has passed

>walking by the alleyways of the abandoned warehouses of the arcology, you see the many created alleyways

>these slums are the result of Man’s continuous climb to build greater things over a limited land space, but inability to manage them during hard times

>as you walk through the dank atmosphere of the small hallways, you catch a glimpse of a feral running by

>he was apparently making a symbol on the wall

>the symbol of a rotund face with a smile and two black eyes

>the Jellenheimer

>but there’s also another symbol. You can’t quite make it out

>a seemed to be a Stick figure. But the figure is not holding the dreaded sorry stick

>it seems to be holding a tray of sorts

>you’re on to something. But chasing ferals will be tough

>you look for a local

>as you walk by, you see a cardboard box

>you tap on it

“Go ‘way! Fwuffy wan no twubble.”

“It otay, fwen. Imma fwuffy.”

>this is your other role. Being raised by an older generation fluffy as a mother, you are capable of alternating between the speech of the Megacity, and Fluffspeak. Your handler says you are capable of learning more languages, but you can’t speak a lick of Outback’s Strine. At least not yet.

>the feral peeks out

>he sees the good boy beside you, his tongue sticking out. Huey is not detecting danger and is being friendly

>the feral is still unsure though

“Will bawky munstah huwt?”

“It okay, fwen. Doggo here a good boi.”


You’ve talked to him for about five minutes.

“Fwuffy know what dat sine mean?”

>he looks left and right

>he is shuddering

“Sum time, da munstah come. A hummeh munstah. He kiww fwuffyies. And den, wen dey forever sleepie, he bwing dem to the prayie pwace.”

“Da prayie pwace?”

>he nods

“Sum of fwuffys frens hav oso gone to prayie pwace. Join da Jelly hurd.”

“Iz prayie place ver big?”

>he shakes his head

“No, only a woom. But fwuffy no wan go dere.

Jelly hurds fwuffs make dose sines dere. Fwuffy iz scured.”

>as he keeps talking, a line of concern crosses your mind

“Why stay in box, fwen?”

“No udda pwace to go. Speshul fren forever sleepies, daddeh forever sleepies, babbehs forever sleepies. Onwy fwuffy lef.”

>You’ve talked to too many ferals who have been in that sitation

>but now there’s a larger problem. The fluffy is clearly speaking of a JellenHeim altar, somewhere nearby

>though what is more puzzling is that some ferals are now joining the cult

>the cult has been capturing and sacrificing ferals as part of the ritual, but this is the first time you are hearing of them recruiting fluffies

>that’s enough evidence for the day

>you make your way from the alleyways to an area where you can see people walking

>there’s a few shops, a number of people (mostly homeless) and enough pedestrians

>within the arcology, residences beside a warehouse is considered a little safer than the alleyways and the abandoned warehouses.

> you make a call

“Hello Mac, this is CuChi reporting. Please bring me-“

>Just before you can finish your sentence, Huey starts to bark.

>he’s picking up a scent

>you chase after him. He’s moving way too fast

>you have been able to pace with these dogs, but you’re not the muscle, they are (also Outback, but he’s picky)

>Huey is standing over a grate

>he’s barking way too loud

>you look carefully

“What’s tha-“

>and then you see it. The face of a young man, about 17, who dropped out of high school, and had gone missing for a week. His hands are bloodied. But a knife is planted deep into chest. His eyes are bulging out, but have gone completely black

>you have found the missing person. A little bit too early, a little bit too late.



Buddy is walking down the hallways of the stations. The dogs are at the kennel resting. They had their dinner earlier but, this evening, Buddy was not dining with them. At 60 centimetres tall, Buddy is fairly tall for a fluffy, having traits of the Yehdoo pedigree. He walks with a confident stride, his eyes always alert, and his sense of smell keen.

Along the way, he passes by one of the clerks. Although it was said softly, he could hear the clerk spit, followed by the words “Shit rat.” It is not the first time he, or any of the other fluffies, have endured this prejudice at the office. But they take it. Except for Outback, but that’s another story. No one in the office messes with Outback.

This is a special evening, which occurs at least once a week. In a small room, near Jenny’s office, there is a recreation of the mess hall the other police officers eat at. However, this “mess hall” is scaled to the size of a typical office room, the tables reach up to the height of a small child. There are sinks, and a place where you can wash trays, but the “mess” serves another purpose.

Buddy is the first to be seated. As he takes place at the table, he sees the meal prepared for him. A tray of various types of dog food, including minced meat, kibble, and biscuits. To his left is a bowl of vegetarian ravioli, with donuts as a desert. Across him is a tray with prawns from a barbie, Vegemite on bread, some lettuce, and a bowl of Victoria Bitter. And on his right is a nice, steaming plate of spaghetti Bolognese, with an extra helping of tomato ragu.

Princess comes in next. She’s been with the force the longest out of the fluffies, and has the most experience. She is an alicorn, which makes her a rarity, and disliked by many ferals. However, more domesticated fluffies, including the policefluffs, have grown accustomed to her. Buddy is not sure what breed Princess is, but he knows that she is a showfoal, and thus, one of the ‘toy’ breeds. However, and from what he understands, Princess undergoes various operations to keep her current figure. Princess was the student of Gerald, who was a bit of a legend as a Policefluff in the Force.

“Huwwo Buddie.”

“Huwwo Pwincess. How is fwen todae?”

Princess blushes. Buddy has been a nice fluffy in the short while he has been in the force. But sometimes, she feels that he is too formal around her.

“Fwuffy iz otay. Awso, siwwy Buddy, nu need for fwen to tok wike Pwincess aww da tiem.”

“Oh alright then, Princess. I just like to practice my Fluffspeak.”

“Pwincess ahndastahn.”

Carlos is the next to come in. Out of the four he is the youngest. He is rather typical for a fluffy, with short munchkin legs and a yellow fur. Having just reached adulthood, he’s rather young and enthusiastic.

“Huwwo Pwincess! Huwwo Buddy!”

“Hey there Carlos”

“Huwwo Cawl!”

Carlos sits at the table, licking his lips. He loves spaghetti. Bolognese, Carbonara, Aglio, he just loves spaghetti. Without waiting for the others, he begins to chow down. Working at the immigration without a break makes him a fairly hungry fluffy.

Outback is the last to come in. He can barely fit through the door, but he manages. Taller than Buddy, he is the biggest fluffy in the room. An Ozziefluff, he is also a Murray Grey type Fluffalo, and has recently been ‘edited’ to have his fluff look like urban camouflage.

“G’day mates.”

“Hey Outback.”

“Huwwo Ou’bak!”

With Outback seated at the table, the rest of the fluffies start to eat. Buddy wolfs down the minced meat, much like Carlos with his spaghetti. Princess is daintier, and slowly eats each ravioli bit, piece by piece. Outback is the slowest, chewing each lettuce leaf one by one in a manner not that different from cattle.

For the first five minutes, the only sounds in the room are that of the constant chewing. But that is not the only reason the fluffies congregate to this particular mess. And after a while, Buddy tries to initiate the conversation.

“I heard today was pretty rough, Princess. Sorry to hear.”

“It tuff. Bu’ Pwincess twy.”

“There’s been more of these bad daddehs lately.”

Princess sadly nods, as she says
“Lotsa bad daddehs join da Jelly hurd.”

“The Jellenheim Cult?”

“Dat wat Pwincess mean. Wittwe mummahs made to prep for da Jelly Hurd.”

Buddy feels disturbed, and he’s not the only one.

“Buncha fackheads.”

“Heard you took down a cell all by yourself, Outback.”

“Hardly a cell, Buddy. Just two fucken cunts. But there’s been more of 'em fackhead cuntists, bloody oath. What 'bout you Carlos?”

“Carwos doin’ fine, baht daddeh haz ben maken more bad mistahs dancie watewy. Dere woz this one fwuffy, Hawwy, who daddeh made sickie.”

“Absolutely disgusting, mate.”

As Outback says this, the door opens. Its, Roger the meter maid. Being a Fluffy with Smartie traits, Roger keeps trying to have dinner with this particular group of fluffies. However, as a meter maid, Roger has his own mess hall with other fluffy meter maids.

“Go ‘way, Woger.”

“Bu Woger no wanna eat wit udda fwuffies…”

“Get lost Roger.”

“Piss off, cunt!”

Feeling dejected, Roger walks off. Carlos feels a bit sorry for him, but Princess is the first speak to him.

“Roger iz a bad smawtie. He nu wun of us.”

Outback nods in agreement.

As the fluffies are about to finish their meal, a thought lingers in Buddy’s mind. One that he decides to voice out.

“You know, with the increase in drug traffickers, reports of cultists, and more of these bad daddehs, I can’t help but feel like there’s something looming across the corner. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it.”

“It awways nuu good, Buddie, but we awways twy.”


The third fic I wrote for fluffybooru, then posted to the subreddit, and now posted here on the new site. The premise is fluffies working in the police force, while the setting is a cyberpunk Blade Runner-ish future megalopolis. I was heavily inspired by this picture by MEH, as well as my own personal wish that more fluffy pony stories made use of a cyberpunk setting.

Some notes:

  • Princess Sprinkles is based off the use of anatomical dolls in child sexual abuse cases. The character is also homage to @RQ 's Gerald, who played a similar role in one of the later comics @RQ did.

  • Outback is based off the battering rams used by policemen, especially SWAT, to break down doors for a breech. I was inspired by the Fluffalo, which was covered in a greentext back in the early days of the Fluffy fiction, as well as Pumpkiin’s Fluffalo OC. In turn, and because of the cattle influence, I decided to make Outback an Ozziefluff. More about ozziefluffs can be read here.

  • Buddy was a mix of many ideas, one of those being the idea that a smarter fluffy was basically a talking dog. In addition, and due to the complex influence feral fluffies would have on future society, an idea dawned on my head that the police would use a fluffy who could interact with ferals as a sort of infilitration unit.

  • Carlos was a funny idea I had when thinking about how Customs people would check Biotoys for narcotics

  • There was a fifth vignette, one for Roger, which can be read on the /trash/ thread I first wrote this. I was thinking of including it here, but it was too meta, and was very different in tone from the rest of the other vignettes. I might release as its own piece if people on the booru are interested, but I also feel Roger’s piece works better on 4chans imageboard+greentext style

  • There is a sequel to Policefluffs which I will upload later on.


Incredibly i hope you make more

I am really digging this and hope it turns into a series. Great job with all of the world-building.

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The sequel, Policefluffs 2, is up now.

Sort of Judge Dredd fluffies?

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That was one of the inspirations, yes. This all takes place in a Mega-City of the far future, and the police is sort of patterned after the Judges of 2000 AD. But there’s also other influences like Blade Runner and a certain horror movie.

I’m not sure I’m right about the horror movie you were referencing. Do you read Sutter Cane?

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Correct director and correct “trilogy” of movies, wrong movie. (Also Policefluffs 2 has more deliberate references to specific horror movie)

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Only thing i could think of upon seeing the title Policenauts - Opening Theme - YouTube