Official Hasbio Kindergarten™ graduates.
Want a precious bundle of fluffy love of your own but don’t want the hassle of behavior and litter training?
We have the solution!
Official Hasbio™ trained Premium foals!
Available in a wide assortment of colors. These foals are specially trained from the minute they’re born to be the perfect little angel.
~ Fully litter trained
~ Socialized to all humans, animals, and other Fluffies
~ Guaranteed kind and loving
~ Constantly monitored for any signs of smarty behavior
~ RETURNS GUARANTEED in the first week of purchase
Financing available
That’s what the ad on your phone said.
Premium foals. Same worthless shitrats. Higher price.
Most abusers tended to stay away from the premium brats due to the high price.
Why sell your kidney to buy a fluffy just to torture it when you can find ferals for free?
So being premium pretty much meant that the shitrat was safe from people like you. and guaranteed a loving home to be spoiled in.
You walk into the store. Wad of hundred dollar bills in hand. Your grandmother passed a couple months ago, and you being the only grandchild inherited pretty much all of her savings. Much to your aunt and uncles dismay.
Should have been there taking care of her you dumb shits.
Anyways you’re now fifty thousand dollars Richer than you were.
I walk up to the counter.
Are you really about to pay four thousand dollars for a bougie shit rat?.. Of course you are.
“Welcome to Fluffies-R-us! How may I help you?”
The clean shaven man behind the counter says.
“I understand you guys sell premium foals? I’m here to see if there are any I can buy. I have the money with me.”
You say motioning to the wad as you take it out of your hoodie pocket.
The clerks eyes widen a bit at the cash. Can’t blame him. Most fluffy merchandise practically lives on the clearance shelf.
“You’re in luck my friend. While we don’t have any ready today we had a fresh batch born three days ago. I can bring you in the back and let you pick the one you wish to reserve.”
He motions for you to follow him as he walks through a door beside the counter.
You could already hear the babbling baby talk of Fluffies before you even entered the room.
The room is actually pretty luxurious by fluffy standards. The floor is covered in green shag carpet. The walls and ceiling are blue with clouds painted. Pictures of happy Fluffies painted along the bottom.
Not one cage in site. Guess if they’re supposed to be premium they don’t need restraints.
“You alright?”
You hear from the clerk. You zoned out.
“Oh. Sorry. Guess I’m not used to seeing a fluffy safe room so… Not fluffy proofed.”
You say with a chuckle. The clerk smiles.
“I know what you mean dude. When I started here I thought Hasbio was stupid for putting down carpet instead of hard floors, but as you can see. Not one poop stain anywhere. When they say these guys get trained from birth. They mean it.”
He says letting his customer service act drop for a moment.
“… Anyways let me take you to our new mother.”
He says walking towards what looked to be a wall of what could only be described as fluffy apartments. A two story shelf with big square cabinets. A ramp with a railing led from the floor to the second story. The inside was lined with soft blue padding and a large bed towards the rear. They even had curtains for privacy attached to the front. With a small string so a fluffy could pull it shut with their teeth.
The fact that these litte bastards are essentially living in the fluffy equivalent of a high end gated community tickles the rage receptors in your brain. “Keep it together” you think to yourself. You read online that they wont sell if they even catch a hint of abuser attitude.
“Ok. This pod belongs to our new momma.”
The employee says while standing in front of one of the fluffy apartments.
He hands you a clipboard.
Name: Clair
Gender: F
Litter: 5
Foal age: first week (early chirpy)
Teal colt unicorn
Yellow filly earthy
Mint green colt unicorn
White filly Pegasus
Orange filly earthy
You look over the list already thinking about which one is the unlucky loser.
The employee knocks on the side of the tiny apartment.
“Oh Clair. I’ve got someone to meet you.”
He says before opening the curtain. In the little padded cubby sat a white unicorn mare with a blue mane. Her five foals resting up against her tummy fluff.
“Gud bwight tiem mista davy!”
She says in the standard cheery tone.
You get a better look inside of these little dens. Inside one wall had what looked to be the bristles of a brush on it. You wondered what it was for until clair nonchalantly scratched her head on them. The bristles running through her mane.
“Fwuffy wub bestest scwatchies!”
She cood to herself.
The sight of such unnecessary luxury wasted on a shitrat already made your stomach churn. But that was nothing compared to what was on the back wall of this little fluffy condo. The entire rear wall of the den was a television screen set to fluffy tv. A single red button with the power symbol lay on a wired remote in front of it.
Their own private luxery suite with a private television that they could turn on and off at will? Oh yeah. These bitches are gonna pay.
“Who am dat mista davy?”
She asks in an inquisitive tone.
“This might be a new daddy to one of your foals. Why dont you let him have a good look at them.”
The employee says.
Clair stands and drags the fluffy bed over to the entrance. She’s gentle enough that her little chirpies don’t even move. If it wasn’t for their little tummies rising as they breath you’d assume they were dead.
You looked at the myriad of tiny shitrats. The green colt caught your eye. You thought about all the things that would make this tiny rat scream. You were just about to speak up Claire interrupted.
“Ou wook wike gun be bestest daddeh. How bout…”
She picks up her white foal and presents it to you. It lets out a scared chirp.
“How bout white babbeh? Cwaire fink it am gud fit!”
This was obviously bestest babbeh behavior. Though to be fair she was smarter about it than most fluffies.
The employee got a look of worry on his face before marking (Schedule appointment for potential BM syndrome)
On Claire’s chart.
“Ya know what. Thats a great idea. She is awfully cute.”
You say trying not to let your abuse boner shine through.
“Yay! Wha am babbehs namesies?”
She asks. You look at her a bit confused.
The employee speaks up.
“We let the buyer name the foals. That way theres no confusion with name changes.”
You think for a minute. Obviously Asswipe and Lil Dickhead are off the table. You decide to be generic.
“how about… Mallow. Like a marshmallow?.”
Her eyes light up with delight.
“FWUFFY WUB SWEETY MAWSHMAWWOWS! Am bestest namesies!”
Money changed hands and paperwork was signed. Now is just the waiting game.
You were told it would be three weeks before the foals are weened and trained. Till then you tried to prepare.
You bought a cat bed along with a couple bags of regular old foal kibble. You paid out four grand for this shitrat so you weren’t gonna kill it day one.
Days came and went. September turned to october. The leaves started turning and the night turned cold.
Finally the day came. You arrived at the store at 9am as requested. You were ushered into the safe room with four other people.
What you walked into was… well it was something. Pomp and circumstance (the graduation song) was playing and the five now talking foals were standing in a straight row with sashes and little graduation caps on.
“Alright everyfluffy. Now that your families are here. Time to finish up.”
The foals begin to babble in unison.
“We am gud babbehs! We pwomise ta awways gib huggies an wub! We neba eba maek bad poopies and we awways wub nyu famiwy! Pwease taek bestest cawe ob widdwe babbehs!”
You look around. The other four buyers are all smiles. Taking pictures of the little group with their phones.
“Alright babys. You are now officially graduates of hasbio™️ FLUFFY KINDERGARTEN! You may now go to your new family!”
The employee says.
The foals all start babbling at once.
“OOH OOH! BABBEH BET DAT ONE AM NYU DADDEH!”
The green colt says pointing towards the man next to you. If only the little green bastard knew just how close he came to being my new toy.
The foals were placed in little padded boxes that doubled as a foal bed and given to us. Graduation cap amd sash still in place. The little green shit guessed right. Goodbye greeny. Maybe someday you’ll run away and I can find you on the street. Till then. You’re safe… Mallow on the other hand.
“N…Nice mistah am mawwows nyu daddeh?”
It asks as it gazes up towards me. Innocence in its eyes.
“Yep. Thats right little dude. You’re coming home with me.” You say. Trying to hide the disgust in your voice staring at the small being. Something about fluffies in clothes. It just pressed your buttons. Especially whenever you saw one dressed like a human baby.
The thought of such luxuries being wasted on creatures that happily make their own offspring eat their excrement solely for being (poopy colors) sickened you.
You were given a manual on how to care for a premium foal and headed home.
Mallow… surprisingly hasn’t piped up the entire ride home. You even checked her carrier once to make sure she wasn’t dead. She just sat there quietly humming a tune to herself. Looking out of the side of her clear carrier watching the scenery go by.
Every other fluffy you’ve brought home thought that the car ride wad traumatic.
“NU WIKE VWOOMY MUNSTAH! IT NUM BABBEH!”
Or the opposite. Chatting about how nice this was.
“Mummah hab biggest heawt happies dat hab nyu daddeh. Nao mummah an babbehs nu haf ta num twashies. Ow maek sweepies in cowd boxie housies.”
But never… silence… guess these little bastards really are well behaved.
We arrived home. As I removed Mallow’s carrier and he saw my small out of the way abode her first words were a polite “Dis Nyu housie? Am suuu pwetty.”
She says in an obviously rehearsed tone. Like a theater kid reading from a script. Her eyes and facial expression told a different story. One of… disappointment.
While my house was by no means a one room shack I’m sure it didn’t compare to the luxurious mansions or beach homes that the foals were promised as a new house.
Her look of disappointment was unchanged as we entered. My old dark green living room obviously failing to impress.
“Ok Mallow. Now lets go to your very own saferoom.”
I said still trying to keep a kind tone. Her eyes lit up.
“MAWWOW GET OWN SAFEWOOM!?! Wif toysies an nummies am teebee!?!”
You didnt answer.
You walked to the closet that you’d prepared. To be fair this was a decent sized walk in closet that most fluffies could only dream of having as their own little space.
When I opened the door and showed mallow her new home she looked around. She seemed confused at first but began to laugh. Slowly devolving into a loud cackle.
“TEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE SNORT D-DADDEH OU AM SU FUNNEH!!”
She begins to compose herself.
“Mawwow wub daddeh. Dis am bestest jokies! Nao whewe am weaw housie an safewoom?”
She asks. Completely serious.
“… oh boy.”
You say to yourself as she gazes expectantly into your eyes.
“This isn’t a joke. This IS your saferoom Mallow.”
She continues to look at you. She cocks her little head to the side.
" Otay daddeh. Jokies nu am funneh nu moh. Whewe am bestest softie sweepy pwace? An big teebee wif wemote? Whewe am wittah box dat nummie poopies by sewf an… an… whewe am big pretty housie?"
She asks still looking confused.
This thing is serious. What all did the store promise these little bastards?
Your thoughts are cut short by the rumble of a little tummy.
“Oooh. Babbeh hab tummeh owies daddeh… whewe am bestest nyu homesies day sketties?”
You open that book that the shelter gave you and right there on the first page it reads.
“All foals are ensured that once they get to their new homes they’ll be treated to a large spaghetti dinner. We encourage this as it makes the seperation process easier.”
You read over this little posh book before looking back down at the pampered bitch.
“… boy you’re in for a surprise.”
~ To be continued
