Two months since Arianna had lost her beloved pet, Rose. Her parents on the other hand bidded her good riddance. Then again, she HAD been spoiling her too much. She was getting tired of her not using the litterbox and thus making “sorry poopsies”. A part of her thinks that Rose doesn’t care.
All because she had the idea of wanting foals. Arianna had enough trouble with ONE Fluffy, but multiple? She was with her folks on that one. Maybe they were right to get a dog or cat instead, but they also know that Fluffies, at least the single toned ones, are cheap. And the fact you can pick a feral up from the streets just like that. But one might end up having to take multiple, or a “bad colored” foal just because they are unwanted by their mother.
Seeing how Rose turned out from her unintended spoiling, 200 bucks down the drain indeed. Buying Rose herself, AND the toys that she quickly grew bored of. The kibble is cheap, but she outright refuse to eat it and would only eat spaghetti. Thank god that she couldn’t tell the difference from actual spaghetti and shedded vegetables.
That experience kinda put the family on hold on buying a replacement any time soon. And obviously not because she was a beloved pet.
But Arianna could only hope, walking down the street on the way back from school on a rainy day. That she might come across Rose again for a tearful reunion, actually not exactly tearful but still.
What did come across however is a tiny cheep when she came across an alley. Looking for the source, she looks down to see a small earthie foal. A sorry state, unfortunately. As it has its tiny bones showing under his shit crusted orange-brown fluff. Poor thing, she thought, it is because it is a “Poopie Fluffy”. Even as a 14 year old, she knows the contradiction of the fact that how such creature that where designed for love and affection could display such callousness and cruelty.
Unable to just, leave it to its fate, she picked up the wet shit covered foal and holds it close as she took it home. There is no guarantee that she will keep it, but it could at least be clean and fed to be taken to a shelter.
Once she did bring it home, as expected, her parents are… unwilling to take it in.
“Young lady, don’t you remember what happened with Rose?” Asks her frustrated mother. “She ended up becoming a spoiled little monster.”
“And we may not afford to keep this one if it brings the same result.” Adds her father.
“But we might not have to?” Replies Arianna. “We still have Rose’s old stuff. And I couldn’t just leave him there…”
“Because it is a bad color. It’s common for something like that to be rejected.” Says her mother.
“But to be pooped on and left to die in rain?” Arianna says exasperated. “Just because he didn’t turn out the way his mom wanted him to be!? What if that were me if I was born not the way you two wanted?”
“One, we would never do such a thing.” Rebukes her father. “And two, this is different. You are a human, and this is a Fluffy. They are that way be design.”
“Then the design is stupid.” The redhead girl looks on the ground with a scowl.
“Yes. It is.” Arianna’s father agreed. “We couldn’t risk keeping it though.”
“Can’t we nurse him at least?” Begs Arianna. “We could put him in a shelter afterwards, please?”
Her parents look at each other.
“Alright.” Sighs her mother. “But if it shows any signs we saw in Rose…”
“I’ll raise him probably this time, don’t worry.” Arianna replies.
“Hope we don’t have to, sweetie.” Says her father. “I’ll ready the safe room.”
“And I’ll help you clean the foal.” Adds her mother. “…and your jacket.”
“Thanks mom, thanks dad.” Smiles Arianna.
…
He was cold, so dark and very cold. He couldn’t open his eyes yet and couldn’t hear his mama. He cheeps and begs for his mama to come to give him huggies and licky cleanies. But all he got was being shit on and hit with raindrops. All he could do was helplessly chirp until he felt something, lifting him up. It was warm. Still wet, but warm.
After a while he could hear voices, was it mama and daddy? He wants hugs and mikies. He NEEDS hugs and milkies. But instead he got hit with a trickle of water again. Water is bad got fluffies, he mentally screams as loudly cheeps in rapid succession while he was being scrubbed.
“I know, I know.” Said a small voice. “Just bear with it…”
“Alright, time to dry it.” Follows a second voice, it sounds older.
He couldn’t help but trust it though. But it still a stressful experience until he feels like he was being wiped. Huggies? He asks himself. He has huggies but what about…
Then he hears another voice. One that is deeper than the other two.
“I don’t know what could be a replacement for milk those foals usually drink but could a protein shake work?” He asks.
“Might as well.” Replies the woman’s voice.
Then he feels something pressing against his mouth. It smells sweet. Milkies! He immediately begins to suckle on the foreign object until he couldn’t drink anymore.
And then… he gains the strength to open his eyes for the first time, to see human girl with red hair and brown eyes looking down at him.
“Hello there, little guy.” She coos. “What should I call you?”
Is she his mama? He peeps as he tries to lift his hooves towards her.
“How about Rusty? For your color?” Mama said. “Would you like that?”
Rusty… he likes his new name. He trills in happiness.
“Ok, Rusty. You can call me Arianna.” Mama smiles.
…
It didn’t take long for the chirpy foal to start forming words on his own. And Arianna starts teaching him things. Which she takes the time to repeat it once a day verbatim. To hopefully get him to behave out of habit.
Always use the litterbox if he needs to make poopies. Always eat in a certain time. Always say please and thank you.
She is doing whatever she can to make sure she didn’t accidentally spoil Rusty as she did with Rose. Her parents helped in that matter with her due to the same sentiments.
Rusty laps up the protein milk her dad bought in bulk. And the results speak for themselves. The rust colored foal with his newly forming red mane, has grown from being a small malnourished foal to a weaning fluffy that is more stocky than fat. She could feel the slight firmness under his fluff after all the physical activities he had playing with him.
“Awianna?” Rusty speaks, which Arianna had him refer to her by name, “Wen Wusty get sketties?”
Hoo boy, THAT question. It all depends on her and his answer.
Arianna replies. “Well… when you do good things. Ever heard of karma?”
“Kawma?” Rusty asks.
“As the old saying goes; ‘When you do good things, good things happen to you’.” She answers. “But when you BAD things, bad things happen to you. Though… you don’t know what’s good or bad anyway… huh…”
“Wike… nu sowwy poopsies ow do meanie owies nd sei meanie wowds?” Rusty replies. “If Wusty do nu bad fings, then Wusty ged sketties?”
“Not ALWAYS sketties mind you.” Chuckles Arianna, “But good things.”
“Dat wai Wusty hab wawm housies nd miwkies?” He asks. “Cawse Wusty nu do bad fings?”
“Mostly because your mom did bad things…” Arianna looks down solemnly. “Even for a fluffy, no one should go through that.”
“Bu… Awianna is mummah.” Says Rusty.
The adolescent girl kinda expected that she might have imprinted on him since she was the first living thing he saw. It would make the parting the more painful for the both of them.
But as he grown over the few weeks, the family has grown to like the little fella. Well behaved, more so than their old pet. By the time he was fully grown, they pretty much let go of the idea of sending him to a shelter and adopted him. He was already integrated with the family so why not.
However, while Rusty was happy and cheerful in childhood, as an adult he is more… jaded. He still hadn’t misbehaved once, his habitual conditioning had worked its magic for sure, but just passive and placid. Like he was always bored. Waiting for something new to happen.
One school day, when Arianna went off to school, her father went off for work, and her mother went to get groceries, Rusty is the only one in the house in the moment. At least he learned how to work the tablet to watch some stuff to pass the time. Laying on the couch, going on the YouTube, watching streams of these the humans call “VTubers”. He sorta fell into THAT rabbit hole on one of those lazy days actually.
Until something came through his fluffy door on the backdoor. He never thought to USE it, but it was there in case he wants to have a roll around in the backyard.
“Finawwy! A nyu housies fo Smawty nd hewd!” Exclaims a red fluffy, a unicorn in fact.
“Uh… hewwo?” Rusty turns around to see the Smarty invading his home as a few fluffies follow in. “Dis am Wusty nd famiwy’s housies. Ou nu come in hewe.”
“Nu cawe!” Huffs the Smarty. “Smawty desewves housie, nu Poopie Fwuffy!”
Rusty seems confused as he stands. “Who Poopie Fwuffy?”
The Smarty snorts in laughter, “Dummeh Poopie Fwuffy! OU Poopie Fwuffy.”
The name. It rings him the wrong way for some reason. “…Poopie Fwuffy nu am namesies. Namesies am Wusty.”
“Poopie Fwuffy geds nu namesies!” The Smawty scoffs. “Poopie Fwuffy am Poopie Fwuffy!”
“Yea! Poopie Fwuffy onwy fo num poopies!” Said one of the Smarty’s followers.
“Dis is Smawty nd hewd’s wand now!” Adds another.
“Num poopsies ow ged fowevah sweepies.” Sneers the Smarty. “Our chowice.”
“Su ‘Smawty’ am seing…” Replies Rusty, “Ou wan to do bad fings? Ou… a bad fwuffy?”
“Bad fwuffy?” This annoys the Smarty. “Dummeh Poopie Fwuffy take back! Nu am bad fwuffy! Am Gud Fwuffy! Am BESTEST Fwuffy! AM BESTEST SMAWTY!”
Rusty could see this Smarty puffing himself up, trying to intimate him. But… Rusty is feeling something else. Something rising, something hot. Because… “…caww Wusty Poopie Fwuffy again…”
“OW WAT!?” Shouts Smarty. “OU A POOPIE FWUFFY CAWSE OU A POOPIE! A DUMMEH POOPIE AT DAT!”
The rest of the herd follows.
“DUMMEH POOPIE FWUFFY!”
“NU DESEWVES GUD HOUSIES!”
“ONWY FO NUMMING POOPIES!”
That was it. What Rusty is feeling…
Is rage.
“Am nu Poopie Fwuffy…” Growls Rusty, approacing the edge of the cushions.
They pressed the Poopie Fluffy button.
“Am… WUSTY!!!”
They shouldn’t have done that.
He leaps towards the Smarty, if Smarty is even HALF as smart as he proclaims himself to be, he would have dodged. And dodge he didn’t as Rusty lands his hooves into his face caving his skull on impact, splattering Rusty’s own face is blood and bits of grey matter.
The other fluffies were horrified. Their Smarty, was killed by a POOPIE FLUFFY? That fear was replaced for opportunity for the toughies. If they kill the Poopie Fluffy, then THEY will become the new Smarty. And get the new housies to boot! Genius!
Or so they thought.
Rusty looks at one of the approaching fluffies with crimson red hatefilled eyes, as he swings one of his front hooves into the toughie. Connecting with his eye, crushing it.
“SKREEE!!! SEEING PAWCE WOWSTEST HUWTIES!” The toughie stumbles back and tumbles, clutching his smashed eye as blood and a jelly-like substance leaked out of his socket.
One of the fluffies from behind lifts his front hooves upwards, ready to give Rusty the worstest stompies. But Rusty lifts his hind legs to buck him right in the abdomen. Knocking him back against another.
“OWWIES!”
However, a bigger fluffy manages to connect a strike across Rusty’s face. Bleeding but unflinching, he then bites down as hard as he could on the fluffy’s front leg. He was more furious and full of adrenaline than feeling the pain. And… he is starting to ENJOY said adrenaline and its rush.
He leaps forward to push that big fluffy oaf to the ground and starts to stomp on his face, teeth still gripping on his front leg. As the big fluffy tries to fling him off, he slams Rusty to the ground on his back. But he refuses to let go as he plants his back hooves onto his side. Pushing himself away with force to tear off the toughie’s front leg.
“SKREEE- WEGGIE!!!” The tougie flails around, bleeding out of his stump.
Rusty spits the leg out as he limply goes up to the downed fluffy. “Nu… am Poopie Fwuffy…” He raises a hoof, and drives into his face again. “Ou… nu WISTEN!” And again. “Ou!” And again. “AM!” And again. “A BAD!” And again. “FWUFFY!” And again. “ND BAD FWUFFIES!” And again. “GED BAD!” And again. “FINGS!”
One last stomp, and the toughie’s face was turned to paste.
He then turns to any fluffy watching, with a wild grin.
“Whose next.”
“M-munstah…” The injured yet surving now one eyed fluffy said.
“MUNSTAH!!!” The remainder of the herd ran out the fluffy door, shitting themselves as they went.
“Jus as… Wusty… thought…” Pants Rusty as he drops, the injuries and fatigue finally getting to him once the red mist fades.
…
“…Rusty…?” Said a voice. A familiar voice. “RUSTY!”
Rusty wakes up, and looks around. He find himself on a table. Surrounded by his family and a doctor.
Arianna lets out a gasp of relief. “Rusty, you’re ok!”
“Wha… happen…” The rust colored fluffy wheezes.
“Fractured bones, external AND internal bleeding…” Said the vet. “It’s amazing you are even alive. And was that you said, Mrs Makenvale? That he was found laying surrounded by dead feral fluffies?”
“I thought he was beaten up by them if it wasn’t for the dead ferals…” Confirms the mother. “It’s like… he fought them off. But by himself?”
“Judging by the medical records from his checkups, his muscle and bone density is higher than the average. Not very high, but still.” The vet looks through the file. “That could be a factor.”
Rusty doesn’t exactly understand all the medical jargon, but it certainly made mama and her parents happy. But…
“Wusty… do bad fing…” He whimpers. “Wusty gib oddah fwuffies fowevah sweepies…”
“No, you did a very good thing, Rusty.” Arianna caresses his head. “You tried to protect our home the best you could… and you did.”
“W…weawwy…?” He says.
“Yeah! You are a good fluffy, Rusty!” Arianna replies.
“When you get all healed up, how about we make you a bowl of sketties?” Says her mother.
Rusty weakly smiles, “Wusty wikes sketties.”
A good fluffy, he really likes to be called that. Much better then “poopie fluffy”. And he gets to have sketties too. Maybe he should protect the house more often. But not too soon though. He had enough excitement for a while.