Ted was an average guy. Worked an average job, not even in middle management. As an average guy he didn’t even want the responsibility of being a supervisor. Average looks, average smarts, average house. Average everything. He lived an average life - got up in the morning, went to work all day, came home and relaxed. He’d see friends on the weekends, do all that social stuff then. All in all his life wasn’t in any way remarkable.
The one thing that made Ted happier than anything else was Brandy, his fluffy. She was a cream-colored pegasus with a very light brown mane; the breeder who’d sold her to him had insisted that the color was “vanilla cappuccino.” He loved her dearly. He spoiled her rotten but she wasn’t poorly behaved as a result. She got sketties more than she probably should have. She got expensive toys, got to watch FluffTV all the time, and got to play at the fluffy park three nights a week - and both days on the weekend! Brandy rarely talked back to him or demanded anything, partly because she knew she was going to get what she wanted without even having to ask. It’s not that she was greedy; she was just used to being spoiled, and that’s how life was.
Ted loved Brandy dearly, but he didn’t want babies around. No babies. That was his one big rule, besides not shitting outside the litterbox - no babies. He didn’t have her fixed because he didn’t want to put her through the trauma - he’d had a fluffy mare before her, and the trauma of getting fixed had sent her into a depression that culminated in a “wan die” loop. He couldn’t do that to Brandy. Besides, he knew that maybe one day he’d change his mind and decide to let her have babies. So why not avoid the pain and heartache of getting her fixed? Whenever they were at the fluffy park he kept a very close eye on her and made sure she didn’t get any special huggies.
Things were great until one Saturday when Ted, frustrated and going through a dry spell, managed to get distracted by a hot MILFy redhead who suddenly wanted to chat him up. Brandy wandered off, eager to have freedom away from her daddy’s watchful eye. Half an hour Ted had the redhead’s number - Susan! - but realized that Brandy was gone. He freaked out and started yelling for her, scrambling to find his lost, beloved fluffy. She hadn’t wandered too far. Ted found her in some nearby bushes, peeping and yelping as a green feral stallion slammed her some ol’ fluffy dick. Ted yelled at them and tried to get them apart, but it was too late - the stallion shouted “GUUUUD FEEEEEEEWS!” and it was over. Brandy was full of stallion spunk.
“Bwandy am sowwy, daddeh,” she cried on the way home. “Bwandy jus wan babbehs su baddies. Wan be mummah an gif huggies and wuv an bestest miwkies tu bestest babbehs.”
“Brandy, I told you that you couldn’t have babies. That was pretty much the only rule.”
“Bwandy knu. Bwandy sowwy.” She started sobbing uncontrollably, the tears rolling down her fluff and spilling on the fabric of the car seat. “Pwease, daddeh, nu huwt dem babbehs. Nu gif babbehs fowevah sweepies! PWEASE DADDEH! BWANDY WIWW BE BESTEST MUMMAH! PWEASE! HUUUUU HUUUUU HUUUUUUUUUU!”
His precious fluffy was inconsolable and was terrified that he was going to kill her babies. Once they got home they had a very long talk and set a bunch of ground rules. Ted agreed to let her have her babies, but she had to promise that she’d love all of them equally and not designate a bestest baby. Once they were grown he’d let a couple of them live there forever, but the rest would have to be adopted out. Brandy wasn’t happy that she’d have to give up some of her precious babies, but she agreed to the terms.
Ted did a lot of research and learned about the miracles of fluffy birth. They watched a lot of FluffTV together. Lots of shows like Babies, which taught important lessons for soon-mummahs. Lessons like how to love all their foals, how to rotate the babies around on their teats so each baby got plenty of milkies, and tolerance, tolerance, tolerance. Ted bought a lot of new stuff, too. Some formula and foal bottles, just in case. A birthing mat. A new bed that doubled as a litterbox so that Brandy wouldn’t make bad poopies when she got too fat to walk. Some mats to put on the floor so that the foals wouldn’t shit on the carpet while they were still too young to make good poopies.
It turned out to be really good bonding for the two of them. Brandy got a better idea of just how lucky she was, how spoiled she was, and how much effort her daddy made to make sure she was always happy. Ted learned just what it meant to a fluffy to be a soon-mummah, just how important it was to them. He learned everything she was going through, and everything she’d be going through. It was a stressful time for her despite how happy she was. She was getting too fat to move. Her body was changing. The babies were kicking her constantly, which hurt. But to her, it was all worth it. And to Ted, it was all worth it to make Brandy happy.
Finally, it was time.
“BIGGEST POOPIES!” Brandy shouted. Ted was there in just a few moments, sliding her out of her bed and on to the birthing mat. Seconds later her water broke and fluid rushed out, channeled away from her heaving body by the mat. “DADDEH! BABBEHS AM COMIN!”
“You’re okay, sweetie,” he assured her. “Daddy’s here. Push, sweetie. You can do this.”
Babies started sliding out of her special place. The first one was a dark green earthie. Then, a brown earthie. A brown unicorn. A light green pegasus. Finally, a brown pegasus. Some were female, some male. But every single one of them was a color that was generally considered to be bad. Every single one of them were colors that fluffy mothers usually rejected as being poopie babbehs. Not a single bright color in the bunch. Just a whole lot of peeping, chirping, hungry little poopie babbehs.
Brandy was clearly disappointed. “Dese am aww da babbehs?” she asked, dejectedly.
“That’s all the babies, girl.”
“Aww dem am…aww dem am poopie babbehs.”
“Now, you know what we talked about. All babies are good babies.”
“Bwandy knu, daddeh.” She cleaned another foal halfheartedly, slowly, and placed it at a free teat. “Aww babbehs am gud babbehs. Buh aww dem am nu pwetty.”
“I think they’re beautiful.” Which was a lie, but it was what she needed to hear. All of them were dull colors.
“Weawwy?” she asked, looking up from cleaning one of the brown foals.
“Of course! They’re your babies. Of COURSE they’re beautiful.”
“Dat…dat am twue,” she said, thinking it over. “Bwandy am su pwetties. Bwandy babbehs haf tu be su pwetties, tuu, cause dem am Bwandy babbehs.”
“That’s right. They’re beautiful and special and they’ll grow up to be beautiful fluffies!”
“Dat am gud!” she said, smiling. “Bwandy wuv babbehs! Hewwo, pwetty babbehs!” She cleaned all of them, hugged them in turn, and made sure all of them got plenty of milkies.
Ted spent the rest of the day in the safe room, doting on the foals and reassuring Brandy that they were perfect and that she’d be a good mother. He petted her soft fluff, brought her a big bowl of sketties, and made sure to constantly talk about how perfect the foals were. By the end of the night Brandy seemed excited to have a bunch of poopie babbehs. She curled around them and made sure they were in a little fluffpile against her tummy, then grinned sleepily up at Ted.
“Fank yu fo wet Bwandy haf babbehs, daddeh. Daddeh am bestest daddeh evah.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. You’re the best fluffy, ever. Get plenty of sleep. Babies are exhausting.”
“Yus, daddeh. Gudnite. Wuvoo!”
“I love you too.”
Ted turned out the light and went to bed; the fluffies snuggled peacefully in the glow of a moon-shaped night light. As he fell asleep, he wondered what the foals would be like when they got older. What their personalities would be like. Whether he’d be able to find people to adopt some of them. He figured he’d be able to. Some people, after all, didn’t want fluffies with bright colors. They preferred more natural earth tones. They’d be fine. They’d find great homes.
He never had a chance to find out. There was a gas leak in the middle of the night, and Ted’s carbon monoxide detector was cheap as hell and didn’t work. All of them died peacefully in their sleep at the hands of the silent killer. The cops found them all the next morning after Ted didn’t show up for work and his boss called them, concerned. They shut down the entire street, found that the leak was only in Ted’s house, and everyone said how lucky it was that no one else died. No, the only casualties were Ted, Brandy, and a bunch of just-born fluffy foals.
Susan assumed that Ted was a dick because he didn’t call. She met a pretty great guy at a bar a couple of weeks later. They dated for a while.
The green feral stallion died of dysentery a month later.
You never know when a story is going to end, even if it’s just getting started. Shit happens, I guess.
