Simple Creatures - Chapter 5 (By Thk)

Andre was having one of the better fucking days of his life. Though at the moment he felt like he was wasting an opportunity.

Sam had hightailed it out once he was clean to pick up supplies for an injured pregnant Fluffy Mare, a Stallion, a nonpregnant Mare, and a fuckton of babies. Plus one more Mare, blue like the pregnant one but brighter, that he’d set inside a few moments after his footsteps left the porch the first time. Seemed like a waste of a trip to not go with a shopping list, but Sam was still on adrenaline from it all and he hadn’t wanted to push the issue. Plus, vulnerable Fluffies to fuck with. Though once he heard Sam’s car speed out he was at a loss as to what to actually do. He wasn’t about to fuck with babies, and the one mother that carried almost all of them there was doing a good job keeping them quiet, though he looked forward to having some time with her given she had clearly stolen a fuckton of worthless colors. Browns were so mistreated by other Fluffies that it wasn’t fun messing with them, already living lives basically at the point of absolute surrender to death. But those who fucked with browns were the mighty to lay low, so convinced of their own cuteness and worth that putting them on each other’s level was ideal. The Smarty being in there with them was a terrible idea, but it was Sam’s choice. It would just make the eventual breaking of him all the more enjoyable if he raped, killed, or ate any.

No matter what though they had to stay in Sam’s room. The order had been to stay with the hurt Mare and give her comfort, and she was so touch and go that fetching the others and possibly chasing them down could leave her dying on him. She was on her side panting, hooves twitching every so often. She opened her eyes with a flutter and gasped every once in a while but they were always blankly unseeing and closed soon after.

All that left Andre with was the newcomer. The tiny blue Mare had been skirting the edges of the room, hiding under things and glancing between Andre and the other Mare who’s name he had already forgotten. Pershing or something.

He had an idea to get two Fluffs with one stone, so he gave the recuperating Mare some space and pretended not to look at her while fiddling around on his phone. It was top of the line, basically a button emitting a holographic display through which he could see the two Mares and look preoccupied. Slowly the small one ventured forth and sniffed the hurt one. She reared on her back legs and shook her to wake her darker, bigger twin up but gave up quickly and after shooting Andre a worried look she snuggled into a hug next to her. A few minutes later and there was soft snoring.

Andre leapt up to quickly enact his plan. Speakers were removed from the computer, synced to his phone, and placed around them. He retrieved some cotton balls from the bathroom around the corner and gently packed them into the surgery patient’s ears.

He sifted through Touyube videos before settling on one. His finger hovered above the ethereal play button as he leered over the sleeping forms, bottom lip bit down on by his top teeth in a wicked grin of anticipation. He’d been so bored these last few weeks, and these Fluffies were an oasis in the desert.

Three months ago he’d been denied for the military, specifically the Navy, due to his past criminal record and health concerns. Generally some minor offenses as a teen and flat feet weren’t enough to preclude service, but ever since the war in Australia started winding down they weren’t hurting for fresh blood, and he knew better than to be desperate about it. He didn’t want to end up some Space Force guard on the sky bridge construction, or in a sub.

Staying home wasn’t an option. It wasn’t really before, it sure as hell wasn’t now. He had enough constant reminders of his fuckups and everything wrong from body to mind just trying to sleep or look in a mirror.

Luckily he’d heard from Tabitha about her brother’s inheritance after bumping into her in a the fabric store he’d been working at and trying to flirt with the oblivious Lab Brat. After a brief phone call filled with some browbeating and guilt-laden callbacks to their shared childhood, Andre suddenly had a whole new future though he still had to figure out a source of income. It took three attempts to find the main road leading up to the hilly mountain pass settlements, after a three hour drive no less to reach the right county. It took him hours more to realize the place wasn’t in the city, rather it was on the outskirts of the small town ten minutes away. Once he knew where he was going it was simple enough, since the town was situated around a river and the same train tracks from the city, both leading down from the mountains. Never before had Andre seen such a long stretch of near nothing in a place that wasn’t topographically flat, the occasional house or restaurant and gas station as well as the ever-present power lines and sporadically present street lights breaking up the wilderness. Never before had he seen so many places that looked nothing alike, and yet somehow exactly the same; the top of a house and the warm glow of non-LED lights visible from the road despite fences and small forests between. He’d only seen three cars this way, all going the other direction, back to the city. Were it not for the distinctly rural look of old and maintained buildings (and more lowbrow elements like lawnchairs or busted furniture left by trash cans and mailboxes along the road), the kind he’d only seen on postcards and in old movies, he’d have assumed he was in some secret superwealthy community. Finding good work would be an absolute pain in the ass, and the drive was long enough that getting supplies and tail would require planning rather than quick trips around the block unless he was in the mood for fresh eggs and grannies.

Still, he had the saved cash and goodwill to float by on Sam’s good fortune for a while, and could probably stretch both by doing some grunt work on the place. Sam wasn’t the pathetically fat and emotional little target he was when they first met in gradeschool, but Andre doubted he was a zealot of the handyman cult these days.

There had been a bunch of multicolored puffballs ahead as he wound his way through the old roads, and he let himself skid to a halt. The little bastards had either darted to the sides or froze and stared, the latter being mostly the fat females with smaller puffballs on their backs. He put the car in park and leaned back to rub his eyes, waiting for the Fluffies to pass. After about thirty seconds he checked the rearview to make sure nobody was behind him then glanced ahead. The little fuckers not only were still in the road, but the males and childless females had actually gathered in the middle to converse with the mothers. He shook his head, not in disbelief, but casual frustration. He knew Fluffies were dumb, he loved that fact since they made for good stress relief. But the reminders never failed to impress. Andre rolled down the window and shouted at them to clear off. A few began to move back to the sides, seemingly confused which way to go, but one of the bigger males stomped up to the car door. He couldn’t hear what the little bastard was saying, but had heard enough Smarties to get the gist. Andre smiled, looked into the mirror at his sweaty face and slightly bloodshot eyes, and figured he needed a break after this model railroad and cottagecore hell.

He quickly got out of the car and snatched the little bastard up before he could turn around. One hand was around the Smarty’s scruff, the other lifting its lower back slightly as he pointed him towards the herd.

“What’s that Smarty? You’re not feeling well?”

“Wha-? Nu! Am feewin fine, bu’ angy! Dummeh hoo-“

“Sorry to hear that little guy! What exactly is the problem?”

“Dummeh hoomin nu wisten to Smaw-“


Andre set the place on the Smarty’s back he’d been holding onto his knee, then with the freed hand he pressed on the Smarty’s lower abdomen until he felt the lump in the hindgut where their weaponized shit was stored. He immediately pressed on it.


He didn’t aim directly at any Fluffies, though some of the splatter droplets did hit on the Toughies who had advanced to protect their leader. This time the mothers were the smart ones, darting to the correct side of the road to keep their young clean. Once the bowels of the Smarty were voided Andre walked over to that same side of the road and lightly rolled him into the ditch. He sobbed “Why take Sowwy Poopies? Why woww Smawty? Nu am baww, am bestest Fwuffy an onwy du gud fow hewd.”

He failed to notice Andre had undone his pants in the front. The Smarty stopped mid-rant as it felt the splattering and smelled the acrid stench of caffeine piss that had been held for too long. Andre had intended to piss directly on him, but pity and lack of motivation had given him the mercy to instead water the ground next to him. “See tiny baby Fluffy? This is how you make good potty.” It covered its face in its hooves, but didn’t move as Andre felt the tingly relief (and dull ache) of his finally relaxed bladder come. He shook off, zipped up, then looked back at the road at the Fluffies who remained staring. He pointed at the Smarty, who had gotten to his feet and puffed out his cheeks. “Get out of the road, go to your Smarty. I’m gonna charge on ahead once I’m in the car, and any Fluffies left in the road will be dead. Got it?” A few shuffled over but three gave him blank stares. Back in the car he looked for hand sanitizer, then gave up and figured Sam was the prissy type to wash his hands after shaking someone’s anyway. The three Fluffies were still staring at him from the road so he jammed on the horn. They were sent scattering to both sides, brown trails behind, and Andre punched the accelerator to speed past them then immediately started to slow down again in case of bored cops.

Sam’s new place was at the end of civilization, a forest to the east and a bunch of abandoned homes in the same architectural family tree to the west. North the river, south some fields that had been cleared and paved but nothing was ever built on them, allowing nature to set about reclaiming it in the decade or more of inactivity.

In the last hours of red twilight he could see the upper floor of the blue-grey and white house, but no lights. The path was dirt and gravel where it turned from the worn paved road to the yard, trees providing a natural barrier that rendered the old and rotten ranch fence useless. The old metal gate, on which a faded sign warning that trespassers would be shot, was swung open so Andre pressed on. The yard beyond the treeline was overgrown in wild grass, though the 20 or so apple and other odd trees lined up and bearing the green start of fruit showed that it had been an orchard, and the small gravel parking lot in front of the house suggested they’d done good business back in the day. The picket fences dividing the yard from the neighbors were stripped of paint by the elements, but in working condition, a ranch fence out front dividing front and back yards from each other. The backyard wasn’t visible but he imagined it was more of the same.

Inside he found Sam shuffling boxes around, having decided to clear out the old people shit from one of the guest rooms off to the side of the entrance hall. Since then the two had a quiet existence, watching another pandemic start. Sam was gone for a large chunk of each day during the work ferrying around shit between laboratories and public works while Andre puttered about, pretending to be useful and stopping any task he began before succeeding at the broader goal. All in all a boring existence until now.

The pregnant blue Fluffy had kept her eyes closed for a while now but was breathing steadily through her mouth, cotton making her deaf to the world. The smaller one was nuzzled under her front leg with her face buried in her chest. Andre had placed a paper towel wad with a plastic bag beneath it directly under her tail to collect the inevitable. Andre, sitting comfortably in the recliner like a king, pressed play on his phone.

The ASMR video began to play. Distant wind, coming closer. The small Mare stirred. Distant thunder. She tried to get closer to her larger twin while the paper napkin under her lower body soaked in urine. Nearby rain, brown was faintly visible through the paper where it was thin. The tiny Mare whimpered. The rain all around, tiny Mare shivered and tried to hide herself in her partner’s fluff, murmuring. Andre wished he had a drink to sip while savoring the anticipation.

Loud and booming crack of thunder.

Small Mare went ballistic. She woke up and pitched a screaming fit.

She went zooming through the house, the injured one having been kicked repeatedly as the small one struggled to right herself.

The sight was worth the cleanup as she trailed (thankfully only droplets of) waste throughout the house. Once he was finished he checked up on the patient. She was fine, and he figured she would be. She’d gotten the hug time to kickstart her healing response, and based on how much Sam struggled to get the needle through her hide she was a hardy breed. Still, he felt a bit guilty so he moved her to the couch and let her hook her legs around his hand while he flipped though streaming options on TV with the other. Once a documentary on pirate gold was playing he looked at her closely. She had a chubby belly, but she had some serious muscle on her legs. Her muzzle was a bit rounded and her jaw was convex, giving her what for a Fluffy must be resting bitch face but to human eyes appeared less cute and more “cool”. Most breeds of Fluffies don’t have a neck so much as the implication there’s a connection between face and body somewhere, but she had a visible one though it was certainly thick. As he gently lifted one of her legs he saw what he initially believed to be true hooves in pink before realizing she simply had extremely thick callouses. This Fluffy wasn’t some decorative porcelain teacup, she was a fucking steel bucket with porcelain skull-shaped dents in it.

There was so many things he could do with the little creature right now, but she was pregnant and hurt. In either case messing with her was across the line and would be for weeks if not more. Still, Andre felt like a kid who spied an action figure playset in his parents closet a month before Diwali.

Andre wasn’t an Abuser, he was a troll. Something that broke wasn’t fun anymore. Something that only ever hurt wasn’t fun anymore.

He’d learned both quite a long while ago.

The lives of most kids start to go to hell in Middle School, but at their school it started in late Elementary. When the kids start sizing each other up as predators and prey without realizing it Andre was sorted into the latter category as the rich boy fourth generation Indian kid without a clique to quickly make friends in. So he dogpiled on the other bullied kids and wound up becoming one of the troublemakers. Sam was fat, all his clothing seemed to have his pop culture interests on it or random things like dinosaurs, and when substitute teachers put on cartoons he’d be the only one paying such invested attention to cry at the sad parts. So of course Andre focused on making his life a waking hell at every opportunity. Pinning the blame for things the troublemakers did on him, stealing his things and pitching them in the garbage when he wasn’t looking, bumping him any time he wrote or drew, and of course namecalling.

To be fair, Andre was not the only one who bullied Sam, in fact it was the exact opposite. Andre was sure there was kids who just ignored him, but for the life of him he could only recall kids who gave him shit and made his life miserable. Even kids Andre didn’t know, like the Lab Brats that knew him because of his sisters, would target him most of all among all the other D-grade (“developmental” as in needing old school education as opposed to the C “challenger” and A “advanced” types of learning that the faster minds learned better at) kids for mockery. The general population tended to be alienated by the rest of the children, who inherited their parents biases against the “unnatural” and “unfairly advantaged” very early, tied directly to when folks get serious on the kids about tests and sports, so they often banded together as a clique and were eager for an acceptable target among the rank and file natural kids. It always seemed strange to Andre that they shoved kids who were modified for hundreds of thousands of dollars to be smarter with kids who still couldn’t read or tell time by the age of 14, but he reasoned there wasn’t the same vanity in letting them compete amongst themselves to the parents.

Andre got a wake-up call when after one particularly bad day the tipping point came. Sam had a hat, he couldn’t really remember what was special about it anymore, but he’d yanked it off his head as they passed each other in gym class when Sam’s group was doing laps and Andre’s headed to the tennis court, leaving it in a trash can by the library. During the time between then and Sam going through the garbage cans between classes it had been covered in a substantial amount of uneaten chili from lunch, chunky acrylic paint mixed into that dirty brown when kids think every color combined would be prettier than the individual ones, and a bit of leaking glue from some kind of popsicle stick mistake in an art class. During a demonstration of how plant cells work in science class he’d been asked to step into the hall by a teacher he didn’t recognize. Immediately he assumed he was in trouble, and felt amused relief to hear that Sam had locked himself in a bathroom stall after breaking down and crying during math class. The teacher assumed they were friends, asking him to try and get Sam to go to see the principle while she returned to class (standardized state testing necessitating every second of cram time). The amusement faded when he heard the sobbing from the hall outside. They had a long conversation inside, initially the airing of grievances against Andre specifically from the safe feeling the small stall and lock provided, though it expanded to a mutual sharing of frustrations. Both boys realized the situation that normally ten years of looking back on shitty behavior can provide.

Andre asked his mother to replace Sam’s hat that night, explaining the entire situation without leaving anything out; he was punished by having allowance docked for the hat value, though he was quietly rewarded for the lesson learned with an extra turn, surrendered by his father, picking the movie the family watched on odd numbered days. Sam and Andre talked for a while about movies the next day when the new hat was given, and hung out at the mall when they happened to meet during their respective obligatory family weekend shopping trips. The summer, and every one since, was spent playing video games and eating junk food.

Sam was still bullied, a bit less afterwards for fear of him going to pieces and snitching, and Andre remained one of the troublemaker kids. But now he knew there were rules. There was a breaking point. There was plenty of times he considered crossing the line early on, but he always saw someone else cross it first. Andre and his friends laughed about wrecking the school computers to avoid taking tests, but when an emergency firehose was used to flood the computer room his best friend at the time was taken out of school. When the kids joked about crucifying a Fluffy and leaving it on the desk of the religious hugboxy teacher before Easter break there was a substitute teacher for a while afterwards and his reliable video game Player 2 had to move to a place that he could finish school at. After a riot during summer vacation the group joker gave the friends group a bunch of cool stuff like a guitar and amp. Only a week later the police came to collect the gifts and search their rooms for more, which is how the clique lost its comedian. The last time be saw his first girlfriend was after she confessed that the reason they had test week off from school was a fake note being left in the school library listing random names a fake school shooter would go after.

By high school Sam was his only friend left and the line of misbehavior when shit got real may as well have been programmed into him like a Fluffy and water (though he had never heard of a Fluffy thrilling in the sight of a pool or imagining a waterfall).

Not that Andre was completely innocent. He’d found porno mags in the forest, photocopied them and sold the pages to other kids. He learned to assemble a working cigarette out of used butts and sold those too. Both cases got him talking to a police officer. He’d had to do a stint of janitor work after sticking his bare asshole on a water fountain spigot after school, which is how he’d discovered the school had cameras.

He’d never stopped teasing others either, including Sam. Though it was with an understanding it was just him being himself. He’d taken to small acts of aggression in life as well like leaving gum on buttons and door handles, spitting from higher floors of buildings on people on the street, leaving penises on chalk drawings (and just about everywhere else), having long joke conversations in racist accents with phone advertisers, screaming mockery at protestors and sign wavers (“Jesus loved men, cancel Jesus!” at the anti-gay nutcases was his favorite), cellophane on toilet seats at restaurants where the service was bad, ketchup packets twisted tight and left under the back of car wheels belonging to assholes, cups of mayonnaise hidden in places that are rarely seen while at douchebag parties, and of course fucking with Fluffies. He’d seen his friends brutalize them enough to know how fragile they could be, so he had to be clever to get his jollies. Anger and comedy went well together though, and that always bore itself out quite well. He kept a pocketful of brown and puke green ribbons as well as glue during walks through the park, attaching them to the “Bestest Babbeh” of proud mothers who thought they could buy a home by showing it off. He took pleasure watching the confusion and frustration of a thing that could both be pretty and ugly at the same time boggling their minds as baby and mother both argued whether to keep or discard the bow, followed by the pain when the fluff it was attached to was pulled out, then the angst over the Bestest being a bit less Best where they had a bald patch. Smarties and Toughies got tree resin on their hooves, something they hated the feeling of since the clumps of dirt and grass stuck to it until they gave up trying to scrape it off and sucked the horribly bitter stuff off their hoof along with whatever they walked; on the return trip if he saw them doing it early he’d mock them for being a hoofsucker and encouraging other Fluffies to join in laughing.

When he had time he liked confusing them like Star Trek robots, that they were being a bad Fluffy because they were such a good Fluffy and thus there was no such thing as good or bad, or that the entire world was one giant house and there was always a smaller house inside the others ones then laughing as it screamed while trying to comprehend infinity. The best was when he convinced a domestic Fluffy that had gotten off his leash that sleep was just temporary death and dreams were the other life they lived. After returning him Andre immediately turned and jogged away, though he heard a “Mummah, guess wha Cuttew weawned!” as he left.

In the present, on the couch, he’d shut off the documentary. Too much diving, not enough cool stuff to look at. He switched it over to Touyube and signed into his account then hit a recommended video where a Fluffy had its food swapped for a plastic squeaky toy when it wasn’t looking. Andre loved these kinds of videos, Fluffies were so easy to tease and their reactions were perfect. Like the dumbest people on the reality shows but without the suspicion it was all just scripted. The only issue is when the hot sauce got swapped out for rat poison, or suddenly the tip of a drill bit poking up through the top of the Fluffy’s back revealed the tears weren’t just from a scary noise. That shit wasn’t funny, in fact it wrecked all the humor that came right before it. Comedy had rules just like his line; catharsis, incongruity, exaggeration. After all, the payoff from a good prank was embarrassment and anger. True and justified fear and pain killed comedy faster than explanation.

“Why Fwuffy nu wike squeaky?”

Andre quickly looked down. Sitting like a cat next to his foot was the other Fluffy, having clearly overcome its past fear.

“What did you say?”

She stood up and stepped back, leaving a hoof in the air so she could keep backing up if she needed to.

“Wh-why Fwuffy in da box nu wike squeaky? Wan squeaky. Nu hab toysies since Mummah took Spwitz fwom hoomin Daddeh.”

“Is that your name? Spritz?”

The Fluffy’s eyes widened and she gave a full- mouth open smile. He could have sworn they sparkled.

“YUS Spwitz am Spwitz’s namesie!! Mummah caww Spwitz ‘Viowet Two’ buh Daddeh Fwed caww Spwitz wike his favowite sweetie dwink! With Spwitz achiebe da impossibwe! Spwitz contain caffeine! Dat am coffee stuff, wook wike poopie wawa but am yummy! Yu hab coffee and Spwitz befowe?! Gud stuff!”

‘Spritz, party of one.’ he thought. He tuned out her babbling while he checked on the downed Mare again. Sleeping soundly, looked a bit better and was breathing through her nose. It looked like she was dreaming as her mouth moved slightly and a foot twitched. After a minute more of babbling while Andre watched an update on the new plague (folks in Texas intentionally exposing themselves to it, in Florida getting tattoos of bats because a shop spread the rumor that it prevents disease) the door crashed open and Sam dropped two armfuls of bags on the side then went back outside.

Spritz shrieked at the sudden sound and zipped under the couch. Andre called ”Need help? No? Okay.” since he knew Sam couldn’t hear it. Two more struggles inside and he collapsed to his knees panting.

“Help…would have been…nice…asshole!”

“I asked, you didn’t say anything so I assumed you got it.”

“I didn’t…hear you!”


Sam started sorting things out of bags, then walked to the couch.

“How’s she doing?” he asked quietly.

“Punchbowl? She’s fine. Dreaming, probably about laying her eggs in your ear while you’re asleep tonight.”

“Prussian.” Sam looked at her closely, gently turning her to see her stitches. “Has she had to go yet?”

“No, but the other one did. Made me a little trail to clean up around the house.”

“You cleaned something? Must have been bad.”

“Hey, I just want to help you in your decision to become a farmer. Plus, little fucker is kinda sweet.”

“You talked to her? I’m surprised, I had to drag her out from under the porch screaming. She blasted everything down there in piss while I did.”

“She’s scared, but curious. Sweet and hyper, like a triple shot espresso made love to a cup of Cuban and then the kid banged a can of Spritz. Which is her name by the way.”

From underneath him came “Spwitz am hab fifty gwams suguw, gib diabeetus if nu cawefuw!”

Both humans laughed at that, and Spritz poked her head out with a smile on her face.

“She might belong to someone though.”

“You think we should take her to get scanned for a chip at the shelter?”

“Spwitz wike chipsies!!”

“Naw, fuck them. I want her. We just need to come up with a cover story if the cops come for her. How about Purchase here popped her out while we were operating and she grew like one of those dinosaur sponges when we put her in water?”

“WAWA BAD!” Spritz screamed as she disappeared under the couch again. This time it was only Andre who laughed.

“Speaking of me being a farmer, check this out.”

Sam laid a pamphlet with what looked like a photorealistic cartoon cow on the front down on the table in front of Andre then went back to the stuff he bought.

“Emotional Support Fluffy…Cow Fluffs?” A closer insoection of the front image revealed it to be a Fluffy with cow-patterned fluff and two horns, looking up at the photographer with grass hanging out both sides of her mouth mid-chew and a little smile. He glanced at the inside. It was indeed Fluffies, all looking like cows. Based on recognizing the terms Angus and Brahman he guessed they were all named after breeds.

“Yup! I saw that in the store tacked onto the wall and gave them a call. I’m going to drive there next weekend to pick one up. Its a Charolais, which she said is a big breed.”

“Well, its certainly an interesting idea. I dunno where Fluffies fall on the Krishna scale, but don’t tell my grandparents and I’m down.”

“Not for eating, dumbass. Milk! For the fuckton of Foals. It’ll be cheaper in the long run.”

“How much was it?”


“Two hundred fifty?”

“Yeah, its one of the expensive breeds I guess.”

Andre got out his phone and did some searching.

“Got some bad news there, bud.”

“Shit, how’s she doing?”

“About your cow.”


“First, Charolais cows are mostly for meat and labor. They can milk but its not their breeding. I’d assume Cowffies are the same.”

“Eh, that’s fine. As long as she can produce.”

“Second, she’s a Foal. That’s why she’s so cheap. So she’s going to cost you milk money, not reduce it.”


“Third, you need to get them knocked up.”

“No, I did do that much research. Stimulation will make them lactate.”

“Oh, good. You can wait for your little girl to grow up so you can start sucking her nips.”

“Shut up Andre.”

“Ooh, maybe she’ll be big enough that she can suck on you while you su-“

“Shut up Andre!”


He sat in silence with the recovering Mare for a while. She stirred more and more, while Andre got more and more restless. Touyube was only recommending shit today, and Spritz was still hiding. From the kitchen came the sound of the sink being turned on like Sam was washing something out.

Finally he walked into the living room carrying some devices that looked like a mad scientist got into PVC piping. “The fuck?”

Sam grinned and said “You’ll see. Go get-“ but was cut off by a weak moan and whimper from beside Andre. “Spesh…ul Fw…fien…d.”

Prussian had finally woken up. She squirmed slightly, trying to right herself and get her hooves under her before wincing and freezing from the pain in her abdomen. The humans watched as she tried to drag herself forward on her side but was so weak and the soft fabric of the couch gave no friction to her fluff. Sam stepped forward and leaned down to look at her.

“Relax, you’re fine. Let me just check yo see if you’re okay.” But his voice had the opposite effect, causing her to start a sideways worm dance as she squeezed her eyes shut from the pain and whined.

“Hey, calm down!” Sam put his hand on her upper body to hold her down while using his other to try and hold her legs still, which was oddly difficult for a Fluffy; she was more like a cat with no claws than the field mouse-tier strength of the average Fluffy. But she would not be denied, croaking “Spe…shul Fwiend…” as her legs finally scooted her forward by a half inch.

“Awmost went fowebah sweepies, need hew…hewp, howd an keep fwom faww fowebah sweepies. Need huggies speshul fwiend, ow nebah huggies ‘gain…”

Sam was using both hands to hold her legs still, Andre mutely petting her flank out of awkwardness. Both were in shock at hearing how quickly she’d shifted focus from herself and her needs to that of her mate.

“Wha if speshul fwiend nebah get huggies again? Wha if speshul fwiend go fowebah sweepies? Pwushun nee speshul fwiend, nee pwotect speshul fwiend.”

“Damn, how beta is your fucking hubby that he needs a pregger protector?”

“Shut up Andre. Prussian, its gonna be okay! Calm down, everything is fine!”

“Nuuu…nee speshul fwiend, sing ouw song an make feew bettah. Nee show speshul fwiend babbehs…show am mummah…”

She had mostly stopped her squirming but was still faintly kicking.

“H-hooman, pweaaase. Pwe…pwease…wet Pwushun see Speshul Fwiend…su scawed, nee huggies. See babbehs. Gib huggies. Feew bettah.”

“Andre, go get the Smarty. Where’d you put him anyway?”

“Speshul…spe-speshul Fwiend.”

“In your room dude.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” The sudden outburst sent Prussian kicking again.

“Nuuuuu. Pwease…nu huwt anymowe…”

“I dunno man, some of these rooms have expensive shit all over, your room is just bare floor mostly.”

“Its called ‘clean’, its what adults do.”

“Fine, I’ll help ‘clean’ your room later.”

“Just go get the Smarty. You didn’t put him in with the babies and mother, did you?”

“Sure did! Probably all cocksleeves by now!”

“Fucking hell Andre! That isn’t fucking funny.”

“Nu! Babbehs too widdle fow Enfies! Huwt suuu bad! Nu wan Fowebah Sweepies Babbehs! Wan Speshul Fwiend. Huwt su bad. Biggest ebah. Pwease hoomin. Su scawed. Fwuffies aw scawed. Pwease.”

Andre stood up and stretched.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re coming. Keep your fluff on.” As he left the living room for the side hall Spritz gingerly reappeared, pulling herself from under the back of the couch and glancing nervously around the room.

The way to Sam’s room was now getting dark as the low sun set on the other side of the house. He had left the light off to discourage escape attempts and grabbed the fruit bowl he’d carried the babies in from the floor. Of course the room was nearly pitch black inside, and upon turning on the light he was able to survey the scene while the miniherd blinked up at him in the sudden blast of LED above. No shit or piss visible. No blood. Just a pile of amazingly clean tiny babies in ugly colors, and two boring colored Fluffies hugging. Once their vision cleared they broke apart, the Smarty charging him and the Mare running to the babies.

“How’s it going, lovebirds? Have fun shitting everywhere? Making babies? Eating babies?”

The Mare looked up at him, a mix of terror and indignation on her face. “Nu am biwdies! Nu make bad poopies! Nu am Soon Mummah!” Then she squinted her eyes. “Nu ebah huwt Babbehs, dummeh!”

Andre smiled. That’s one insult to pay for. He turned to the Smarty hoping for more. “Aw, what’s wrong? Eat your fill of shit on the way here? Shooting blanks?” The Smarty didn’t break eye contact, and instead of replying he made a cute trilling noise. The bastard was trying to growl. Andre felt like considering it an insult, but it was kind of endearing.

Again, the Mare spoke. “Smawty nu make Sowwy Poopies, nu huwt Babbehs! Onwy Dummehs huwt Babbehs!”

An eyebrow raised on his face. In all the videos he’d ever seen Fluffies were dumb cowardly pathetic sycophants to humans that took everything at face value and parroted back anything they were told. These ones were acting like actual animals, defiant, and contradicting him. The ideas for the planned exchange as well as some pranks went out the window, he’d have to play every encounter by ear. Which of course would make it all more fun.

“Alright then. Well, time for you and your brats to come back into the living room so-“

“Nu am Babbehs.”


“Nu am Fwuffy’s Babbehs.”

“They’re not yours? You called yourself a mother though.”

“Dese nu am Fwuffy’s.”

“Fuck, you stole a bunch of kids? Guess it makes sense, you’d explode having this many in you.”

Her ears went back and she backed up a pace at the thought. The Smarty stomped, and shrieked at him. Andre ignored it.

“Here I thought you were some kinda badass warrior mom. You’re just a kidnapping little shit!”

“Nu! Babbehs am Mummah’s an Mummah Sissie’s Babbeh’s Babbehs an bestest nu-am-Dummeh wed nu-moa-Toughie sissie’s Babbehs!”

Andre stared at her for a moment trying to piece together what the fuck she just said before deciding he didn’t care. “Whatever. Your punishment will come later, thief.”

He reached down to pick up the Foals, only to be bitten by her. It didn’t break the skin, but it did pinch. “Ow, you little fucker!” He reached up to flick her nose only to be hit by the Smarty’s headbutt, the small horn sinking into his side and giving him a rather unpleasant tickle that caused an involuntary autonomic twitch. “OW! You bastard!”

He dropped the bowl and grabbed both by the scruff. “Listen here you little shits, you behave or I’ll bash your skulls together into paste! You wanna die like that? Be the weapon I kill your ‘special friend’ with?!”

“Smawty nu am Fwuffy’s Speshul Fwiend! Smawty am gud Smawty, onwy gib Speshul Fwiend Babbehs when ask! Fwuffy an Smawty gib bad Dummeh hoomin Sowwie Huwties if huwt Babbehs!”

The Smarty remained silent, instead lifting his tail and thrusting his posterior up. Andre immediately dropped the Mare and grabbed the Smarty’s rear end, shoving his face towards it. “Go on fucker! I dare you.” After a moment the Smarty relaxed and let his tail go limp again, continuing to stare daggers at Andre.

“Good. I’m going to set you down, and you’re both going to watch me move the kidnapping victims here to the living room. Then I’ll move you to the living room too. Got it?”

Both simply stared at him. He set down the Smarty, who maintained eye contact as he slowly walked over to where the green Mare had fallen, quickly righting her with his hoof before dropping his gaze to quickly check her for injuries.

Andre grabbed the bowl again and leaned over the babies.

“Also, if he’s not your mate then your fuckbuddy is gone, chickie. So looks like you’re a widow.”


“…your mate is dead.” Of course he didn’t know that, he’d forgotten to remind Sam to look out for it, but it was a Fluffy so it would probably get itself killed before too long. He didn’t know what Sam’s plans for these ones were, but they’d probably outlive any that were outside the safety of the farmhouse.

He turned to the babies, ignoring the wails and babbling from the small Mare. The commotion had woken them all up, but they weren’t moving much. Their peeping was quiet too. Hunger was likely taking its toll on them, though none were dead yet.

It looked like they were all still there, but he hadn’t kept a count before to be sure. This time he pulled his phone and took a picture of each as they went into the bowl.

Four of the same size and still strong enough to paw the air as they were lifted, all with large upper back legs and small stubby ears like the green Mare. Now in a seating position and watching him with clear anxiety while letting out the occasional sob and sniffle, the Mare said “Dose am Mummah’s Babbehs. Am Fwuffy’s sissies and bwuddews.” A lot of jokes about sibling rivalry, gaslighting, and ideas to freak her out like pretending one was a mutant came to mind, but the mood in the room wasn’t fun anymore.

He tried to examine each one closely but didn’t know what he was looking for. Their fluff was sparse but it covered up their skin well so he couldn’t tell if they had injuries, and after rubbing around the groin region of the first sightless puffball to try and find its junk he only succeeded in stimulating it to pee on his hand and felt incredibly uncomfortable with himself so he abstained from noting gender for now. He also didn’t know what to look for regarding breeds and types. He just knew those were things that exist and that Alicorns, whatever they were, were stupid shit like caviar or truffles to rich people.

The first of the Mare’s siblings that he picked up was an ugly dark green with a dark blue mane, another was a prettier color of green with a lighter blue mane as the lovely reflection of its ugly twin, one was a splotchy yellow and brown with khaki mane, and the last one was dappled sand green and a yellowish white but had no mane beyond a small tuft of off white on its head and tail.

In the bowl they went limp and rested comfortably snuggled next to each other.

The next group had similar ears, but were even more ugly with thin fluff through which the skin could be seen, a face that was like an early term horse fetus he’d seen dissected on Touyube while trying to cram last minute for a test at school, and a body like a pig with tiny pink hooves that looked almost transparent. Each had their eyes open and looked absolutely pathetic but were incredibly lethargic. They tried to speak so he lifted one up to his ear, but all they could say was baby babbling in sounds and noises. Only one was still cheeping, and was repeating the same sound of urgent need incessantly since Andre disturbed them.

Each one was brown, and one was unlucky enough to have a brown mane as well though it babbled the most. The brown and yellow one was strong enough to try to fight his hand instead of being picked up but was too weak to even attempt to kick. Brown with black mane was the one who was still chirping, and spasmed as if trying to wriggle out of his grip when he picked it up. It continued chirping in the bowl, its siblings powerless to shut it up.

Then there was the brown one with a light yellow mane that was one of the two that the Mare had dropped on the porch, this one more developed than the others with a sleek but coarse (for a Fluffy) fluff coat around its body. It was entirely defenseless as it couldn’t even right itself and simply laid on its side breathing heavily. The piebald fluff looked almost like an inverted and dirty deer coat. It was fairly quiet and the only sound it made was when he shifted it from one hand to the other.

“Dat wun am Mummah’s sissie’s owdew wittew Babbeh.”

“So where’s its siblings?”

“Dey…hab tummeh skettie awoun neck when bown.”

The image of a human baby strangled by their umbilical cord he’d seen in a movie came to mind. He tried to shake the thought away while he spoke without thinking. “Must have been good eating then, spaghetti and baby balls, one big happy family around the birthing table.” The words felt sour leaving his mouth.

“Nuuu! Aw Mummahs hab saddies, was Mummah sissie Fwuffy’s Speshul Fwiend’s wast Babbehs befowe hoomin gabe Stawwions fowebah sweepies!”

Fuck, this was getting worse and worse. Weren’t these things supposed to make people feel good? The ones he’d teased in the past had only ever been confused or pissed off, this was like giving noogies to holocaust survivors. People disemboweled them for stress relief after all. A nagging voice in his head felt like it was going to remind him it was another thing he was just bad at in life, so he opened his real mouth first to avoid the thought.

“I’m sure he took plenty of shits in his life, he didn’t need to see and sniff every one.”

“Nuuuuu.” She gave a pathetic sob and leaned against the Smarty. They whispered to each other while he went back to the Foal, wishing he could redo this entire exchange. Playing by ear with these was going to be harder than it seemed.

The Foal thrashed and made a noise like a wet sneeze from its open mouth as he turned it over in his hand, and when his index finger touched the spot beneath its right front armpit it flailed its legs and let out a long pitiful human infant-like croak. The thought of pressing his finger slowly into the spot until its eyes popped open and it screamed itself to death appeared in his mind, vanishing with a sense of shame as it stuck out its tiny pink tongue and he saw the small toothless mouth. It was so gross looking they he almost hoped it would die right there, but he also kind of wanted to ignore the others and go feed it immediately. Placing it in the bowl and clearing the sight from his mind solved the contradiction, and he moved on so as to avoid looking at the two adults.

The final group was the three that the Smarty carried in. All were a greenish brown with a slightly richer brown dappling (actually flea-bitten being the pattern name, though Andre hadn’t played a video game or seen a movie that used the term as anything but an old timey insult so he didn’t know it) and an ugly green mane, reminding him of some slimy logs from a swamp. They were in fairly good health it seemed, and picking them up caused them to thrash so hard he felt like he was going to drop them, to say nothing of the absolute shrieking that was syllabic like they thought they were making words. “Dose am bestest fwiend’s sissie’s Babbehs.”

Andre looked up in shock at the Smarty finally speaking. “So what happened to her?”

The Smarty blinked, his face stony. “Am gone.”

He looked down at them again. He’d picked up two at once after the first one’s freakout and this time they’d settled into sobbing and holding each other. “Huwt Babbehs an Smawty num ou see pwaces and weave ou a Dummeh-ew hoomin.”

He had reared himself back into a charging position, the stare one of fury, the Mare now tucked into herself and crying into her front hooves. The white all around the Smarty’s pupils were showing, an impressive feat for a Fluffy not having a panic attack or in agony. The urge to kick him and stomp the bastard for threatening him until there was nothing left came and was gone. Instead he shifted the babies into one hand and ruffled the Smarty’s headfluff. Andre ignored the resulting bite as he settled the three Foals in among the others, the first sibling switching from crying to cooing as it sensed the others.

He didn’t rush out the door the way he had before. A glance back told him the Mare was shaking, front hooves crossed in a kind of self soothing hug. The Smarty sat like a cat, hateful gaze completing the vaguely and strangely threatening pose. Then he shut the door on the scene. Sam was kneeling in front of the couch, examining Prussian while she mumbled in her ongoing panicked rant. “All shit colors dude.”

The amateur veterinarian looked up, then at the bowl.


“What do you mean so? They’re all fucking ugly.” He tipped the bowl slightly to show the contents.

“Look fine to me.”

“Nah, they’re all wrong.”

“So what are they supposed to look like then?”

“Like Easter pastels and shit. Springtime. Christmas colors. Pretty things.”

“You mean all that garishness that looks perfect for a small amount of time each year?”

“Yeah, I guess. But, like, they’re supposed to remind you of that shit, and make ya happy you know?”

“Nah. Sounds like bullshit from a women’s magazine.”

“I’ll have you know that Parade is for everyone, thank you. Look, they’re all wrong. We should get them fixed so their fucked up colors die with them. Like throwing out all the paintings from when the kids are learning to mix colors.”

“I’m kinda more concerned with keeping them alive right now, and thinking about Fluffy global eugenics maybe never.”

“Alright.” Andre shifted the bowl, feeling the weight shift as the contents squirmed. “But why though?”

Sam didn’t look at him, but pursed his lips as he gently palpated Prussian’s belly. Then once he was satisfied that the wound was staying closed and nothing was going to tear he stood up. “I dunno. They needed help.”

“Those dogs probably eat rabbits and shit all the time.”

“Rabbits don’t knock on the door and ask for help.”

“Aren’t they only like that because some mad scientist jerked off in a vat of the purple plastic they make girls toys out of or some shit?”

Sam smirked out one side of the mouth, but only a silence followed.

“So…now what then? Gonna make them pay rent? Gonna-“

Sam cut through the sentence with “Well, I can add up their debt alongside yours.” But Andre continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“-raise them for milk, meat, and leather? Got a plushy fetish I don’t know about?”

Sam reached for the bowl. “Look, I dunno. There’s no plan here, they just needed help and I don’t have anything better to do. I figure we’ll take care of them a while then release them like folks do with hurt squirrels and baby birds and shit.”

“People do that?”

“Yeah, they upload inspirational rescue diary vids to Touyube and stuff.”

“Is that your plan? Get internet famous being Hugbox Supreme for a week?”

“No plan. Just playing it by ear.”

Andre shrugged at that.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Maybe? I know it used to be, not sure if it still is here. Why?”

Andre again had no followup, since he certainly had no business criticizing public mischief, even involving biohazards.

After a quick inspection Sam had determined which Fluffies were the weakest and relocated them to the top of the squirming pile. He looked down to see if he should leave one with Prussian, but she had fallen asleep again so he took the bowl over to the separation between the kitchen and living room where he had set up his feeding station. It was not a premium product, and instead looked like something homemade. A small cat scratch tunnel formed the “abdomen” of a simulated mother with six extremely small baby bottle tops sticking out. On the other side was a PVC pipe connection to each one, an on/off spigot at each to control milk based on litter size, which united together into another screwtop where a glass bottle acting as a milk reservoir was screwed in. It was already filled and drops of milk were visible at the end of each mock nipple. It overall looked well-made, but the nipples did stick out a bit from the carpeting of the body.

“Think they’re gonna complain about how cold their ‘mom’ is?”

Sam looked at him, confused and concerned.

“You know…pointy nipples? Cold? Man, I’m wasted on you.”

Sam rolled his eyes wordlessly, then kneeled down to put the weak ones up to each nipple. They needed no coaxing, two having begun to squirm and open their mouths like birds as soon as they smelled the formula. The other four that were in worse shape remained limp and only opened their mouth when the wet drip touched their lips, sucking weakly and not trying to prop themselves up.

“…fuck, these little guys are almost gone. Dunno how many we can save.”

“Where’d you get that thing? You get it custom?”

“Nah. I hit the feed store before the Fluffy store since it closed first, turns out they had Fluffy shit there too. Clerk said their stuff was more for work Fluffies and farming, Fluffmart and the other pet store are more for those fancy breeders and with the expectation the mother is taking care of them or you’ll buy a mother.”

“What about that mother’s little shitlings?”

Sam looked him in the eye and said “You don’t know how people tend to color farm Fluffies, do you?”

“Do I want to?”

“You ever seen the Mad Max movie with the spraycan guys?”

“…there’s more than one of those movies?”

Of course Andre knew there was a few, but nothing pissed off movie nerd Sam more than comments like that. Plus it saved him admitting he’d only seen the recent reboot animated movie. Lying about being dumb and uncultured was better than admitting to it. He watched the babies suckle for a while, watched Sam swapping out the paper towels under each one as the suddenly rehydrated young began pissing and shitting often before they were even detached from the nipples, and finally watched some four second Tik Tic videos on his phone. But after the first six rotated out and the reservoir bottle was unscrewed to be refilled he got bored and went to fetch the two adults. Both were in almost the same pose, just relaxed. Before they had time to stand he’d nabbed them by the napes of the neck and carried them out. Their eyes had not yet adjusted to the blinding ceiling light returning when they were in the dark hall, keeping them blinking sightlessly between the two extremes and fussing.

“Wet poow Fwuffy down! Nu huwties!”

“WET SMAWTY DOWN DUMMEH POOPIE HOOMIN!” Andre wasn’t sure if that was racist or a generic insult, but one of the little swatches of pine resin he always kept in one of his pockets was earned either way. Back in the living room he set the Mare down quickly, then made it seem like he was just waiting for her to move before he could put the Smarty down. While she sat and waited for her eyes to adjust he’d been retrieving and applying the resin to the Smarty’s hoof, then dropping him the last three inches onto his ass.

“Dummeh hoomin!”

“Stress toy.”

“Stinky hoomin!”

Andre walked around to the couch and sat down next to Prussian, causing her to stir.

“Mongoloid mare.”

“Wotten stinky hoomin!”

It sounded like it was walking his way. The excitement from the day was pretty much gone, so he was just waiting for an excuse and idea to give the Smarty some shit. He was ready to move out of the way and deliver a mild kick to the fucker’s face if it tried to shit on him, if it stopped to continue the insult game he’d pin the little asshat down as a foot rest and make it watch some Fluffy torment ASMR (water, angry animals, a camera slowly falling into a giant box, writhing insects, a camera descending into a pile of shit, brown deformed and Derped Fluffies being doted on by on, all while some unsettling sounds play) on Touyube. It let out a sound of frustration, having likely discovered its foot was now sticking to the ground.

“Future hat.”

“Dummeh stinky wat hoomin!”

“Huh. You know what a rat is. Then you know what I’m gonna feed you to.”

“Nu scawed of watties, Smawty find and num dem befowe. Ou nu gud enuff to num tho!”

“You either. I still plan on lighting you on fire though.”

The little bastard had reached him, slowly walking to face him with the most hateful sneer it could manage (more of a sneeze face, but a tiny bit unsettling regardless).

“Stoopid dummeh hoomin nebah gon…gonna…”

The Smarty’s expression melted as it noticed Prussian, the comeback dying on its lips. In a very different voice it softly said “Speshul fwiend?”

“Oh shit. Hey Sam! Peanut here’s mate is the Smarty!”

“Can’t hear you!”

“We should abort her little shitmaggots, I heard Smarties pass on their dummy-ness or something!”

“Kinda busy!”

The Smarty raced up to sniff the slumbering blue muscleball. Her eyes were open slightly and her mouth was ajar, but Andre was disappointed when the Smarty crept forward to examine her rather than fly into a blind panic. He hoped the Charolais was going to be a more standard Fluffy intellect or Spritz would end up living at the uncrossable bullying line.

The Smarty had watched her closely, seen her breathing and saw a hoof twitch. After giving her muzzle a sniff he spoke to her.

“Speshul Fwiend? Speshul Fwiend, wake upsies. Need ou to feed babbehs. Hab babbehs, hab…hab…aww da hewd hewe.” He pushed her slightly with his muzzle. “Wakesies, Speshul Fwiend.” His shoulders visible drooped a bit, his tail going fully limp against his posterior. “Speshul Fwiend…”

Andre opened his mouth, getting out “Dude, she’s-“ before catching himself. This was a pretty pathetic sight, the misunderstanding death fakeout trope from what felt like half the television he ever watched was playing out in real life in front of him. That shit he rolled his eyes at but always felt a bit of anxiety during. His instinct was to take it to the extreme, get him wailing and begging for death by describing her final words as a glorious sonnet of how she died because she realized how ugly and stupid he was, and her agonizing and bloody end with storytelling that would match the description of watching a balloon full of earthworms pop in slow motion. But he remembered the bedroom, and how these Fluffies would take more effort than impulse and cheap cleverness. He stood up from the couch, picked up the Smarty and set him down next to her, then said “She’s alive you little gerbil douche, she got fucked up pretty bad by a dog but Sam fixed her up. Give her some hugs and shut the fuck up for a while.” He then walked around the couch to see how the babies were doing.

Sam was facing away, on his hands and knees trying to coax Spritz out from a cupboard table against the wall. The grass-colored Mare was licking the pile of fussing ones with full bellies and sorting them onto a small frilly blanket Sam had laid out for them from somewhere. The last few were at the feeder, with an empty can of formula discarded on the floor behind it. She was humming a song, something simple but surprisingly on key compared to the ‘three-fingered man has a seizure while trying to play Chopsticks on a xylophone with a rubber chicken while blindfolded’ song of most Fluffies. Based on the look on her face between lapping up spittle, getting wet slobbery burps blowing in her eyes, and then having to turn them upside down to eat dripping ass like a gonzo porn pro, she was probably wishing for death. Feeling immediately cheered up Andre went to inspect the kitchen cupboards for food, settling on the third to last pack of microwave ghost pepper and turkey ramen.

Back in the living room about twenty minutes later he found Spritz laying on top of the side of Sam, who had fallen asleep on the floor in something approaching the fetal position with his head on one arm. In an identical mirrored position, though a hoof replacing the upper arm, was the grassy Mare in the middle of an oozing pile of constantly excreting infants like a spot of turf in a field of mud. On the couch was the Smarty, who was spooning Pemican or whatever her name was. It had not occurred to him that he may do her harm; she didn’t appear to have been raped, but from the blood on his mouth and the couch beneath her belly he’d ripped out her stitches. A moment of panic hit where he imagined picking her up and not having her guts come with, replaced by the calming realization that he hadn’t been obligated to watch her any longer and thus it was Sam’s fault. He considered waking him up and tricking him into picking her up, but the dude was clearly tired so he opted to check himself by lifting her up slowly. Thankfully her wound was still closed, looking puffy but otherwise like a few days of healing had passed already. Unfortunately this awoke the Smarty. A minute of screeching, accusations of harming the mate and threats of violence with its childishly limited vocabulary later and the entire room was awake aside than the seemingly comatose pregnant Mare. Spritz had somehow managed to run into the grass-colored Mare in a waking panic, toppling the baby pyramid resulting in two screaming females and a writhing mass of tiny bodies. Sam for his part was just sitting up and blinking in shock while trying to process what happened while a wild laugh flowed from Andre. Despite the best efforts of the humans it took around ten minutes to quiet the mini herd down, during which time the Smarty had been enlisted calming down his subjects.

Soon the two conscious females, male, and baby swarm were left on the blanket and facing the two humans standing by the edge of the couch. The Smarty’s expression one of extreme dislike which was broken up by curious glances down at his sap’d hoof, the grassy female his polar opposite as she looked on the pair with a look of genuine enthusiasm and optimism, and Spritz wearing a look of apprehension like a condemned man eying the gallows from his window in the body of a deformed puppy/horse hybrid.

“Alright Fluffies, listen up. Those of you old enough to understand speech…do the babies understand words?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll write this down in a composition book for them to read and/or be beaten with later.”

Spritz began shaking, the others not reacting at all.

“Shut up, Andre. Okay, so you may be wondering why I rescued you. The answer is…I don’t know. I’m figuring this out as I go. But for right now, you get food and shelter and stuff. When I get sick of you then you’re going right back outside. Clear?”

The Fluffies didn’t react.


The grass Fluffy cocked her head in confusion, but otherwise no reaction.

“Do you understand?”

At this there were three heads bobbing in agreement. Andre rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to add slapstick to the third rate Vaudeville routine brewing.

“So, here’s the rules. No annoying me, or demanding stuff. Which is kinda the same thing I guess. Or hurting other Fluffies, and…only shitting and pissing where I don’t have to worry about stepping in it. Also I need my sleep, so there’s times when you’ll need to be quiet. I don’t want a population boom either, so baby making is going to be a very limited time thing. I’m going to decide on a bunch of stuff later, like once I have a chance to do some research, so this isn’t the only time we’ll talk rules.” The grassy Mare was trying to pay attention but kept glancing around the room, and although she’d resisted the urge to turn around and look at the baby pile her rotating ears made it clear where her thoughts were. Spritz on the other hand wasn’t even pretending to pay attention, her gaze only finding prolonged contact with the other two Fluffy…adults? Andre wasn’t clear on how their aging worked, though she was both the smallest and seemed the dumbest so he assumed she was a teen or young adult equivalent. Beyond that the light fixture from which small glass jewels hung was her biggest fascination, along with the rainbow light refractions it cast. It was unlikely she made the connection between the two yet, so he made a mental note that it could be used to cheer her up if he ever got too close to breaking her spirit.

The Smarty on the other hand was entirely focused on the two humans. Only one ear at a time pivoted when he heard noises from the other three Fluffy sources, eyes going back and forth between Sam and Andre. From the flaring nostrils and slight puff of cheeks he could tell its tiny mind was already against him though Sam only received narrowed eyes and a stony expression. Sam’s family all talked with their hands and he was no exception, but the Smarty kept its eyes trained pretty steadily on Sam’s mouth regardless of the motions.

“So, uh, any questions?”

Andre couldn’t resist the invitation. “I got one; if I put my foot up the Smarty’s ass, does that count as sexual encounters with a coworker?”

For that he got a glare from his co-human to the left and the Smarty straight ahead. The grassy Mare babbled something while Spritz backed up and whimpered loudly, so he spoke louder for the added “Because I’m counting the missed sleep from the nonstop screeching these things do as man hours, and from the look he’s giving me he clearly is begging for it. On a related note remind me to send HR a fruit basket in advance.” The joke fell flat as hell as it left his mouth, and picking on the Smarty so blatantly was not going to provide the group mocking effect he’d hoped for since the other two were clearly devoted to him. Sam clearly wasn’t in the mood for a back and forth either. In the short and embarrassing silence while the two other males glared and the two females puzzled out if their friend was in danger Andre recalculated, figuring Sam needed a rest and time to get annoyed with the bastards before he was willing to play along. If the Smarty wasn’t the weak link he’d put money on it being Spritz, though he also considered that the three adults would always side against him. In that case he just had to wait for the babies to grow up a bit more so he could turn them against each other like high school cliques instead. Either way, he was getting more optimistic about life on the farm.

Sam finally broke the pause when he made an exasperated noise before saying “Dude. I kinda need your help here, not your stupid jokes.” Andre showed him a side gaze accompanied by a slightly frustrated expression.

“I don’t know what I’m helping with. The ‘day of healing after the week from hell’ you said you needed became a day of tending livestock. Not that the amateur surgeon bit wasn’t awesome, but the hell do you want me to do? This is your thing man. You want me to punish one or do some basic babysitting or whatever, fine. But this orientation kinda needs a fucking curriculum first.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak but said nothing before closing it again. Andre knew he’d get stuck doing some stupid shit taking care of the little cunts eventually since Sam had the power of a landlord here, but the combination of half-asses attempts to do chores that he’d done along with Sam’s general unwillingness to be alone would keep him from pulling rank. Plus since he had no plan for these little mongrels despite the long car trip to think things over there was no need to keep them too happy or productive at anything. That gave him enough wiggle room to get out his frustrations at his recent and immediate cottage core life on them.

A thunk behind them got the attention of the room. Pedant or whatever her name was had fallen off the couch, a pitiful groan that even he could sympathize with emitting before she let out a weakly wavering and whiny “Speshul Fwieeend…wan…nee…wan…” answered by a gasped “Speshul Fwiend?”

But Andre was shocked at the source of the answer; the grassy Mare. Eyebrows raising, he looked at the Smarty who merely wore an expression of concern on his sourpuss face. Spritz began to run forward before glancing up, remembering the humans between her and them and instead backing up then stepping forward in an agitated manner. “Bwue Soon-Mummah nee hewp!”
The grassy Mare looked to the Smarty with panicked eyes, who finally broke eye contact with from Andre to look at her. “Yus.” he said plainly, and she raced forwards.

Sam had reached her and was an inch from picking her up when the grassy Mare latched onto the infirm Fluffy, sobbing and shaking as she hugged and shook her. “Spe-eshul snff Fwieeend! Fwuffy wub ou, miss ou suu muchieees! Huu huu thinky ou gu Fowebah Sweepies! Hoomin say ou nu hewe, cwy suu muchies! Had heawt huwties, heawt feew dawky. Think…think hnn OU GET NUMMED BY MUNSTAH-uh-uh! Buaaaaa huu-huu-huuuu” Sam had lifted his hands to give her room, but reached down and grabbed the grassy Mare to stop her from shaking the blue one so hard. This only panicked her, causing her to tightly squeeze her apparent mate’s neck even harder. Said mate was clearly in pain and now choking and gasping for air, but instead of pushing the hysterical smaller Fluffy off she was weakly hugging her back. Giving up on pulling her away without hurting her he was trying to force her arms off Pelican’s neck which was made difficult both by the pregnant Fluffy actually having a neck and her muscular shoulders leaving nowhere for them to go.

Andre made a show of kneeling down to “hold back” the stunned Smarty to avoid being asked to be involved in the scuffle, who realized at the last moment before contact that he was looming over it and jerked out of his gasp before taking a bite at the air in his direction as a warning. He pulled his hands back, instead adopting the posture of being ready to grab the Fluffy if it dashed forward. Being completely out of his element in this sudden shift in his understanding of their group dynamic, Andre mumbled out “So you’re the one with the dead fuckbuddy then.”

It looked him full in the eye with a squinted expression of confusion and resentment. “Nu know wha fuckbuddy is, bu dat am Speshul Fwiend.” It then sneered at him and said “Ou am wiaw. Dummeh hoomin thinky dat Smawty nu find out dat Speshul Fwiend am otay.” Then it gave a hateful grin. “Speshul Fwiend am smawtew dan ou.”

Ooh. This little shit was gonna pay for that stupid remark.

“I thought she meant a male.” He didn’t mean the defensive tone, but this Fluffy had caught him off guard. He didn’t have to worry about being insensitive, they were fucking artificial animals. Vermin. Dyke horse rats, rug munching slutty whore vermin!

But that thought chain made him recoil a bit inside with how quickly he jumped to that level of venom. Legit hate speech in his inside voice, all because the little asshole got smug at him. Everything about these little assholes put him off balance, they were nothing like the normal idiot ones he picked on all over the place. They weren’t demanding, their connections were complicated. They pissed him off and made him stray from funny antics into attempts at genuine torment, and either by being pathetic or surprisingly aggressive they kept putting him on his back foot. As the cocky bastard smirked he just wanted to punch the little fucker, put its face in a belt sander or snap the neck of all the other little fuckwads and tell it that its all its fault for daring to think it was better than him. Fury gripped Andre, and his younger self probably would end the little fuck’s life right here and now. But there was a line…sure, he could smash the bastard into paste but Sam might actually kick him out. Even if he did it later, left the little fuck out to get eaten by coyotes or to drink antifreeze like a stray cat, it wouldn’t feel any better. He’d still be pissed off, and still feel like it won. He needed to beat it, but as he looked at the increasingly self-pleased mongrel he couldn’t think of anything clever, or a prank that would be appropriate. So back to that same losing cruelty then.

“So, you used prima nocta, huh? Cucked the little-“ Andre struggled to think quickly of a term that wasn’t a slur “-girl loving girl?” He mentally slapped his own forehead at how lame it sounded. “Lemme guess, you caught them making a fat little sixty-nine and got so horny you wanted to show her what a real man felt like?” Oh god, he was paraphrasing shit he’d jerked off to now. He could salvage this though, he could win. As the Smarty opened its mouth he went on. “I’m surprised to see you wanted the big one. I know you Smarties are all kiddie-diddling rapemonkeys, the little petite one ought to have totally been your thing.” Sam was going to be pissed since the bullying was getting heavy and the subject matter both targeted and extreme, but the disappearance of the smile on the Fluffy meant he was winning now. “Maybe you wanted to show the butch one a thing or two instead? Top the dom.” Shit, was butch a slur? It felt like it. But now he had a clear path and tempo and he was going to take it. “I get it though, its gotta be satisfying to feel like king of the mountain on the big girl. Or maybe you’re not all that into Mares and wanted the big strong one so you can keep it hard enough to finish?” That one was definitely wrong to say, and if Fluffies didn’t hate being called gay it would put the Fluffy closer to looking like the bigger man here. He was pretty sure Sam was straight, but rarely laughed at gay jokes while they were busting on bad movies together. Andre still thought he could save this before someone interrupted him though, the outrage on the Fluffy’s face and sudden end to Sam’s verbal placating of the grassy Mare letting him know he was on his last chance. “I’m just shocked you knocked her up. After all her shit hole-“ Andre had only three paths in his mind, one doubling down on the gay insult, one by knocking its intelligence by suggesting it couldn’t tell where it stuck it, and one that popped into Andre’s head before he could analyze it which he went with “-makes the most sense since you sadistic little fucks generally go for whatever hurts the most.” He regretted not going for the intelligence joke, since he was clearly not hated by the other two and thus unlikely a rapist. The Smarty managed to say ‘Dummeh’ before he quickly added “Unless you tore it into one giant hole. She did look a little gaped while we were fixing her up earlier.” Well, shit. He managed to fuck up the landing after fucking up the rest of the verbal attack as well, not only attacking the wrong target but no doubt providing some relief by revealing she was healing and even managing to compliment the fucker’s dick on top of it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” came Sam’s voice, but any further rant was cut off by the Smarty’s shriek of anger. “NUUU DUMMEH STOOPID HOOMIN! Dat am Fwuffy’s Speshul Fwiend, Smawty onwy am Speshul Fwiend once to gib gud Mawes babbehs! Nu am bad Smawty, am bestest Smawty since Smawty Beaw! Gib huwties onwy to bad Fwuffies dat bweak Smawty’s wuwes! HATECHU! Dummeh wiaw bad hoomin, Smawty gib ou huwties!” It proceeded to charge him, dodging his outstretched hand and delivering a horn right into his ankle. “Agh! That fucking hurt!” It didn’t hurt that much of course, but incredulity and outrage amplified his response.

“Good job Smarty, give him another one to shut him up.” said Sam. The Smarty had already pulled back and launched another short headbutt, catching the side of Andre’s shoe as he lifted the foot out of harms way.

“Dude, this little shit is actually trying to hurt me. He’s fucking rabid or something.” He pivoted around as the Smarty charged the other foot, seeing Spritz’s tail sticking out from under the couch and that Sam had managed to calm the grassy Mare into a head nuzzle against the resting Periwinkle (that sounded like her name this time, he thought) at the base of where she had fallen off the couch cushion above. The Smarty wheeled around and stopped, staring daggers at him in front of Sam and the two reunited lovers like some kind of valiant lancer heroic knight that was his own steed.

“Good, you deserve it dude. What the hell is wrong with you? Being a jerk like this…well, being this kind of a jerk isn’t like you anyway.”

Actually it very much was. But losing like this, being this dissatisfied with every encounter with the targets of what he intended as merely gentle ribbing, that absolutely was out of the ordinary. Obviously that’s not what he intended to tell Sam, but lying didn’t occur to him either. So he let out a breath to calm down and give him a moment to think then said “Sorry man, these things just have me on edge. I’m not really sure how to interact with them. They keep pissing me off or making me feel awkward, and I’m not dealing with it well.” He eyed the Smarty who had the stance of a bull about to charge. “Also I hate this little shit.” Sam similarly let out a sigh. “Yeah, I get it. Its been a strange day. Just mellow out, I can’t take this right now. I gotta get these guys situated since I gotta be at work in ten hours. You gonna help me tonight and tomorrow?”

Shit, here it was. The call to arms. Once he committed Sam would expect it, he had one chance to dodge this now.

“I don’t know man, I still don’t know what you want to do with these. I need to know whats up before I can say if I can help you.”

“…alright. Fine. I get it, I’d feel the same. Can I at least get you to babysit them tomorrow and not give them too much razzing?”

Good. Andre had the power tonight. Coddling the fuckers tomorrow wasn’t super thrilling, since he’d been looking forward to some jerking off in the house alone between managing his Epay auctions, but it would give him some time alone with the little assholes to feel out how to ‘play’ with them in a way he could win. He’d have to be careful since they could snitch on him, but he’d have to figure it out eventually. But he needed advantage before agreeing so there was low expectations.

“I just don’t know, I’m out of my element here. I’m not good with kids or animals. Plus its lesbo Fluffies and the third man, I’m not sure how to deal with that. What if he gets horny and starts fucking one? Or they start going at it? What if Spritz gets into a hiding spot and dies there?”

“That’s all exactly what I need you to look out for, and to feed the babies.”

“But dude, Spritz is just fucking gone. I can’t keep track of her and keep this bunch here from fucking. Plus feeding the other little shits on top of all the shit I have to do tomorrow!”

Sam raised an eyebrow so Andre activated the emergency comedy. “Plus this little guy looks like a minute man. What if I spend a half hour getting Spritz to poop in the right spot, and find that this little guy busted a nut in every six centimeter opening in the house?” Despite himself, Sam snickered and relaxed his crossed arms. Andre pushed a bit more. “What if I get PTSD from coming back from mopping the shit off the ceiling in the kitchen only to find a shriveled Fluffy mummy next to a jizzy pen cap? I need to know that this Fluffy shit harvesting operation covers therapy.”

Open laughter from Sam now. Good. One thing Andre had learned quite well is that once Sam was laughing he was an easy mark. He could be baited into bullying other kids or forgiving most offenses back in school that way.

“Alright, alright! Just feed the babies and keep an eye on the others when you get a chance, let me know if one goes missing. I’ll clean the messes when I get home.”

The Smarty, who had dropped his combat stance, turned to Sam and said “Smawty am bestest Smawty. Aways make suwe hewd nebah weave messies whewe Fwuffies wawkies.”

From under the couch came a muffled agreement from Spritz. Andre rolled his eyes but Sam reached out to pet the Smarty, who shrunk back and eyed him warily. “Alright then Smarty, you be in charge of the girls.” The Smarty cocked its head at him. “…yus. Smawty am in chawge of hewd. Dat wut Smawties am. Smawtest. Do all the thinkies.”

Andre snorted at that. He really needed a way to fuck with the little guy. No way would he manage to keep from using the knitting needles in a box in the corner to ventilate the little shit before throwing it in the oven unless he had a better way to let off steam and dominate it.

Sam stood, stretched, and yawned. “Alright, I’m gonna pop upstairs and find something for them to sleep on. Watch them for a moment.”

Andre raised his hand in acknowledgement and walked over to the Fluffy group, the Smarty keeping himself between the rocking/hugging females and him. He eyed the two for a while before glancing at the pile of slumbering infants. Finally he walked over to the computer chair and sat down, pulling out his phone and watching the Fluffies through the guise of being distracted by the holographic projection of the calculator program. The Smarty never let his attention drift too far from Andre, one ear remaining pivoted towards his direction and constant glances at the potential threat and both groups of charges. But it began to wander around and examine the room, less looking at the pretty things and more at potential escape and hiding places. The milk machine got some decent sniffing before it seemed satisfied at what it provided the young. The babies were given a cursory glance, followed by a long and narrowed eying of Andre who continued to pretend to be fascinated by the minus key and tapping the even numbers idly. Prussian had fallen asleep in the grassy Mare’s embrace, while she looked on her partner with a simpering gaze that gave Andre a squirming feeling like seeing two people make out at a bus stop. Spritz had meanwhile discovered her own reflection in the glass of a cabinet door and was carefully approaching then backing away from the other Fluffy she saw. By the time the Smarty had completed the second circle of the room and begun to walk cautiously towards the kitchen he suddenly froze then dashed back to the females. A moment later Andre heard Sam’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and he opened the note taking application to record that the Smarty’s hearing was better than his own and that when confronted with a threat he’d chosen the females over the infants.

When Sam’s face appeared from the hallway Andre glanced over the phone display at him and nodded, showing he’d been at least listening. Sam frowned then turned and kneeled by the base of the stairs to set up a giant bed for the Fluffies. “Alright you varmints, scrounged up some blankets and a box for you. Got some newspaper and a plush otter for the babies.” Andre began looking up pranks to play on small children online, figuring he’d wait to get ready for bed until the irritable Sam was done; despite three bathrooms in the house they’d both been using the one on the first floor since it meant less cleaning.

Before even a minute had gone by there came sudden noise at the corner by the front window, like a garden hose being forced to spray by a finger inserted into the end. A runny brown mist that was stretching from the floor and ending just under the base of the window sill was coming from the Smarty’s tail about a foot away. Both front legs were outstretched to the ground, back legs locked in the standing position and the tail raised in futility. This was unlike the average Fluffy diarrhea shit or weaponized blast Andre had seen from ferals or in prank videos; the bastard had clearly been holding it (of course that made it Sam’s fault as far as Andre was concerned). Both humans merely watched as the sound and sight shrank quickly into a wet squeak then dripping followed by a visible clench in the Smarty’s haunches. It had time to swish its tail in a motion that moved most of its body, leaving droplets flying both ways before the smell hit. Both humans were doubled down while the Smarty drug its ass in a semicircle on the carpet to continue getting clean like two servants bowing to an infant king. Sam gagging from nausea, Andre from a cramp caused by hysterical laughter. Glancing behind and underneath itself the Smarty seemed satisfied by its admittedly not terrible job getting clean given its physical capabilities, then turned around towards Spritz and the grassy Mare who had both come to see what their leader had done. “Dis am da poopie cownew. Make gud poopies and peepees hewe. Cwean aww Foaw poopies and peepees. Nu make messies fow da maybe-gud hoomin.”

“Yus Smawty!” they chimed in unison, tails wagging.

Chapter 4


I started writing this months ago, before I was even done with chapter 2 and only had a few notes for 3 and 4. I only really had to finish it when I published 4, but then the plague got worse again. Then people started eating horse deworming paste and accusing other folks of poisoning them all while random things started not being restocked in stores and my contacts were split between people partying like its December 2019 and ones living like its the zombie apocalypse. I had to delete a line in this scrawl about people huffing witch hazel fumes to try and cure themselves of the outbreak which resulted in there being no space for mass shooting victims in any hospitals in some states without being driven in to states with lower redneck populations. Guess I’m a fucking oracle, only witch hazel is somehow more plausible than folks huffing hydrogen peroxide and only one state was being optimistic.
After time spent away not even checking whats being made I rediscovered the catharsis that writing this slop brings. Its a too long disjointed mess and the final joke which I wrote in my drafts for chapter one isn’t really funny anymore but whatever, but I need to put it out so I can start writing about the rock bottom things humanity has been inspiring me to come up with. Buying a Furby helped, the 2016 ones are basically Fluffies complete with farting frequently and an obsession with babies, though realizing it mostly shuts up and grooves to Iron Maiden and Pink Floyd gave me some interesting ideas as well.
It seems the community is slowing down a bit, making me wonder how many people here were kids on summer break and how many just don’t find writing about dumb arrogant assholes hurting themselves or being so stupid they earn an ass beating fun these days. I saw some references to gay stuff being forced out on here, so I don’t know if this’ll get buried or whatever. I think most of the sequential stories I was planning ended up with at least one alphabet person at some point. Its funny thinking that I was trying to rush this out during Pride month this year. It’ll probably be a pain to read, I’ll try and edit the paragraphs and shit into better grouping later. The pacing is fucked to hell but so is everything else so whatever. I think there’s a new MLP cartoon, maybe that’ll get more folks making Fluffy shit.

I have a line as a joke news report for like chapter 7 about senior citizen terrorists taking over a hospital and having a standoff trying to demand the head of the UN taskforce handling pandemics to unlock a secret door in the morgue where they think a Chinese vampire is keeping their friends who died. I want to claim that now before some shit like that really happens.

I haven’t forgotten the adoptables. The Cow Fluffy mentioned is @emotionalsupportfluffy’s.


THHHHHHHHHHHK!!! :smiling_face_with_three_hearts::heart_eyes::heart::sob::crazy_face::grin:


I hope you continue this story

This caught me off guard not gonna lie. xD

back to reading…