The sun shone brightly on the yard where Braxton ran around chasing buggies while daddeh watched and drank tea. “Tee hee! Bwaxtin gon catch yu! Nu eben twy wun way, buggie fwend!” He clumsily clomped and tumbled around the yard, his dark green fluff being lightly stained by the grass. Daddeh walked over to him and tousled his neon pink mane. “That’s right buddy, you’re gonna catch them. But let’s go in and eat lunch first.” Braxton perked up, shining like a lantern. “Wunchtime awweddy? Hooway! Bwaxtin wub hab nummies!” He trundled haphazardly through the yard towards the back porch, tripping over his own feet a few times in excitement. He’d get a head of steam going, then tumble forward laughing at himself as he did. “Siwwy weggies! Bwaxtin haftu wun gu hab nummies wif daddeh! Wets gu!”
Daddeh lifted up Braxton into his high chair and gave him his big bowl of tasty spaghetti. Braxton dug in messily, humming a song without a distinct meter or melody. “Bwaxtin wub sketties, wub daddeh! Deez sketties suuuuuuuu tasteh! Yum yum!” Daddeh rolled his eyes and smiled. “You messy little goober. Let’s see what’s on tv?” He turned on FluffTV and was greeted with somber music and the image of a derped foal struggling to walk in a straight line towards his food.“This poor colt will likely never live to see his first birthday. He needs constant aid and assistance that only a human owner can provide.” The confused and clearly frightened little fluff had a layer of thin brown fuzz, not yet old enough for full fluff and a mane. It staggered awkwardly while making a wet “chirp” noise that was almost more of a “cheeb” sound than anything else.
Braxton and daddeh watched, entranced by the image before them. “Life as a mentally handicapped fluffy is hard, everything is confusing and nobody wants to give you the time you need to think when solving problems.” The video cut to the same fluffy, scared and shaking atop a small slide, with a line of agitated babbehs behind it shouting. “Huwwy up dummeh! Fiwwip wan gu on swide!” One screamed as another clomped up behind the poor frightened colt. “Das wite! Bawwy nu wike wait fow stoopy poopy! Time fow gu wite nao!” He spun around and kicked the brown foal, who made a screeching sound as he tumbled forward down the slide.
He let out scaredy peepees as he went, and they streamed down the slide. When Barry went, he found himself wet at the bottom and flew into a rage. “Dummeh made bad peepees aww obah whowe swide! Make swide aww gwoss an icky yucky fow babbehs! Nee wowstest kickies!” He then began pummeling the sobbing infant, who had thus far not yet managed to right himself. The other babbehs up the slide were now growing panicked at the now apparent trails and puddles of pee blocking their way. “Nu wan gu on peepee swide! Sumbuddy sabe babbehs!” A few had taken to hugging each other for comfort at the top, but this just made babbehs on the steps feel left out so they climbed up to join in. Of course, there wasn’t nearly enough room for all these babbehs so some started tumbling down through the piss. As foals reached the bottom, they joined in on punishing “wowstest peepee babbeh” for “wuin fun swide wif peepees” and “make aww babbeh nu smeww pwetty.”
The narration returned. "Do you have it in your heart to help one of these poor souls? Go to your local shelter today, adopt someone who really needs your love."
Braxton was conflicted. Part of him was sooooo sad that the poor brown fluffy had such a hard life. But he also felt this paternal instinct deep inside to care for the weak, a hallmark of the human DNA and neurological code that gave fluffies their more recognizably social traits and appetites. His daddeh was feeling it too. “You know bud, maybe that’s what we need. He could be like a little brother for you!” Braxton perked up. “Weawwy? Bu daddeh awways say onwy wan wun fwuffy!” Daddeh smiled. “Well sure, but this would be like YOUR fluffy. He’s gonna need your help for things, even eating and drinking! You’d need to help him go to the litterbox, you’d need to keep him entertained, all that. Think you can do that?”
Braxton jumped down off the couch and started sloppily running circles in excitement. “Yuss! Yuss! Sad fwuffy nee hewp fwum Bwaxtum! Poow wittwe dummeh fwuff nu can hab gud nummies ow eben fin wittabawks! Bwaxtin wiww hewp! Bwaxtun wub wittwe dummeh fwuff!” He was beaming. His heart soared as he anticipated the joy he could bring to the poor sad babbeh from teebee. "Wan gu git wite nao!" Daddeh chuckled. “Alright champ, let’s hop in the car and head out. I’m pretty excited too!”
The drive to the shelter didn’t take long. Braxton couldn’t stop thinking about all the fun stuff he’d show the sad babbeh. He was gonna be like a daddeh! The poor sad babbeh would have such a hard time doing anything, he was glad that a good fluffy like himself would be there to protect and comfort this sad babbeh, so it could be a happy fluffy! Like good Braxton!
Daddeh led Braxton into the shelter. Braxton always felt kind of sad at the shelter, most of the fluffies there really needed new daddehs, and meanie Braxton was just flaunting his! Mostly the other fluffies would cry, but a few always got angry and yelled at Braxton and daddeh. “Nu faiw! Nu faiw! Ugwy poopy fwuffy hab daddeh bu gud yewwow fwuffy gon be piwwow nex bwite tiem! Sabe gud Sundwop! Peeze!” As Braxton scurried away from the hysterical mare, he almost bumped into the Pillow Pile. A collection of fifteen Pillowfluffs had been stacked in a rough pyramid, plugged to prevent them from getting filthy while on display. Behind the counter sat another fifteen pillowfluffs, the “B Shift,” on display in individual cubbies with their names. They looked out over the rest of the storefront, a couple glazed over, most of them sobbing softly, and one still struggling to move his nonexistent weggies. “Nu faiw! Wan wun! Wan pway! Wai pick fwuffy? Udda fwuffies nu wike tu wun, nu wike tu pway! Jus wazybones dat watch teebee an gwaze on nummies aww day! Wai dey get weggies? Nu FAIW!”
Meanwhile, the pile Braxton narrowly avoided sliding into was a soft chorus of “huuuu” and “miss weggies” and “poopie pwace huwt.” The fluffies all had their names on their sides in the form of stickers. Names like “Lumpy” and “Couch Potato” were common, as well as names like “Speedy” and “Racer.” Pillows always made Braxton uncomfortable. He felt so bad for them since they couldn’t move, but the teebee always made it sound like they were happy? Commercials always showed them being content and relaxed, and shows like the Pillowfluff Hour made the lifestyle seem glamorous. Not for an active young stallion like Braxton, of course. He loved running and playing. But he knew fluffies like the loud pillow mentioned. Some of them were older, but some were just content to laze around eating snacks and watching the clouds go by. He liked to believe that all Pillowfluffs were like this. Most days he could manage to convince himself of that. Most days don’t involve a visit to the shelter.
"Huuuuu nu wan be piwwow, wan be wawky wunny fwuffy gain! Nu unnastan! Wai hoomin wan dummeh Piwwows? Sumbuddy esspwain tu fuffy!" The fluffy’s ongoing tantrum at its own predicament was met with a swat from the pockmarked teenager at the counter. “Shut up, pillows are supposed to be happy.” He looked at daddeh. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, my buddy here and I saw a…mentally challenged foal on tv and thought it would be nice to adopt one. Give him sort of a project of his own, keep him occupied when I’m busy. He can be a lot to keep track of!” Daddeh and the worker started to laugh together as daddeh picked up Braxton and gave him a playful noogie. The worker finished laughing, and his demeanor changed. “Well unfortunately that show’s been on a lot. You aren’t the first ones with that idea. All the derped foals got snatched up over the last two days, and this morning we even ran out of healthy foals.” Daddeh frowned. “Wow, people got baby fever from THAT? Not exactly the same thing, is it?” The teen shrugged. “Most of them also asked about how to replicate the brain damage from the one on tv. It’s not an exact science. Well, I mean, it probably IS, but you know what I’m saying. It’s hard to tell the difference between stopping early enough you basically just gave the fluffy permanent headaches and stopping late enough that it can’t even control most of its muscles anymore. It’s a fine line.”
Daddeh frowned. “Well that’s a shame, I would really prefer the kind of helplessness I saw in that foal. Really speaks to me, makes me feel things for a change. Do you have ANY derped fluffies?” The teen nodded, waved over another worker to watch the counter, and led Daddeh to the back with Braxton along for the fun ride. They entered a room with tile floor and walls and an exposed ceiling with no porous tiles, just superstructure and pipes. There were a handful of ratty old pillows and chewed up toys here to keep five full grown but very disabled fluffies from being too loud. Two of them were walking around slowly, just meekly saying “hewwo” as they passed the same three fluffies over and over again. No light in their eyes. The other three were lying down. One of them was just permanently in the litterbox. Braxton could swear he saw him eat litter. The other two were watching tv, or at least pointed at it.
“Back here is the derped stock. Normally these last a week and we chuck em in the burner,” at the mention of this the fluffy in the litterbox made a gasp and jumped a little, “but we managed to offload all but these five. They’re all really REALLY docile, so people feel like they won’t need much care and won’t show appreciation. The first part’s not true, but the second one is. These guys don’t feel much emotion at this point. Probably why none of them are afraid of going Forever Sleepies in a couple days before we close for the weekend.” The litterbox fluffy spoke up, albeit in a slurring monotone. “Nuuu…uuu…u… F…fuffy wan…wan nu…nu wan gu…sweeb…fobebba…” He started to lift himself up, the dried litter caked to his belly fluff making a “shhh” noise as it fell off him. "W…an…wibe…am…am faffy?"
Daddeh frowned. “Well these just won’t do, they’re not endearing at all. They’ll just make Braxton cry more.” Braxton was being a very good boy and not making scaredy noises, but daddeh was right. Braxton was elated when they left the room.
“So I’m thinking maybe you don’t need a foal at ALL.” The teen started his pitch. “I think what you need is a mature young fluffy that you derp once it’s gotten a handle on your home. That way what’s left rattling around its brain will at least be familiar with your home. Cuts down on how afraid they get of the new environment.” Daddeh made a skeptical face. “But won’t it hate me? I mean if I do that, won’t it blame me like a pillow would do?” The teen shakes his head. “Nope. It might for a little while, but before long it won’t even remember. They have to use so much mental effort that it slowly pushes out anything specific or distinct that they had as far as ideas and emotions. They become all instinct and immediate reaction.” Daddeh smiled. “Huh. Okay, let’s do that. What all do I need?”
The teenaged worker walked Daddeh through all sorts of things. The procedure, how to determine what depth he needed the pick to go for the desired effect, even instructions for how to proceed in the early days when the fluffy will be re-training on everything from basic motor skills to bowel control. Finally it came time to pick one. Braxton wasn’t quite following, he could understand that the dummeh wouldn’t be a babbeh, but Daddeh was picking out a fluffy that wasn’t even dummeh at all! This brown and grey fluffy was almost as big as Braxton, and was talking and everything! He said his name was Princeton, and Daddeh gave him a leash just like Braxton so they could walk back to the car!
Braxton was excited. He’d already been over the moon at the idea of being a not-quite-daddeh, but having another fluffy friend living at home all the time was going to be so much fun!
When Daddeh let them loose, Braxton quickly got to work. “Obah hewe? Dis teebee woom. Dis whewe watch teebee wif daddeh. An obah HEWE, dis am safewoom! Dis whewe gud Bwaxtum wibe! Yu wibe hewe tuu nao!” Princeton was overjoyed. “Hooway! Wittwe Pwinceton nebba hab safewoom befowe! Fankyu nyu fwend Bwaxton, an nyu daddeh tuu! Wub su muchies! Whewe wittabocks?” Braxton took him on a tour of the saferoom while daddeh left to go read paperwork.
The sun was low in the sky. Princeton had been here a few days and according to the reading he would be primed for the procedure now. But something was bothering Daddeh.
“Haf! Haf! Pwincetum su fasties! Nebba…haf…nebba gunna catch! Swow down! Baxtum…Bwaxum…Baxtim wan gib huggies!” Braxton was stumbling along clumsily after Princeton. Had been for days, it was their favorite game. Princeton continued to run around at a surprisingly graceful and quick pace. “Tee hee! Bwaxton wiww hab tu catch Pwinceton, uddawise Pwinceton keep awwwww huggies fo sewf!” Their mutual giggling betrayed the low emotional stakes, but it underlined something Daddeh had noticed.
“Hey Braxton, come here. Daddeh needs you for a second.”
Braxton lurched over, fairly worn out from running with his more limber compatriot. Daddeh picked up the panting fluffy who immediately curled in his arms and weakly hugged him. “Wub…wub bestes’ daddeh. Wub howe wife…” Daddeh carried him inside, leaving the surprisingly astute Princeton to chase butterflies in the yard. Unlike Braxton, he actually manages to catch some.
Daddeh set Braxton down on the kitchen table in a big plastic bin. “So today was the day I was gonna make Princeton your new dummy brother. Remember? We were gonna get a dummy fluffy for you to take care of?” Braxton nods excitedly, but his face turns sour. “Bu…but Pwincetum nu wan be dummeh, nu fink. Pwincetim wike wun wound an hab pway wike nowmaw. Mebbeh…nu haftu make Pwincetin dummeh? Mebbeh hab tuu gud fwuffies?” Daddeh patted his head. “That’s kind of what I was thinking, yeah. It just seems like Princeton is really good at being a flluffy! I mean he’s fast, he’s not clumsy, he speaks more clearly, he can say names better than you…”
Braxton was growing uneasy. That list started with normal stuff, but it’s like it turned into a comparison! Like daddeh was saying he preferred Princeton! Suddenly, the high walls of the clear bin Braxton was in seemed less benign and more scary. “Bu daddeh stiww wub Bwaxtum, wite?” Daddeh gave him another soft head pat. “Of course I do bud, I’ll always love you. I just think that maybe…maybe Princeton could take care of you instead.” Braxton was confused. “Bu…bu Bwaxtum nu nee hewp? Am big fwuffy can taek cawe ub sewf!” Daddeh picked up a slender shiny object. “Don’t worry bud, you’ll like it. You can just hang out all day.”
Braxton put the pieces together. Probably the first time he’s ever been clever. Seems like the last one, too. “NUUUUU! Nu wan be DUMMEH! Nu huwt! Nu huwt! Weebe awone!” Braxton started scrambling around, unable to get much traction in a box he was now SURE was sorry. Tumbling over himself, he was becoming slick with slobber and tears as he begged and pleaded. Daddeh was unmoved as he tried to grasp Braxton by his neck scruff. “Come on man, quit being a brat. I’m sorry this isn’t exactly what we planned on, but come on! Princeton is so good at running and playing! Look at him!” He finally got ahold of Braxton and moved his other hand to the top of his head, pivoting so he could see out the window where Princeton was running tight circles, and even juking to fake out the bugs so he could catch them. “He’s having so much fun, I can’t take that from him.”
Braxton strained. He tried to twist free but couldn’t, daddeh’s powerful hand was firmly clamped on his scalp. “But Bwaxtum wub fun! Nu wan be dummeh!” Daddeh lowered him back into the bin and readied his tool. “Don’t worry, Braxton.”
“In a minute, you won’t mind.”
The sun shone brightly on the yard where Princeton ran around chasing buggies while daddeh watched and drank tea. “Tee hee! Pwinceton wiww catch yu! Nu twy tu wun uh-way, buggie fwend!” He deftly darted and dashed around the yard, his dark brown fluff being lightly tarnished by the dirt. Daddeh walked over to him and tousled his pale gray mane. “That’s right buddy, you’re gonna catch them. But let’s go in and eat lunch first.” Princeton perked up, shining like a lantern. “Wunchtime is hewe? Hooway! Pwinceton suuu eksited fow nummies!” He ran swiftly through the yard towards the back porch, tongue waggling with excitement. As he approached the porch with a head of steam going, he almost tripped over Braxton. “Siwwy Bwaxton, tiem fow wunch! Daddeh make gud nummies fow aww gud fwuffies!”
Braxton slowly looked up. “Wha? Num…mies? Otay…” A dull look on his face, Braxton rose from the warm porch. Princeton gave him a hug and congratulated him. That was fine, he thought. Or felt. One of the two. Braxton walked through the door. Braxton saw daddeh. Braxton remembered lunch. Braxton walked to get lunch. Braxton was given lunch. Lunch was kibble. Braxton ate the Kibble.
“Baxum kib…kibbwe. Wub.”
A tear went down his cheek.
“Dadd…eh pomiss…”
Braxton swallowed, and the thought passed.
Inspired by these pieces by @Pastry_Knight .