Small Fluffy, Big City [Chapter 2] (Britfluff)

Your name is Rose, and you breed fluffies for a living.

Most people have different reasons for doing this. Some do it for profit, others for the satisfaction of watching them grow. You? You do it because you kind of find fluffies cute. You have managed to actually make a profit from this, though most of it is from the fact you’ve been lucky in the genetic lottery when it came to the foals. In your first brood, you got a rainbow mane. In your second, you got an alicorn. In your third? An authentic Fluffypie. Of course, you kept these as high grade breeding stock, which only led to even better foals. Hell, your best breeding mare is a Fluffypie called Milkshake. And as good as a breeding mare can be, they can sometimes have god-awful foals.

Cue the little blue shit.

This foal has been nothing but trouble. As a newborn, he was constantly chirping in distress if he wasn’t touching his mother. Then, the second he could walk, he’d hit his siblings if they were using toys he wanted to play with. That, and he started to show symptoms of early smarty syndrome. You decided to fix this (due to his good colours) in a way that is fun for you. You made a small city, big enough for a weening foal to live in, and left it there. You’d use puppets to play the people who live in the city, and is also made to be as depressing as possible, taking inspiration from pre-incident Cleveland. You dropped it off in there, and so far it has been police brutality’d and fined by a cop, charged all of it’s remaining money for a apartment, and got scared from watching a ‘horror movie’ at night when it was meant to be asleep.

You actually wonder how adult smarty fluffies would cope this. You might actually set that up if you ever get the money.

It’s 9am and you’ve done all of your morning responsibilities; feeding the fluffies, cleaning the poop, giving affection to the mothers and disposing of dead foals. Now all you have to do is tune in to the camera feed you set up for the little shit. It currently shows it fast asleep on it’s little bed, curled up, just before…


“Nnmmm… shuddup stoopid beepie thingie, fwuffy twying to sweep.”

You kinda relate to it on a spiritual level.

“Fwuffy say shuddup!”
It kicks at the alarm, before realizing is out of reach. The determined little turd nugget then stands up and grumbles, bopping the alarm with a front hoof before going to bed.

Oh, shit, good thing you planned for this. Que the domestic issues!

Immediately, from the room above, muffled arguments about “That side hoe Shaquisha!” radiating from above loudly enough to enduce the foal to let out a long, theatrical groan. It then got up, mumbling something before walking out of the door and towards the litterbox and taking a shit. The shit it made out of fear still sat on the carpet, as it plopped down on the pillow and turned on Fluff TV. You know what? Time to break out the cow puppet.

You’re a big fluffy, and you’re gonna watch all the teevee you want! That stupid mousie friend says you have to get a job, but why? You have no reason to! That dummy thinks his friends will be able to hurt you! Don’t they know you can give them sorry poopies and they’ll run off?

Currently, you’re watching this show on FluffTV called Babies!, where these foals who are DEFINITELY smaller than you are despite the fact that they look a bit like you. Well, you’re trying to, but some stupid dummy keeps knocking on your door! You eventually get tired of it, and kick the thing open.

“Hi! My name is Tammy, and I-”
“Wow, rude! I just wanted to come give you a house warming gift.”

It’s voice is kind of deep, like one of those things dummy human mummah called a ‘valley girl accent’. Speaking of which, it does sound like her… No, no. It’s another a coincidence. AND DID IT JUST SAY GIFT?

“Giftiw? Fwuffie wub giftie!”
“Well, I already bought it so I might as well give it to you. No need to be rude though, ugh.”
“Wut giftie?”
“It’s a tongue guard! It’ll let you clean anything gross on the floor without having to taste it or anything.”
“Nu sketties ow toysies?”
“Uh, no.”

How dare she give you something useless! You snatch the gift from her hands, before slamming the door closed, tossing it next to the bowl and going to sit and watch teebee for the rest of the day. It’s now showing Playtime!, where your favourite fluffy star is making an appearance! That silly monster thought she blew her up the other day, but little does she know that he’s actually alive and on the teevee! Well, he’s missing his poopie mane, but that’s probably nothing! The entire day goes buy as you watch them laugh and play, until…



You let out a little scardie poopies, backing up against your nest as you see the door be barged open. You see what appears to be four barkie monsters with sorry sticks in their hands and wheels for legs roll in, raising their sticks!

“Well, well, well. Me and the boys heard that someone was giving our boss some trouble, not getting their lazy ass up to get a job, huh?”
“P-pwease, fwuffy am sowwiest fwuffy! Nu huwties pwease!”
“Well, we need to teach you a lesson somehow! Tell you what, whoever can hit the runt the most gets a beer on me!”

And then, they swung their sticks down. They peppered you with bruises as if you were a fine, gourmet pile of sketties and their sorry sticks were seasoning, each impact leaving a mark which causes you to sob. It wouldn’t normally be that bad, but these things have sharp bits to their sorry sticks, leaving little cuts which sting painfully. The entire time, you are desperately screeching, begging for your mother to come you, only making the barkie monsters laugh harder and harder. You could swear they broke your leggies if it werent that you could still move them. Painfully, you stand up, huuing gently after they had finished. Immediately the biggest one shoves you against the door, looking down at you.

“The job center’s still open. You have 30 minutes to get there, or else you’ll be out on your ass. Got it?”
“Wes! Bab- Fwuffy wiww! Nu mowe huwties pweaaase!”

They nod, leaving with the door open behind them. You take that as an opportunity to go out and get a job, as much as you don’t want to. The job office was the blue building, right?

“So, what qualifications do you have?”

Currently, you’ve gotten out your parrot puppet for the job office worker, and you’re now begrudgingly trying to have an actual fucking meeting with this idiot.

“What kwuhwificashuns?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Previous jobs. Your degrees. Stuff like that?”
“Fwuffy am fwuffy?”
“I’ll put that down as ‘none’, then. Let’s try something else, what are any talents you have?”
“Fwuffy can dancie?”
“That’s a no-go too. This isn’t lookin good for you, to be frank. There’s only one job I can find.”
“Wha dat?”
“A job at the skettie factory.”

The little shit takes in a deep gasp, a idiotic grin encompassing it’s face.

“Don’t get excited. You’ll be a sketty scent tester. The smell of some of the sketties made will be wafted towards you, and you have to determine if it smells tasty or not. If it does, you press the green button. If it doesn’t, you press the red one. If you mess up, you’re fired. Foleville’s one credible industry is the spaghetti business, and they can’t afford a single mistake.”

Throughout the explanation, the little turd’s smile was slowly faltering, now a complete look of sheer despair. You’d feel bad if it didn’t actively attempt to murder its siblings for trying to hug their mother.

“Buh fwuffy nu want stoopi no tastie jobbie! Wan bettah!”
“You don’t know basic mathematics and are illiterate. The other job you could take is one where stallions mount and fu-”
“That’s what I thought. Now, it begins tonight, actually, so I’d get on your way. Unless you wanna be late on your first day, that is.”

Sniff sniff.

Smells pretty enough. You press the green button, as the smell disappears and you hear a whoosh sound.

You’re a blue fluffy, and this is the worst point of your life! You were given a very, very sorry sticking by some barkie monsters, and when you got a job like they told you to all they could give you was this. Oh, what you would give for just one taste of these delicious, amazing, scrumptious sketties. With it’s soft, long pasta, rich, juicy mincemeat, flakey, melt-in-the-mouth cheese and sweet, tantalizing sauce! You’d give an eye for it! Well, not literally, but still! It’s hell to not be able to taste every fluffy’s desire-


What the FLUFF is that rancid smell!

Sniff Snif- HURK!

Bad batch! Bad batch! What button was red again? Desperately, you try to remember your colours as hard as you can. You only know blue because it’s the colour of your fluff, but red? Yellow? Green? Pink? The hell are those? You’re not even sure if this elusive ‘magenta’ even exists! Each second you try to remember, the smell gets stronger, the smell causing you to gag more and more. It smells exactly like your dummie brother, after your dummie human mummah found him, after you hid him in the litterbox for a week! You can BARELY take it!

Forget it! You’ll have to guess!

You press what you think is the red button, before you hear the sound of fire whooshing. Oh, thank god. Now the smell should be- oH SWEET FUCKING SAN FRANCISCO WHAT ON SKYDADDEH’S GREEN EARTH IS THAT SMELL?! Could it be the poopie skettie being burned away? You’re trembling at the smell, covering your sensitive snout as you’re trying to escape the sheer rancidity of the stench emanating from the grate. Make it stop! Make it stoooop!

Oh, nice. It stopped. Well, time for the next one. Yup, it smells pretty. Oh, what you would give for just one taste blah blah blah…

Alright, just got to select that file… and bingo!

You have just set up Foleville’s security cameras to, a site made to upload videos of Fluffy abuse. Over the last ten years it rose from obscurity to being up there with Dailymotion when it came to it’s web traffic, all because Fluffy abuse is against the Youtube guidelines now. What this means is people will be able to watch your project 24/7, and even participate in it. You’ve set up your speakers to the laptop you’re using so people can use a simple command to have a sound effect relevant to the area go off, well, if they donate that is. not only that, but once a day you have people donate as much as they can, with the highest bidder being able to request something (non-lethal) to happen to the little shit. You even have a mediashare thing activated for the fucker’s TV, though of course you will be moderating everything put in and excluding anything too bad for the foal.

It also certainly helps that you have milestones set up. When the donation count reaches $10, you’ll have the food run out for a day. When it reaches $25, they’ll get mugged. When it reaches $50, you’ll give away one free request. However, when it reaches $100, you’ll put in another fluffy. Of course, you expect the fluffy to be too old by then, but hey! This place is big enough to take in foals of any sizes, and you can just replace it with another brat. Maybe though, for a far off distant goal you’ll make an adult fluffy Foleville? That’s not any time soon though, that’s far in the future and unlikely to happen.

You start the stream, OBS having everything ready in real time, and you decide to leave it running as you go about your responsibilities for the night. First, you clean up all the shit in the litterboxes and dispose of any dead runts. Then, you do an alicorn run, putting all two alicorns you can find with the surrogate you made, simultaneously checking on the new mothers and their foals. You finally take pictures of the ones with manes, before going back to check how the stream is running.

Huh, neat. 100 viewers already. You guess that this is due to the fact this has been done before once, and even then it only lasted until the guy accidentally had a puppet fuck the foal to death. Idiot should have known they can’t take a full middle finger. Anyway, now that it’s back in the form of a spiritual successor, people are more than happy to go check it out and not necessarily rush back to it. You are new, after all.

Oh? What’s this? The clock has clicked onto midnight (You breed them in the same land as your home, so working overtime is more of a choice than a necessity), and now it’s time for a request bid. Immediately, you see people are betting higher and higher numbers, up to $11, which makes you thankful these don’t count towards the milestones. Eventually, one guy named ‘fughoxingbag’ wins with a bet of $16, with a simple request.

Fughoxingbag: Do what the last guy who tried this did, but this time try not to kill it :slight_smile:

Well, well.

Rose_wine: More than happy to oblige!


This is a great story so far, keep up the good work!!


Yeees, have real life fuck over the little shit


didn’t expect that, but looks very good so far, it would be interesting to see something like that sistem, but in the comments, ( like the most liked comment will get featured in the next post )


Been contemplating that, actually. I just thought it would be a bit rash/egotistical for me to do


why rash/egotistical?

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The worst torture of all. Adulting.


Probably because for that I’d be assuming enough people would read it in the first place to do that.

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One request for the future. Cabbages


What’s a Fluffypie?

A fluffy with the exact same colour scheme and breed as pinkie pie.