heads up, this ones long! i couldnt find a good place to seperate it up more, sorry. thankfully i break everything into mini chapters with dividers!
For most of Mitch’s life, he had been neutral twoards Fluffys. The baby ones could be cute, but they were largely just kind of annoying. He’d throw out some scraps to the ferals, but that was so they didn’t tear up the farm and earn him a whooping. Yeah, he gave them extra if they said thank you, but that was so it was the nice ones came back! You get the point. Fluffys always just existed in his life.
It wasn’t until after his military service that he ever considered getting one. His psychiatrist insisted a PTSD support dog would be amazing for him, and, well, he believed her, except he was insanely allergic to dogs. Can’t even go in Petsmart levels. They’re adorable, but no go. And he doesn’t have “therapy mini horse” kind of money. When she mentioned service Fluffys, he thought it was a joke. But desperate men do desperate things.
And, well, fuck. Fluffenstein changed his damn life. Yes, he let his 4 year old Halloween obsessed niece name him. Don’t judge. Turns out that having to take care of what was essentially an eternally positive toddler with sensitivity training forced him to take care of himself, too… There’s something about a Fluffy’s little brain that can talk just about anything into being a good thing; and a friend to have by during episodes never hurts. Fluffenstein eventually passed peacefully of old age, but his legacy lives on in Mitch’s buisness; Stein’s Service Fluffs, an organization dedicated to training up service and therapy Fluffys, just like his wonderful little man.
But today, he wasn’t picking up a trainee for that. He was picking up someone for his side project: Smarty Reform. Turns out that a little military-style tough love can be exactly what those little bastards need! And he heard that todays recruit is a particularly nasty little horse-pig-rabbit
-dog… thing.
He opened the door to the shelter, the expected scent of piss and Yankee Candles hitting his nose. A shelter like this can only do so much, and, well, he’s actually thankful its piss smell and not shit smell.
“Hey, man.” Mitch greeted the large, middle aged man behind the front desk. “I’m here for. Uh.” Snort. “…Big Red Bastard.” Mitch giggles a bit. He can not believe they actually named the thing that.
“…Holy shit. We didn’t think you’d actually show. Hold on.”
The man picked up the desk phone, squabbling with whoever was on the line for a few before hanging up. “Director’ll be here shortly.” He then turned back to his work, which on closer inspection, was just a college football game in a very small window. Classy.
Fortunately, the director was out quite shortly. “My apologies, sir. I was in the middle of some paperwork for another client.”
Damn. Are they really so short staffed that the Directors doing adoptions? “It’s alright, ma’am. I don’t mind waiting. Name’s Mitchell, but just call me Mitch.”
“Shauna Woodsman, Director of the Washington Country Fluffy Shelter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
They shake hands, making their way to the back of the shelter. Mitch had been in county shelters before, but not this one, which was about an hour away from where he lived.
Shauna tucked a braid behind her ear, doing a little “shhhh” motion at the Fluffys blabbering at them as rhey walked past. “I’m gonna be honest, Mitch, this is one of the worst BSS cases I’ve seen. We had the whole herd brought in, and according to them, he was the only child of the last Smarty, and was basically treated like a prince.”
“Yep, that’ll do it.” He sighs. If only Fluffys could understand psychology. “I’m assumin’ the rest of the herds gone already?”
“Yep. Two of them had to be put down due to advanced disease, sadly. The rest were adopted or transferred to other shelters. This guy… He’s… Well. How do I put this…”
“You don’t have to he professional around me, ma’am.”
Exhale. “He’s a total piece of shit. I’ve been buying him Spaghetti O’s, because he will literally starve himself to death if not given spaghetti when he demands it.”
“I respect your dedication, Miss Woodsman.”
“Oh, please. Just Shauna is fine.”
“Well, either way. Most places would have just let him starve himself.”
Shauna sighs, rubbing her temples. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Mitch. I considered it. But I just- I can’t. I just want to make sure you’re sure about this one. Listen. I’ve loved Fluffy’s since I was a little girl. I kicked a guy in the nuts for hitting a feral in high school and got suspended. I can’t even stand Red. The only reason he’s got a caretaker is that Connors too high most of the time to be bothered by him. His only redeemable trait is that he wont hurt babies.”
The Director turns twoards a steel door. “This is normally where we quarantine any ill looking ferals, but he’s such a dick to the other Fluffys that we basically had to put him in solitary.”
“Jesus.”
“After dealing with this, I think that guy abandoned me a long time ago. You’re certain about taking him, Mitch?”
“Completely positive, Shauna. If I can handle Iraq, I can handle an asshole Fluffy.”
“And if you can’t redeem him?”
“I’m not afraid to do what needs to be done. But I haven’t had a failure yet. I’d like to at least give the little fucker a second chance.”
“You’re a better man than me, Mitch.” She opens the door, which is pretty much immediately greeted with the shouts of Big Red Bastard.
“DUMMEH HUGHMAN! WET SMAWTY OUT OF SOWWY BOX NAO!”
“Shut the fuck up, Red. That’s not even the sorry box, it’s a carrier.”
Mitch glanced at the Fluffy carrier in his backseat. Big Red Bastard, who was now just Big Red, was throwing an absolute fit in his car carrier. His personal Fluffy, Eleanor, sat in her own carrier on the seat next to him. Passenger princess!
She blinked her big grey eyes up at him. “Daddeh? Why oder Fwuffy so scawed of cawwiew?”
“SMAWTY IS NOT SCAWDEY BABBEH!!! AM NOT SCAWED!!!”
“Onwy scawedy Fwuffys yeww in da cawwiew. Bwave Stawions don hab anyting to say.”
And just like that, he stopped. Nothing like the judgement of a pretty mare to stop you in your tracks. Mitch gave Eleanor a look that said “I can not believe that worked.”, which she acknowledged with a cheeky grin. Eleanor wasn’t necessarily the smartest Fluffy he had met, but by God, she had her moments.
It was good that Mitch invested so heavily in sound proofing. While he sat on a bit of land, he did have neighbors, and they did not want to hear what this Smarty was saying, nor did any of the other Fluffys in the building. He feels a tug at his pants, and looks down to see his Nurse Mare, Sunday.
“Mistah Mich, why dat Fwuffy go in sowwy woom?”
The sorry room was the closest thing to solitary confinement the facility had. An old converted closet for Fluffys that, for whatever reason, needed to be isolated.
“Well, Sunday, he tried to bite my fucking nose off.”
Sunday gasps. “Bu-but 'ou onwy twyin to hewp Fwuffy! Nu find homsies if num evewyone!” Sunday was a very empathetic mare. He had gotten her for the therapy Fluffy program, but she developed quite the case of baby obsession… and it seems her breeder never informed her that she was spayed. Thankfully, her caring temprement was perfect for raising foster babies. She truly loved all her babbehs, and while she still wished she could have her own, seeing babbehs from such bad situations grow strong filled that hole in her heart.
“I know, Sunday… he’s going to be a real piece of work.”
“Sundeh hewp Mistah wit scawy Fwuffy?”
There was no fosters right now, and Sunday was feeling a bit useless. If she were a smarter Fluffy, she would be happy there was no orphaned or abused babies in need of her around right now, but she was a… simple pegasus.
“Maybe once he calms down a bit… he’s gonna be human contact only until he gets his shit together.” He leans down, giving Sunday a firm pat on the rump. “We might be getting a batch of yearlings in for service Fluffy training soon, though. Would you like to help with the training?”
“YAY! Sundeh WUB hewp twainin!” She gleefully trotted off, likely to tell her owner about this exciting news. Unfortunately for her, her owner walked in not but a minute later.
“Uncle Mitch, you seen Sunday?”
“Ah. You just missed her.”
“Damnit.” Tanya was Mitch’s niece, as well as one of his skilled Fluffy trainers. She was also Sunday’s owner. “She’s been getting antsy with no babies around.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I haven’t found any ferals recently, and none of the shelters have called. You reminded her that thats not our main thing, right?”
“You’re saying that like she cares about our buisness practices.”
“I’m sorry, kid, but if you haven’t heard, I’ve got bigger issues now.”
Everyone had heard. Even with the soundproofing, there was faint Smarty screams throughout the entire building.
“I… I don’t know why you want to try so hard with this one, Unc.”
“It’s the principal, at this point.” Christ. One day, and this fucker was already making enemies.
Red sat in the corner of the closet, throat sore from the amount of screaming he just did. He didn’t get it. Why was nobody coming for him? He was the smartest Fluffy around! And the strongest and most handsome. They should be THANKFUL he’s graced everyone with his presence, but first these dummeh humans took his herd, and now hes stuck in this shithole!
…Wait. Shit! Red has an idea. If he makes sorry poopies in here, that dummeh will be FORCED to let him out! Another genius idea from the smartest Fluffy alive.
“HHHHNNN… Smawty make WOST SOWWY POOPIES EVAH-”
Sniff sniff. “Uh, yeah. Speaking of your principal…”
“Oh, fucks sake. He just shit everywhere, didn’t he.”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to. Leaving it to you, Unc.”
Mitch sighs, preparing his Boot Camp Voice as he throws open the door.
“RECRUIT! WHAT’S GOING ON IN HERE!”
“Smawty make BIGGEST sowwy poopies! Dummeh hughman wet Smawty out sowwy woom NOW!”
“Negative, recruit. I already told you this is your quarters for the night. And as punishment, your toy is being taken.”
Wait, what? Red is astonished! He’s just gonna leave him? IN THE POOP ROOM? AND HES TAKING HIS STUFFY?
“NUUUUUUUUU!!! DUMMEH HUGHMAN NU WEAVE SMAWTY IN POOPEH WOOM!!! NU SMEWW PWETTIES!!! GIB SOWWY HOOFI-”
Red is firmly nudged away with Mitch’s foot. “…Get some sleep, recruit. 5 am, bright and early tomorrow.”
And the door slams shut.
“N-NUUUU! NUUU WEAVE SMAWTY!!! SMAWTY NU SMEWW PWETTY!!! NU… nu… nu weave…”