“Huu huu… Metaw munstah, pwease nu mow scawey noise…”
Jeremy glanced at the pet carrier as he pulled up to the stoplight. He sighed and rubbed his temple.
Getting a fluffy pony wasn’t his idea.
Ever since he was released from prison, Jeremy had trouble adjusting to normal life. The doctors had all kinds of names for it. PTSD, post-conviction syndrome, institutional syndrome (he always laughed at that one, as being institutionalized was always seen as a joke among his fellow inmates). The truth was, he had trouble functioning in society after being incarcerated for 10 years. He wasn’t some caricature from a scared straight program. He WAS, however, somebody who had trouble dealing with social norms outside of prison.
So many common behaviors on the outside upset him. They seemed disrespectful. Insane. He had grown used to an environment where if you stepped beyond your bounds, said the wrong thing to the wrong person, or even about them behind their back, you’d get into a fight. Usually they weren’t too bad. A few fists here and there, maybe a lock in a sock. Nothing to fear for your life about unless you really fucked up. But enough to learn boundaries.
And now, upon his release, he entered the world of twitter and Karens. Everything seemed like too much. The smallest interactions were enough for him to turn his knuckles white. So he withdrew. For months he barely left the house. He’d go to his night job, he’d get groceries, and he’d go back home to read a book, maybe watch some TV. And that was fine for a time. But the few people still in his life saw the signs, and begged for him to get help.
“A fluffy pony? Really? Aren’t they noisy demanding shit machines? That sounds like the last thing I need in my life.” Jeremy stayed still in his chair as he looked at the diplomas on the walls again. I’ve been doing pretty well with doctors lately but looks like this guy is off his rocker…
“Oh it’s not that bad-- at least it doesn’t have to be anymore. Some of the newer brand-name fluffies are actually very well behaved and adaptable. I think getting one of these, one that you can teach to behave as you see fit, will help you immensely. Though, I will admit they still produce… erm, a lot of waste. Teach it to use the litterbox, treat it well, and you’ll be fine. BUT, worst case, if you do end up snapping it’s better that you do it with a fluffy than another store clerk.”
“Look, I never laid my hands on him. If I did, the security cameras would have caught it and I wouldn’t be sitting here would I? It’s not my fault if the kid broke out into tears after a few words. He should learn to do his damn job right.”
The doctor tilted his nose down to look over his glasses. “Just try getting a fluffy pony. I’ll see you 2 weeks…” The doctor looked back at his phone, slid his thumb a few times. “Ah, the 25th. Alright?”
“Yeah, doc. Okay.” Jeremy sighed. What the hell, worst case I waste $15 on a punching bag. Still cheaper than a full cigarette. His thought process paused for a second. Right, outside now. Gotta stop thinking in prison terms. I could use a smoke though.
The carrier door popped open, eliciting a muffled shriek from the fluffy within. The mare, a brown earthie with a sky blue mane, looked nervously out the opening but didn’t move. Her anus was still clenched tightly. Her not-mummah taught her how to not make bad poopies when she was scared. She wagged her tail a couple of times, remembering that this made her a good fluffy.
“You can come out now. Fifi?” Jeremy chuckled again. He couldn’t resist naming the fluffy that when he saw her. Her coat and mane reminded him too much of a common prison item of the same name, usually made out of a towel and nitrile glove.
“Is safe? Nu mow scawey noisies?”
“Yeah, just get out already.”
“…otay…” The fluffy hesitated for only a split second more. Slowly, but steadily, she walked out of the carrier into the empty room. She looked around a couple of times before letting out a single “Huu”
“What’s your problem? You’re safe, I swear. No more loud noises.”
“Nu… nu toysies? Is sowwy woom?”
“Wha–” Jeremy remembered the hard sell the fluffy store tried to give him on all the accessories. “Ohh, right. No the stuff they had where I bought you was expensive as shit.” Fifi gasped in response to the foul language. “I’ll get you some toys tomorrow.”
The fluffy immediately perked up, forgetting everything that had upset her over the last few hours. “Yay, toysies!”
“For now, you’ve got a pillow and a blanket, here…” Jeremy pulled the items from behind the carrier, got down and rolled the blanket into a C shape and then placed it on the pillow, making a fluffy sized loveseat.
Fifi gasped. “Ooh! Bestest sweepie place! Thank yu daddeh!”
“One last thing. I don’t have a real litterbox yet, so I made one for you to use for now.” Jeremy picked up a cardboard box lined with a garbage bag and filled with torn newspaper. “This is your litterbox for tonight. Use this when you need to take a squat, ok?”
Fifi tilter her head. “Take skawt?”
“Y’know, shit? Piss?”
Fifi gasped again, hunkered down and covered her ears with her hooves. “Huu, bad wowds…”
“What?” Jeremy paused for a second before remembering how childlike fluffies were designed to be. “No, its fine. Bad words are fine”
“Bad wowds… nu am bad?”
“Thats right.”
“It am otay to say bad words?”
“YES. That’s what I just said, it’s ok to swear.” Is there something wrong with this thing? Jeremy thought.
Fifi blinked rapidly for a couple of seconds. “Otay daddeh, Fifi twust yu!”
Yeah there’s gotta be a defect in it or something “Just use this when you need to shit. I’ll get you a real litterbox tomorrow.”
“Fifi undewstan, Fifi wiww p-- Fifi wiww shi in not-wittabawks”
Jeremy paused for a second then grinned. “Good girl.” The fluffy’s tail wagged endlessly.
Jeremy locked his front door behind him and set a couple of plastic bags and a cardboard box on the ground. Before he had a chance to shout, he heard the dull thuds of leathery hooves trot around the corner.
“Daddeh! Daddeh am home! Su happies!”
“Hey girl. Were you good while I was gone?”
“Yus! Fifi make gud shi in not-wittabawks!”
Jeremy chuckled at the term ‘good shit’. “That’s great. Guess what I got you?”
Fifi gasped very loudly “Toysies??” Jeremy became worried that the fluffy was going to have a seizure. She kept jumping off of her front hooves wildly, flailing her tail about.
“Jesus, whoah, whoah. Calm down.” The fluffy sat down on her haunches but was still visibly vibrating and breathing heavily. “Yes I got you some toys.” The fluffy jumped up again, but quickly sat back down and continued gyrating in place. “Lets go to your room and I’ll give them to you.”
As he picked up the bags and box, the fluffy started trotting around his legs. He almost stepped on her a couple of times. “Fifi! Stop that, walk behind me”
The fluffy’s ears drooped for a second then perk up and she tilter her head. “Gud fwuffies wawk behind daddehs?”
“Yeah, actually. That’s right.” The fluffy’s eyes fluttered for a second, then it trotted behind him and started running in sloppy figure 8s. Ehh, close enough.
Jeremy poured litter from the cardboard box into the new litterbox he finished setting up. Across the room, Fifi was playing with the superball he had bought her. Everything he had found was a fraction of the price at Wallmart than it was at the store where he bought the fluffy. Other than the ball, he had bought some letter blocks, an etch-a-sketch designed for fluffies, a second blanket and 1 more item still hidden in the bag. He figured it was best to introduce it at bedtime. Jeremy looked at his watch. Hmm, Conan’s gonna be on in a bit
“Hey Fifi.” The fluffy wobbled off of it’s haunches onto all fours, sending the ball rolling across the room past Jeremy. “I’ve got 1 more toy for you.” She trotted over to him looking around, but not seeing it. He bent down, and pulled a plastic box out of the bag.
He tried opening it with his hands, but the plastic was too solid. “Crap… I’ll be right back. Wait here.”
Fifi opened her mouth, but then shut it and sat down in quiet protest. She really wanted the toy, but she wanted to be a good fluffy more.
Jeremy took the box into the kitchen and pulled a razor out from his tool/junk drawer. even with a fresh razor it was difficult to open the packaging. Half way to getting the package open he paused and looked at the trademark on the artwork in the box. “Huh… isn’t that the same company that developed fluffies?” He shrugged and continued opening the package. “Why. The fuck. Are these things so hard to open?” The package was nearly open far enough to get the toy out when the razor slipped.
After seeing the prices Jeremy had already decided not to buy anything more than the fluffy at that store. Still, he listened. If he was going to give this fluffy thing a try, he might as well do it right. Y’know, without spending 5 times as much on the accessories as the fluffy itself. Most of it was pretty simple. Bed, litterbox. He could build those or get them cheap elsewhere. A ball? Literally the easiest toy to find. Not going to spend $5 on a multi colored handball. The lecture on ‘stuffy friends’ caught his attention though. He was already buying a fluffy pony, so the idea of buying a doll didn’t seem great to him. Didn’t need people talking about him. But the saleslady did convince him that it was necessary.
“Oh you really must get her one! The poor things get so lonely at night, and since you don’t have another fluffy she’ll absolutely need one. Without it, fluffy she just might die of loneliness! Okay, not really, but it’d be so cruel. It’s very bad for their well being, being alone for hours at a time.”
Jeremy really was getting tired of these sales pitches. He just wanted to pay for the fluffy and walk out the door already. “Well I work nights. So when I’m at work she’ll be sleeping, and when I need to sleep she can just jump in bed with me.”
“Absolutely not! Don’t let the fluffy sleep in the bed with you. It never ends well. Even if they’re house trained, they’re still very fragile. Between when you’re at work and you’re asleep, there’s really no way around it; unless you want your fluffy to be at risk for depression and anxiety, she’ll need a stuffy friend.”
“Hmm. Okay, I believe you. I’m not buying any toys though. So can we just finish up already?”
*I’ll figure out a hug doll substitute when I hit up Walmart. Ain’t no way I’m paying these bullshit prices. *
Jeremy pulled his hand out from behind his back. “It’s a little friend to keep you company at night!” In his hand was a Stretch Armstrong doll. Honestly, this thing has to be better than a cotton filled rag. However, there was a problem that Fifi noticed almost immediately.
gasp “Nyu stuffy fwiend! … NUU! Stuffy fwiend have wowstest owwies!” Right across the Stretch Armstrong’s chest was a 3 inch razor cut. While the inside was mostly clear, slightly yellow, the fluffy still recognized it as an injury. She immediately put her hooves up and pointed them at the doll* “Gif fwiend! Fifi gif fwiend huggies, make aww bettah!”
"Here you go, girl. Now don’t worry, I’ll buy some liquid rubber and make him all better tomorrow morning. His name is Stretch Armstrong.
“Fifi wuv new fwiend. Wuv Swetch Awswon!”
Ok. Now it’s time for you to go to sleep."
“Aweady?” Some of the joy had drained from the fluffy, but she still clutched her new toy tightly and wagged her tail.
“Yes. This is your bedtime. Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He picked the fluffy up, still clutching the toy, and placed her on the pillow. Then he walked to the door and turned off one of the overhead lights, dimming the room significantly. Fifi had curled up tightly around the Stretch Armstrong doll, squeezing contently.
Jeremy turned the TV off, took his headphones off and put them nearly on the middle seat of the sofa. He then cracked the door to Fifi’s room open to check on her. She was breathing slowly, fast asleep. He closed the door, grabbed his keys and phone, and headed off to work.
In the middle of the night, Fifi woke up with a pressure growing in her lower regions. She needed to go to the bathroom, bad. She clenched as tight as she could, and tried to get up, but noticed something was wrong. Her stuffy friend was hugging her too tight!
“Nuuu… Pwease swetchie fwiend, wet fwuffy go! Need to make gud shi and piss!”
As she struggled, she felt her fluff being pulled on. She yelped out in pain, and forgot to clench for a second.
The doll had slowly leaked it’s corn-syrup filling out of the cut on it’s chest, the process rapidly sped up by the pressure from the fluffy’s hug. Her frontside, covered in a viscous sticky substance, her rump covered in a fresh ejection of shit, and her pillow soaked with a combination of the 2 and a steady stream of urine, Fifi began to freak the fuck out.
“NUUUU! BAD SWETCHIE FWIEND! Nu wan make bad shi… WHY? WET FWUFFY GO!”
As she struggled, a bit more of the doll’s filling oozed out. After a while, she managed to free her body from the doll and the bed, but now her hoof was stuck where the 2 met. While more shit and piss had leaked out, she managed to clench up again before it all came out. It hurt very much, and the whole ordeal had been very stressful on her.
Exhausted after having just freed most of her body, and still struggling with her trapped hoof, Fifi collapsed on the ground in front of her bed trying to catch her breath. She then felt a terrifyingly familiar sensation. The ground was pulling on her chest fluff. The corn syrup coating her chest had effectively glued her to the floor. In a new wave of panic, she voided herself again. This made her situation worse, as when she tried to stand up now her back hooves slid around on the floor, now smeared in her excrement.
In a desperate attempt to get more traction, Fifi almost correctly decided to free her hoof from the pillow/blanket/Stretch Armstrong™ amalgam. After flailing the limb around uselessly, she tried to push it off of her hoof with her snout.
It was almost 9am when Jeremy got home. He went straight to the kitchen, placed a shopping bag on the counter and opened a cabinet. After getting a cereal bowl, he pulled a can out of the bag and pulled the lid off of the can. Spagetti. He totally forgot to buy this when he was buying the supplies yesterday. He always heard that fluffies love the stuff, but when he remembered it at work he couldn’t stop thinking about how Fifi would react when she got her first bowl of it. He definitely wanted to see it before going to sleep.
All in all, he thought, this fluffy thing isn’t turning out so bad. She’s much more behaved than I thought, and I can be myself around her. This just might work out.
As he reached for the door to the fluffy’s room, he smelled the odor of fluffy crap. He’d have to talk to her about covering her shit up after she used the litterbox. Fluffies can do that, right?
After opening the door, Jeremy noticed two things. A spotless litterbox in one corner, and Fifi. Her pillow was slightly closer to the litterbox. And covered in shit and piss. And it was on top of her head. Dried crusted shit was smeared all around her, and she was splayed out on the ground.
“Fifi! What the hell!” No response. “Fifi?” He tried to nudge her with his shoe, only to find she was glued to the floor. He put the cereal bowl filled with spagetti down on the ground, leaned over her and saw the smiling face of Stretch Armstrong poking out from between her head and the pillow.
“Ahhhh shit. Those things can leak? Nothing came out when I squeezed it. Shit.” He nudged her a few more times, the last almost being a kick. “Goddamnit.”
Jeremy finished washing the paint scraper off in the sink. The room was finally clean, his tools clean; hopefully the smell will clear out soon. Fifis corpse laid in a garbage bag, still attached to the makeshift bed, and her stuffy friend, Stretch Armstrong. His smiling face’s silhouette still visible through the trash bag.
“And things were going so well.” Jeremy spoke to himself out loud. “I dunno, maybe I’ll try again.”
===
This is my first story post. I feel like I was all over the road with the fluffspeak, but meh. I just noticed the event earlier today, and saw the deadline so figured I might as well make something. Hope I tagged it right.
